City Dark(62)

“We’ve talked a little about this,” she said. He saw her scribble the name Nate and underline it three times. “Robbie was gone long before your uncle died, right?”

“Yeah. He never accepted Mike as a caretaker, or us as a family. Maybe he didn’t want to let go of Lois, I don’t know. Or maybe he was just pissed off. He broke all of Mike’s rules, and there weren’t many. He turned sixteen that December, and Mike couldn’t control him. After a while he was just gone. We were lucky to see him at holidays.”

Aideen was writing, then stopped and looked up. “So what happened with Nate, the guy who helped you?”

“I have no idea,” Joe said, shaking his head. “He was a friend of my uncle’s, as far as I was told. Then, one day, I just didn’t see him around. I guess I should have known it was more than friendship, that something had broken down between them.”

“Most guys hid being gay then,” she said. “I’m sure your uncle felt he couldn’t tell you.”

“Probably. It wouldn’t have bothered me, though. I hope he knew that.”

“I’ll bet he did.” She wasn’t exactly smiling, but her face was warm and glowing. For a moment he wondered who had body snatched the Aideen he had known for so long.

“So what now?”

She blew out a breath, finished a note, and underlined something a few times. “I keep digging.”

“I’ll never be able to thank you for this,” he said. “I know the money isn’t enough. Not for what you’re doing.”

“The money’s not bad, actually.” She grinned, and the spell seemed to be broken. She was Aideen again. Still, he could see this other oddly hopeful person underneath. “Anyway, don’t worry about me.”

“I do, though. Please don’t let this consume you, Aideen.”

“I need this too.” Her eyes went cold, her jaw firm. “It’s not important why, not for now. But I do. Anyway, I’m more interested in how you’re holding up in here. Where your head is. How you’re doing without alcohol.”

“Better than I expected.” That was true, and he’d expected everything from night sweats to tremors. Nothing like that was happening. It was uncomfortable. He craved the taste. The pleasant burn. The spreading, calming glow of liquor. It was painful to reflect on it sometimes, and his hands shook. It was working, though. It wasn’t like he could walk into a liquor store where he was, but there was alcohol at Rikers, and by now he could have established the connections to get it if he needed it. He didn’t. He was dry, and he was staying that way, at least for now. “Honestly, I’m okay.”

“Normally I wouldn’t believe that. I sort of see it, though. You look better. It makes no sense, I guess, but . . .”

“I’m wiser, a little. This place . . .” He looked around as if seeing it for the first time. “It’s miserable, but it’s been—I don’t know how to put it. ‘Educational’ sounds stupid. ‘Enlightening’? Maybe that’s it. I feel a little more whole, even if it’s too late to do me any good.”

“Don’t give up yet.”

“I’m not,” he said, and meant it. But he also meant it when he said he was doing better, the tranquilizing bottle behind him. It was hard to explain, and it needed to sink in further, but he was clearer than he had ever been—about Lois, about Robbie, about what was behind him, and even about what lay ahead. He was strangely centered and calm. He only wished Aideen wasn’t going too far, wading too deep into his and his family’s fucked-up pathologies. Aideen was all in, though, and not even he could pull her back out. He stood and met the gaze of the guard who was supervising them, then brought his eyes back to her. “Thank you for this. Now please get out of this awful place.”

“Just until next time. Hang in there until then.” She looked determined, almost pouty. He wasn’t sure, but he had an odd feeling that she would fight this like the devil, even if she believed he was guilty. He smiled and turned away.





CHAPTER 50


Wednesday, August 23, 2017

Lexington Avenue and Sixty-First Street Manhattan

3:45 p.m.

The place was called Jamie’s Juice, and Aideen went there whenever she was in the neighborhood. It was a hole in the wall that served up wonderful green juices and healthy drinks. She was walking out and sticking the straw through the top of the plastic cup when she heard her name.

“Aideen Bradigan?” The voice was thick with all the things she had married, built a life with, and then buried. NYPD, through and through. She turned toward it and saw an older man, maybe fifty-five or sixty, in a pair of gray slacks and a simple white golf shirt. He had a generous gut and a short silver crew cut.

“Who wants to know?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.

He walked over. “So I wasn’t gonna return your phone call.”

“Well, you didn’t return it. You found me.” She recognized him now. It was one of Aaron Hathorne’s former investigators. Sean something.

“I did, yeah. I mean, it’s what I do.”

“Okay.”

“You were married to Ben Bradigan.” It wasn’t a question.

“I was, yes.”

“I’m Sean Hogan. I knew Ben; he was a good cop. I was really sorry when he passed.”