Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(43)

I wondered vaguely if my arguments in the courtroom ever sounded this obvious.

Once home, I raced to the landline in the kitchen and called Drew’s office at EllisIntel. “I’m so sorry,” I blurted, the second he picked up. “I fell asleep at the hospital.”

“I figured that might have happened,” Drew said. “I took the Rover.”

“Right. Yeah.” I chewed my lip. “I thought you’d be mad at me.” Why aren’t you mad at me?

“Mad? Of course not. You’ve had a real rough couple of days, to say the least.” I could hear his smile over the line. “And the Porsche belongs to you as much as it does to me. What’s mine is yours. Or will be, once we’re married.” He cleared his throat. “How uh…how is Cory?”

“Better. They think he’s going to be fine.”

“Wonderful.”

“Yeah. It is.”

“Alex, I feel like a broken record asking you, but are you okay? Maybe you should see someone. A therapist—”

“No,” I said, snapping to. “I have to talk to the F.B.I. today. That’ll bring closure, right? Like you said? Therapy is fine for some people but it isn’t for me.”

“Alex, I love your mother to pieces, you know I do. But I can practically hear her voice coming out of your mouth.”

He was right. Marilyn Gardener had particular ideas about help. Never show weakness and Act strong and you will be strong, were a few of her favorite mantras.

“Jesus, Drew, the robbery happened less than thirty-six hours ago,” I said. “Give me a week before you start in with your diagnoses.”

“All right, all right.” Drew sighed. “What time is your appointment?”

“Ten a.m. I’m going to stop by the office first and see where Munro stands then leave straight from there.”

“Do you want me to come with you? To give the statement?”

My mouth dropped. “I assumed you would…” Then I wondered if Wolfman had given his statement, and if it included how a twenty thousand dollar diamond ring came into his possession.

But Drew said, “No, no, of course I’ll be there. For moral support. I’m sorry, I’m just buried and wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Okay,” I said weakly. “Thank you.”

“Of course. See you there.”

“See you there.”

We hung up and I steeled myself. I would tell him. I should tell him before we walked into those offices to avoid an unpleasant scene.

But then a fierce desire to protect those private moments came over me. It was no one’s business what happened that night but Cory’s and mine. A stolen handful of minutes amid a terrible ordeal of pain and fear and death. It was private and it was going to stay that way, no matter what.

#

I showered and then dressed in another of my designer suits. I coiled my hair in a tight twist and applied liberal amounts of makeup to conceal how tired my eyes looked. After, I studied myself in the mirror. I had the sallow visage of someone recovering from an illness.

“But I am recovering,” I declared. “I don’t need therapy. I need to get back into it.”

I took a few breaths, yoga-style, and realized I did feel better. More like myself, dressed in my work uniform. My armor. I went to the kitchen and the last half of the sandwich Drew had bought me yesterday. Nothing tasted better than that day-old tuna salad, and I burst out laughing.

The drive to the offices of Lawson & Dooney sobered me slightly. I wasn’t expecting great news about the Munro case, but I’d fix it. I’d put back together whatever had been broken and my reputation would remain intact. My whole life would go back to the way it was. It was already on the right track, I could feel it.

Shocked stares from my coworkers greeted me. They converged to embrace me and tell how horrified they’d been to learn what had happened, and how glad they were I was safe.

“I’d have a party ready for you if you’d told me you coming in,” Abed said. “It’s strange not getting twenty texts a day from you. Sorry, did I say per day? I meant per hour.”

“The F.B.I. still has my phone,” I said. “I’ll get it back today and the deluge will continue.”

Abed grinned and after a small hesitation, gave me an awkward hug. “Bad Cop’s not happy,” he whispered in my ear. “Be warned.”

Jon Lawson came out of his office just as Michael Dooney emerged from his. Mr. Lawson beamed to see me, while Mr. Dooney’s narrow face looked pinched, his eyes hard.

“Alex.” Lawson approached, arms outstretched. “You gave us quite the scare.” He gave me a fatherly hug and then held me at arm’s length. “Are you okay? Nothing broken?” he teased.

“I’m fine,” I replied. “I’m ready to get back on board with Munro. I heard yesterday that the judge questioned the jury for influence.”

“Ms. Gardener, would you step in here please?” Mr. Dooney didn’t wait for an answer, but retreated into his office.

The entire staff suddenly had something better to do and got back to work. Abed gave me a sympathetic parting glance as I followed Mr. Lawson into Dooney’s office. I felt as if I were back in high school and being sent to the principal’s office. Only this is much worse than getting caught ditching class or stealing a smoke under the bleachers.