The Sisterhood - Michael Palmer [73]
David Could no longer stand the tension inside him and in her nervous chatter. “Lauren,” he said. “There’s more, isn’t there? I mean it’s not just the senator. Something else is eating at you. Please talk to me. I’m … I’m very uncomfortable with the feeling in this room right now. There’s a lot I have to tell you, but first we’ve got to clear the air a little.” Another man, he thought. Lauren’s met another man. There was nothing in her face to discourage that notion. She stared out the window, biting at her lower lip. For a moment David thought she was about to cry, but when she finally spoke, her voice held far more irritation than sadness.
“David,” she said, “a policeman was waiting for me when I arrived home. I spent more than two hours at the police station answering questions from Lieutenant Dockerty—some of them very personal—about you, and about us.”
“Did Dockerty tell you what it was all about?” he asked, relieved that he’d been wrong about another man.
Lauren shook her head. “Only briefly. He was nice enough at first, but his questions got more and more pointed—more and more offensive. Finally I just stalked out and told him I wouldn’t talk to him again without a lawyer. He made it sound like you were really sick and I was protecting you in some way. David, I can’t have—”
“Damn that man!” David shouted. “When this is all over, he’s going to answer for this shit. I’ve had about all I can take.” His fists were white and tight against his thighs. “Lauren, this is a nightmare. The man’s on some land of vendetta. Ever since he came on the scene he’s gone after me like he had blinders on. I didn’t do anything. He’s taken a pile of circumstantial horseshit, and he’s been trying to mold it into some kind of case against me.” His control was disappearing. He sensed it, but was unable to back off. One after another, his words tumbled out, each louder and higher pitched than the last. “I could handle the crap he’s been laying down at the hospital. That I could handle. But hauling you in … The bastard’s gone too far.” He was pacing now, thumping his fist against his side.
“David, please!” Lauren screamed. “You’re acting crazy. Please get hold of yourself. It frightens me to see you like this.”
He stopped in his tracks and forced his hands open. A deep breath, then he said, “I’m sorry, babe. I am. First it’s too much joking, then too much crazy.” He managed a thin smile. “I guess I’m just … too much, huh?” He sank numbly into the couch. “Lauren, could you hold me for a minute?” he asked, reaching his hands to her.
Lauren’s lips tightened. She looked at the floor and shook her head. “David, we’ve got to talk.”
“So talk.” He folded his hands in his lap.
“My wire service has people all over, David. Including the police department here. Business like this—being questioned at the police station and all—my boss is very straight and very conservative. If he gets wind of this—”
“Jesus Christ!” David exploded. “You make it sound as if I’m doing all this to give you a black eye. Can’t you understand that I haven’t done anything? My God, here I am being harassed up and down by some monomaniac, in danger of losing my career—or worse—and my girl friend is worried about being embarrassed in front of her bureau chief. This is insane. Absolutely insane!”
“David”—Lauren’s voice was low and measured with anger—“I’ve told you over and over again how much I dislike the label ‘girl friend.’ Now please calm down, and try to understand my position in this thing, too.”
Speechless, David could only look at her and shake his head. Lauren straightened her dress, sat rigidly upright, and met his incredulity with defiance. “I know you’ll be pleased to hear,” she said, “that of all the things you have to worry about, having to endure the Art Society dinner dance Thursday will not be one of them. After the lieutenant brought me home, Elliot May called and asked if I was planning on going. I knew how little you were looking