The Innocent by Harlan Coben Page B

Stephen would show up unharmed and smiling.
    "But now the world feels like the opposite, doesn't it, Matt?"
    He nodded.
    "Instead of believing the bad is a nightmare from which you'll awaken," she went on, "you think it's the good that's an illusion. And that's what this call on your camera phone did. It woke you from the good dream."
    He could not speak.
    "I know that I'll never get past what happened," Sonya McGrath said. "It's simply not possible. But I thought… I hoped maybe you could."
    Matt waited for her to say more. She did not. She rose suddenly, as if she had said too much. They headed together for the exit. Sonya kissed him on the cheek and when they hugged, they both held on longer than usual. He could, as always, feel the devastation emanating from her. Stephen's death was there, in every moment, in every gesture. He sat with them, their forever companion.
    "If you need me," she whispered, "you call. Anytime."
    "I will."
    He watched her walk away. He thought about what she had said, about the fine line between the good dreams and the bad, and then, when she finally disappeared around the corner, he turned away.

Chapter 12
    WHEN MATT REACHED Rolanda's desk, she said, "Cingle's waiting in your office."
    "Thanks."
    "Midlife wants me to buzz him the very second you arrive." Rolanda looked up. "Have you arrived yet?"
    "Give me five."
    She turned back to the computer terminal and started typing. Matt entered. Cingle Shaker was standing looking at the window. "Nice view," she said.
    "You think?"
    "Nah. That's just my idea of small talk."
    "You're very good at it," he said.
    "I thought you were just a paralegal."
    "I am."
    "So why the fancy digs?"
    "It was my brother's."
    "So?"
    "So Bernie was a big rainmaker here."
    "So?" Cingle turned toward him. "I don't want to sound cold, but he's dead."
    "I think you were being hard on yourself before. You really are good at this small talk stuff."
    "No, I mean, he's been dead for, what, three years now? I can't believe they let an ex-con paralegal keep a space like this."
    He smiled. "I knew what you meant."
    "So what gives?"
    "Maybe they're being respectful to my brother's memory."
    "Attorneys?" Cingle made a face. "Please."
    "Actually," he said, "I think they like having me around."
    "Because you're such a nice guy?"
    "Because of the ex-con angle. I'm a fun oddity."
    Cingle nodded. "Kinda like having a lesbian couple at your hoity-toity soiree."
    "Something like that, but even more exotic. It's funny. In some ways I'm the ultimate curiosity. Whenever they're drunk, they all ask me, on the sly, of course, what it's really like for a guy like them to go to the"- he made quote marks with his fingers-"Big House."
    "You're like a local celebrity."
    "In a bizarre way, yeah."
    "And that's why they don't throw you out of the office?"
    He shrugged.
    "They might also be afraid of you," Cingle said. "You already killed one man with your bare hands."
    He sighed and took his seat. Cingle took hers.
    "Sorry," she said.
    He waved her off. "What's up?"
    Cingle crossed her long legs. It was for effect, he knew that, but he wondered if it had become something of an unconscious move on her part. "So tell me," she said. "Why did you want the license plate traced?"
    He spread his hands. "Do we really have to go through the meaning of 'personal' again?"
    "Only if you want me to tell you what I know."
    "So you're resorting to blackmail now?"
    But he could see that she was serious.
    "I think he was following me," Matt said.
    "Why do you think that?"
    "Why do you think? I went a few places, his car was there."
    "And you just happened to pick up on that?"
    "His license plate was close to my initials."
    "Excuse me?"
    Matt explained about the license plate, about the three letters being similar to his own initials, about the way the car raced off when he approached. Cingle listened without moving.
    When Matt finished, Cingle asked, "So why is Charles Talley following you, Matt?"
    "I don't know."
    "No