Zero Game - Brad Meltzer [152]
“Harris, we should go,” Dan says. “You’re falling apart, bro.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m fine,” I insist.
“C’mon . . . don’t be a jackass. You’ve been through five and a half hours of interrogation—even the agents said you should take a break. Look at you—you can’t even stand.”
“You know what they’re doing in there,” I say, pointing to the closed doors.
“It doesn’t matter . . .”
“It does matter! To me it does. Now just give me a few more minutes.”
“Harris, we’ve been waiting here two hours already—it’s almost midnight; you need to get your nose set, and a cast for your arm.”
“My arm’s fine,” I say, readjusting the sling the paramedics gave me.
“But if you—”
“Dan, I know you mean well—and I love you for it—but just be humble for once and acknowledge that this is one part of the problem you can’t fix.”
“Humble?” he asks, making a face. “I hate humble. And I hate humble even more on you.”
Glancing down between my knees, I see my reflection in the marble floor. “Yeah, well . . . sometimes it’s not as bad as you think.”
He says something else, but I’m not listening. Sunk down, I take another look at the closed doors. After everything I’ve been through, this is the one thing I care about right now.
Forty minutes later, I can feel the thump of my heartbeat pumping down the length of my arm. But when the doors to the reading room open, every ounce of pain is gone . . . and an entirely new one takes its place.
Viv walks out of the room with two bandages over her eyebrow. Her bottom lip is cut and swollen, and she’s holding a baby blue ice pack to her other eye.
I climb to my feet and try to make contact, but a double-breasted suit quickly steps between us.
“Why don’t you leave her alone for a bit,” her lawyer says, putting his palm against my chest. He’s a tall African-American man with a bushy caterpillar mustache. When we were first taken in, I told Viv she could use Dan, but her parents quickly brought in their own attorney. I don’t blame them. Since then, the FBI and the lawyer have made sure Viv and I haven’t seen, heard, or spoken to each other. I don’t blame them for that either. It’s a smart move. Distance your client. I’ve never met this lawyer before, but from the suit alone, I can tell he’ll get the job done. And while I’m not sure how Viv’s family can afford him, considering all the press this’ll get, I don’t think he’s worried. “Did you hear what I said, son? She’s had a long night.”
“I want to talk to her,” I say.
“Why? So you can mess her life up even more than you have already?”
“She’s my friend,” I insist.
“Mr. Thornell, it’s okay,” Viv says, nudging him aside. “I can . . . I’ll be fine.”
Checking to be sure, Thornell decides to take her cue. He steps about two feet away. Viv gives him another look, and he heads back to the display cases, where Dan and the other FBI agent are. For now, we’ve got the corner of the gilded hallway all to ourselves.
I look over at Viv, but she avoids my gaze, dropping her eyes to the floor. It’s been eight hours since we’ve last spoken. I’ve spent the past three trying to figure out exactly what I wanted to say. I don’t remember a single word.
“How’s your eye?” “How’s your arm?” we both ask simultaneously.
“I’ll live,” we both reply.
It’s enough to get a small smile out of Viv, but she quickly pulls it down. I’m still the one who got her in this mess. Whatever she’s feeling, it’s clearly taking a toll.
“Y’know, you didn’t have to do what you