Save Me - Lisa Scottoline [69]
I need a drink.
She got up, went to the side cabinet, and reached into the wine rack, sliding out the first bottle she touched, then closing the door. The label read LOUIS JADOT, which would do just fine. She went into the drawer for the corkscrew, peeled the metal wrapping off, and did the honors with difficulty because of her bandaged hand. She poured herself a glass of merlot, and still standing at the counter, drained the glass like she used to, in the bad old days. It tasted more bitter than she remembered, but it could have been her state of mind.
“Don’t tell anyone,” she said, when Princess Google looked up.
She grabbed the bottle by the neck and set it on the table, then took the glass over to the laptop and sat down. She poured another glass, drank it, and her gaze fell on the laptop through the glass, an alcoholic wash of the newspaper’s front page. HERO MOM? read the sidebar, and underneath that, New Viewer Videos!
She set down the glass, palmed the mouse, and muted the volume on the laptop. She clicked on the link for the videos, and it brought her to a list in bright blue, each one titled: School Fire, Cafeteria Fire in Local School, First Responders Arrive, Ambulance Leaves with Amanda Gigot, and so on, the list reading like a chronological description of her nightmare. Luckily, she was starting not to feel anything.
She poured another glass, drank it, and clicked one of the links, of the kids running from the school and onto the playground. She watched them come, numbing to their stricken faces, racing into the camera. The video ended, and the arrow froze, and she clicked and watched it again and again, until she felt absolutely nothing. She clicked on another video, titled Copter Shots, and watched the roof of the cafeteria smolder, then flare into flames. She slid the bar back and forth, forward and back, moving time backward and forward, so the past became the present, then they traded places and the present came before the past, her life a palindrome.
Rose came out of her reverie, realizing the cell phone had been ringing. The screen read LEO, so she reached for it and answered, “Hello?”
“Babe, is that you? You sound funny.”
“I was sleeping. I went to bed early.”
“Sorry. You wanna go back to sleep? How are you with this D.A. meeting?”
“Fine, but I need to go back to sleep.”
“Sure, okay. Oliver’s a great lawyer, so don’t worry. Just listen to what he tells you when you meet with the D.A. Don’t let them rattle you. If you wake up, call me, no matter how late. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” Rose hung up, set the phone down, and reached for the bottle.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Rose sipped her coffee, but it couldn’t cure her cotton mouth from last night. They were in a larger conference room than yesterday, containing a long walnut table that held only a stack of fresh legal pads. The windows showed off a view of the woods behind the corporate center, with picturesque autumn foliage, a sharply blue sky, and a cool sun.
Rose stayed seated with John in her lap, while Oliver introduced himself to the two prosecutors. She had on a navy dress with a matching sweater, light makeup, and her hair in a half-ponytail, and John was in a white polo shirt and his Mom jeans, sucking his pacifier and clutching his Fisher-Price car keys. Long ago, she had posed almost the same way, for the Hanna Andersson catalog.
“Gentlemen, be my guest.” Oliver gestured at the walnut credenza against the wall, which held two canisters of coffee, fresh bagels, and cream cheese, the delicious smells scenting the air. “Get yourself some coffee, and we have the best bagels of any law firm in the county.”
“Thanks, but no,” Howard said, evidently for both of them. He rolled out a chair for Rick, then unbuttoned his khaki jacket before he sat down, with a warm grin for