The Boy from the Woods(53)

Eventually Sondra gave him a key card.

“They gave me two when I came in,” Sondra quickly explained. “One for the living room, one for the bedroom, you know what I mean?”

Wilde, still nursing his second blonde lager, assured her that he did.

“Anyway, I can’t sleep yet with the time change. I’m going to do some work in the living room, if you want to come up later and have a nightcap.”

Nightcap. Mixer. Co-ed. It was like he was living in 1963.

He thanked Sondra but promised nothing. She headed to the elevator. He stared at the key card so as not to stare at her. A drink, she’d said. In the living room—not the bedroom. Maybe that was all it was. Maybe it was nothing more than that.

Then a tall man with a ponytail asked, “Are you going to go up?”

The tall man grabbed the stool right next to him, despite the fact that there had to be twenty open ones.

“She’s very attractive,” the tall man said. “I like redheads, don’t you?”

Wilde said nothing.

The tall man stuck out his hand. “My name is Saul,” he said.

“Strauss,” Wilde added.

“You know who I am?”

Wilde didn’t reply.

“Well, I’m flattered.”

Wilde had seen Strauss on Hester’s show every once in a while. He was a good talking head—an endearing mix of that super-progressive college professor with the cred of being a bona fide war hero. Wilde was not a fan of pundits. They came on television to either confirm your narrative or piss you off, and either way, that wasn’t healthy for anyone.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Strauss said.

“But you know it.”

“Does anyone?” He gave Wilde an inquisitive look that must wow the college—to use Hester’s vernacular—co-eds. “They call you Wilde, right? You’re the infamous boy from the woods.”

Wilde pulled out the necessary bills from his wallet and dropped them on the bar. “It was nice meeting you,” he said, rising.

Strauss was unruffled. “So you’re going up to her room?”

“Seriously?”

“I don’t mean to pry.”

“Hey, Saul—can I call you Saul?”

“Sure.”

“Why don’t we skip the rest of the foreplay and get to it?”

“Is that your plan when you go upstairs?” Strauss quickly raised a palm. “Sorry, that was going too far.”

Wilde started to walk away.

Strauss said, “I hear you had a run-in with the Maynard kid today.”

Wilde turned back to him.

“You asked me to skip the foreplay, right?” Strauss said.

“Heard from whom?”

“I have my sources.”

“And they are?”

“Anonymous.”

“Bye then.”

Strauss put his hand on Wilde’s forearm. His grip was surprisingly strong. “It could be important.”

Wilde hesitated, but then he sat back down. He was curious. Strauss was a partisan—who wasn’t nowadays?—but he’d also hit Wilde as something of a straight shooter. Instinctively, Wilde had thought that the best move was to simply blow the man off, but with a little more time to reason, he started to wonder what he had to lose by listening here.

Not a thing.

Wilde said, “I’m looking for a teenage girl who probably ran away.”

“Naomi Pine.”

Wilde shouldn’t have been surprised. “Your sources are good.”

“You’re not the only one here who is ex-military. What does Crash Maynard have to do with Naomi Pine?”

Strauss was all business now.

“Maybe nothing.”

“But?”

“She’s an outcast. He’s Mr. Popular. Yet there’s been some interaction.”

“Could you be more specific?” Strauss asked.

“Why don’t you ask your ‘source’?”

“Do you know anything about the Maynards’ relationship with Rusty Eggers?”

“I know that Maynard was his producer.”

“Dash Maynard created Eggers.”

“Okay.”

Strauss leaned in closer. “Do you realize how dangerous Eggers is?”

Wilde saw no reason to answer that one.

“Do you?” Strauss insisted.

“Let’s say I do.”

“And you’ve heard about the Maynard tapes?”

“I don’t see the connection,” Wilde said.

“There may not be one. Wilde, can I ask you a favor? Not a favor really. You’re a patriot. You want those tapes released, I’m sure.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

“I know you want the truth. I know you want justice.”

“And I don’t know that you bring either of those things.”

“Truth is an absolute. Or it used to be. The Maynard tapes should be released because the people should know the truth about Rusty Eggers. Who can argue with that? If the people see the truth—the full truth—and still want to hand the keys to the country to this nihilist, okay, that’s one thing.”