space, feeling like Theseus without a thread.
“You forget the scope of the justice system,” Mia said. “And you handle all this yourself?”
“One man per shift,” Charlie said. “It’s really slow most of the time. I’m kind of like the librarian, checking things in and out.”
“Do you ever get lonely?”
“Nah, kind of peaceful. Besides, there’s usually a decent flow of people throughout the day to tell me what’s going on in the world.”
“What do you do if you get hungry?”
“I bring a bag lunch or dinner, but …”
Charlie smiled and tilted his head for them to follow him as he turned down row S. He reached up and pulled down a large cardboard box labeled
Evidence 9530273
. He lifted the lid to reveal a bag of Oreos, a six of beer, two bottles of water, some chips, magazines, and VHS tapes of
The Quiet Man, The Poseidon Adventure, True Grit,
and
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
.
“I’m prepared for any scenario,” he said in a mock-serious tone.
Jack and Mia laughed, appreciating the humor intended to break Mia’s serious mood.
Charlie put the box away and led them back out to the center aisle. He finally turned and pointed to a vacant section of shelf on row Y. They all looked up.
“Stick it up there in the white-collar-crime section away from all the drugs, jewels, and guns. No one will have any interest in it over here.” Charlie turned and headed back toward his office.
Jack turned to Mia and looked into her eyes. “You’re not going to tell me what’s in the case, are you?”
Mia slowly shook her head.
Jack looked at her as he slid the box onto the deep shelf seven feet up. “You’re sure about this?”
Mia looked up into his eyes. She couldn’t hide her worry. There was an intensity in her face, a focus like Jack had rarely seen. Mia was excellent at hiding her emotions, her thoughts, never betraying her inner feelings to the outside world. But Jack wasn’t the outside world. He could read her as if she were an open book.
“I’ve never been more sure about anything,” Mia softly said.
And finally, Jack realized that what he saw in his wife’s eyes wasn’t worry or concern about her latest case. It was a far more base emotion.
It was fear.
CHAPTER 14
F RIDAY , 9:00 A.M .
M IA’S EYES OPENED WITH a start, her heart already pounding in her ears as she awoke from a nightmare into something far worse. She looked around the barren, windowless room, and except for the bed she lay on and the tray of food on the floor, there was nothing to offer any indication of where she was. The heavy brass knobs were polished to a high sheen, while the key mechanism for a dead bolt looked average and recently installed. There was a single lamp in the corner, its forty-watt bulb casting heavy shadows in the small, confined space. The room was not more than ten foot square, and she couldn’t imagine its function beyond a jail cell.
She rose from the bed, her shoulder sore, her head throbbing, and reached for the brass doorknob, although she knew what she would find as she turned and tugged on the thick, heavy door. She laid her ear against the white oak and gently shook the door, listening to its hollow reverberation on the other side. There was no reaction, no approaching footsteps, just the soft echo of the knob turning to and fro and, in the distance, the faint sounds of the city.
Mia turned and looked at the tray of food on the floor. There was a sealed bottle of water. A loaf of bread, cheese, fruit, and a wedge ofsausage, like a welcoming tray from some fine hotel. And although she felt hungry—starving, actually—the hollow pit in her stomach, the mix of fear and anger, was too overwhelming to allow her even to think of eating.
Mia had always been able to master her emotions, contain her fear, her pain, her disappointment. Her stepfather had instilled in her that the display of emotions was for the weak, the unintelligent, a sign of our animal heritage. The display of
“You forget the scope of the justice system,” Mia said. “And you handle all this yourself?”
“One man per shift,” Charlie said. “It’s really slow most of the time. I’m kind of like the librarian, checking things in and out.”
“Do you ever get lonely?”
“Nah, kind of peaceful. Besides, there’s usually a decent flow of people throughout the day to tell me what’s going on in the world.”
“What do you do if you get hungry?”
“I bring a bag lunch or dinner, but …”
Charlie smiled and tilted his head for them to follow him as he turned down row S. He reached up and pulled down a large cardboard box labeled
Evidence 9530273
. He lifted the lid to reveal a bag of Oreos, a six of beer, two bottles of water, some chips, magazines, and VHS tapes of
The Quiet Man, The Poseidon Adventure, True Grit,
and
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
.
“I’m prepared for any scenario,” he said in a mock-serious tone.
Jack and Mia laughed, appreciating the humor intended to break Mia’s serious mood.
Charlie put the box away and led them back out to the center aisle. He finally turned and pointed to a vacant section of shelf on row Y. They all looked up.
“Stick it up there in the white-collar-crime section away from all the drugs, jewels, and guns. No one will have any interest in it over here.” Charlie turned and headed back toward his office.
Jack turned to Mia and looked into her eyes. “You’re not going to tell me what’s in the case, are you?”
Mia slowly shook her head.
Jack looked at her as he slid the box onto the deep shelf seven feet up. “You’re sure about this?”
Mia looked up into his eyes. She couldn’t hide her worry. There was an intensity in her face, a focus like Jack had rarely seen. Mia was excellent at hiding her emotions, her thoughts, never betraying her inner feelings to the outside world. But Jack wasn’t the outside world. He could read her as if she were an open book.
“I’ve never been more sure about anything,” Mia softly said.
And finally, Jack realized that what he saw in his wife’s eyes wasn’t worry or concern about her latest case. It was a far more base emotion.
It was fear.
CHAPTER 14
F RIDAY , 9:00 A.M .
M IA’S EYES OPENED WITH a start, her heart already pounding in her ears as she awoke from a nightmare into something far worse. She looked around the barren, windowless room, and except for the bed she lay on and the tray of food on the floor, there was nothing to offer any indication of where she was. The heavy brass knobs were polished to a high sheen, while the key mechanism for a dead bolt looked average and recently installed. There was a single lamp in the corner, its forty-watt bulb casting heavy shadows in the small, confined space. The room was not more than ten foot square, and she couldn’t imagine its function beyond a jail cell.
She rose from the bed, her shoulder sore, her head throbbing, and reached for the brass doorknob, although she knew what she would find as she turned and tugged on the thick, heavy door. She laid her ear against the white oak and gently shook the door, listening to its hollow reverberation on the other side. There was no reaction, no approaching footsteps, just the soft echo of the knob turning to and fro and, in the distance, the faint sounds of the city.
Mia turned and looked at the tray of food on the floor. There was a sealed bottle of water. A loaf of bread, cheese, fruit, and a wedge ofsausage, like a welcoming tray from some fine hotel. And although she felt hungry—starving, actually—the hollow pit in her stomach, the mix of fear and anger, was too overwhelming to allow her even to think of eating.
Mia had always been able to master her emotions, contain her fear, her pain, her disappointment. Her stepfather had instilled in her that the display of emotions was for the weak, the unintelligent, a sign of our animal heritage. The display of
Similar Books
