Page 84 of The Undead

“Okay.”

After a long time, she followed him out to his car.

It was getting closer and closer to sunrise, but Maggie had a stop to make, and Nick was cheaper than a cab driver. He left her in the lot at Oily Square and peeled out without looking back. She didn’t spend much time doing that, either, just went in the emergency entrance and found her way to the waiting room.

It was full of cops.

Andy McDonnell was sitting in a corner with Lieutenant Jefferson and Frankie’s wife, Linda. He was holding Linda’s hand, but it was as if he didn’t even know he was doing it; he and Jefferson were deep in conversation, or question-and-answer. The lines around his mouth were deeper than usual. He looked one minute away from passing out. Maggie hesitated by the door; she didn’t know why, but McDonnell looked up and right at her. He shook his head slightly and jerked it to the side—meaningget out of sight.Maggie nodded and walked off.

She hadn’t mistaken him. After about a minute he walked out and headed straight toward her.

“Keep walking,” he said in a completely conversational tone. “You are in one damn big pot of boiling water, you know that?”

“How’s Frank?”

“Alive. Barely. They had to thump him a couple of times in the ambulance to get him here.” McDonnell glanced at her. “You look like hell.”

“I didn’t come to pose forVogue.What’s going on?”

They came to a pair of stained-glass doors. McDonnell, after a quick glance inside, pushed them open and dragged her in. It was the chapel—deserted. They sat down in one of the pews. Maggie shrugged his coat off and handed it across to him; he put it on without comment.

“Look, Maggie, you know I like you, but I’m not going into the soup with you, you know what I mean? I’ve got other people to think about. Frank. Linda.” McDonnell avoided her eyes. She kept staring at him. “IAD’s asking questions about Nick. About you. The lieutenant’s getting pretty damn nervous, and I don’t blame him; one of us goes down, a lot of us usually go down with him.”

Maggie felt a shiver run up her spine. Without really meaning to, she reached out and took his hand. He looked up, green eyes weary and guarded.

“Look, Frank’s young, he’s new, he’ll get french-fried by these guys. I can’t take that chance. If they come to me, I’m going to tell them everything I know,” McDonnell finished. His fingers were tense in hers.

“Jesus,” Maggie whispered. She couldn’t even think anymore. Too much, too fast … “Andy, I thought you said Nick was putting pressure out to stop it.”

“He’d better work faster, Bowman. Look, I know Nick’s not the best cop in the world; you don’t have to go down with him, not if you go to them first.”

“To IAD? I can’t do that.”

“You told me you wanted to.” He frowned. She wiped at her sore forehead with a damp sleeve.

“Yeah, that was—” Another lifetime ago. “Earlier. Now I don’t want to talk to anybody.”

“Then you’ve got to get the hell out of here and let things cool off.” He stopped working his hands together and looked directly at her; McDonnell’s full attention was unsettling even when you were innocent, and Maggie knew she wasn’t. “You’re going to forget about what you said about Angelo Santos?”

She didn’t answer. McDonnell got up and started pacing, hands jammed in the pockets of his raincoat. He kept shaking his head, not denying it so much as emphasizing it.

“What do you want me to say, Andy? That I’m putting a price on Nick’s life? Maybe I am, shit, maybe Michael’s life was worth more than just an ‘I’m sorry,’ it was a terrible accident, we should have pulled that drunk driver over.’ He was my husband. He was my—” Her voice suddenly went strange and thin. She couldn’t get the last word out. The sobs seemed to push up from the base of her breasts, a dull liquid ache like soured milk. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth.

McDonnell put his hand on her back and rubbed it gently, like a father soothing a restless baby. Oh, God, she’d wanted Mike’s baby. And somehow she knew already that even if he really was walking again, it was too late for thinking about babies. All their time had run out.

“I want somebody topay,” Maggie whispered. She sounded like a little girl. “Forsomething.And I can’t even have that.”

She could fed him at her back, solid and alive, tense as a watchspring. He bent. She felt the pressure of his lips against her hair.

“No,” he said, just as softly. Just as emptily. “There isn’t much justice left in the world. Be careful. There aren’t enough people left who want it, either.”

By the time Maggie controlled her tears McDonnell had drawn back, warmth gone. He stood in the aisle in awkward silence and watched her while she wiped her face.

“You okay?” he asked—a stupid question, and they both knew it. She managed to smile.

“Oh, sure. Fine.” The humor fell flat. She scrubbed at her face again. She was sick of crying, sick of grieving, sick to death of being scared.No more.There was a certain point where you just got numb, and she felt herself sliding into that blessed little death. “I’ll be okay.”

He didn’t look convinced. He didn’t have to. Maggie wasn’t going to make it easier on him, and she guessed he knew that; he took it with his usual strength, only the green eyes betraying how painful it was. They stared at each other without saying anything else, and then he turned and walked toward the chapel doors. She wanted to scream at him, but it wouldn’t have done anything. And it wouldn’t have been respectful.

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