W hat do you think?”
Rachel Swenson was wrapping up her talk when Diane moved close, a cup of ice in hand.
“I think it’s powerful.”
“You should see some of the interviews I’ve got.”
“I’d like that.”
Diane jiggled some ice into her mouth and crunched down.
“I believe you, Michael. I’m just not quite sure if you’d approve.”
“Of your interviews?”
“Of the content. The confessions. Woman sits in front of my camera and explains how she gutted her husband like a fish. Man raped her every night for a lifetime. That is, when he wasn’t raping her children. Self-defense? Revenge? Most of these women would tell you it doesn’t really matter. As long as the guy is dead.”
“You’re a journalist, Diane. How does it make you feel?”
“At first it bothered me.”
“Bennett appears to be giving you some cover.”
“That’s true. Even so, as I listen, as I get to know the women, I see their point.”
“You could pick up the knife yourself?”
“Didn’t say that. But I can see it. At least from where they sit.”
“Those tapes would make one hell of a story.”
“Maybe,” Diane said. “But that’s not going to happen.”
Then she leaned over and kissed me softly.
“Enough of that. It gives me a headache. This is nice tonight. I like it.”
“Like what?” I said.
“This. Being here. With you. Your friends. It feels good. Feels a little bit like home.”
She spoke the final words reluctantly, with a haunting sort of sadness; delicate, yet indelibly etched in the cast of her features. A sadness that trembled at the precipice of some deep well I could guess at but probably preferred not to. Diane slipped her hand in mine.
“I have to call the station. After that, let’s go.”
I nodded. She kissed me again, lightly on the forehead, then the cheek. I watched her melt into the crowd. There was something going on in this relationship. I just wished someone would clue me in as to what it might be.
“Hey.”
I turned. Nicole drew an arm through mine and we headed across the ballroom floor.
“What did you think of the night?” she said.
“What am I supposed to think?”
We found an empty spot, near a set of floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over a river of headlights flowing north and south along Lake Shore Drive.
“I wanted you here,” Nicole said. “I wanted you to understand.”
“You thinking of telling your story, Nicole?”
She moved away from the window. I held out an arm to stop her, but she didn’t need it.
“Not to worry, Michael. This girl isn’t talking.”
“It’s all right, you know.”
“Is it?”
“Diane told me about her project.”
“The interviews?”
“Yeah.”
“She asked me a couple of times if I wanted to participate. Just like that. Didn’t ask if I’d been assaulted. Just seemed to know and moved right to it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. She’s a sharp one, Michael. If I were you, I’d keep her.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe? Seriously, what exactly could be wrong with that woman? She’s smart as hell. Drop-dead gorgeous. Down-to-earth. Funny. Dedicated. Want me to keep going?”
“A little too intense, maybe?”
“The commitment thing, Michael. It’s really a problem.”
“It’s not a commitment thing, Nicole. I like her. Okay. Maybe I’ll like her a lot. Let’s just wait and see.”
“You wait too long, the world moves right on by.”
Nicole stepped close and drew both arms around my waist.
“I’m sorry, Michael. I’m being a pain, but I just love you. A lot. I know you hate to hear that, but I do and I always will.”
“I don’t hate to hear it, Nicole.”
“Okay, you like it.”
“Didn’t say that, either.”
“Damn, we have some great talks.”
She laughed. I laughed.
“I’m happy, Nicole. Not incredibly happy. Not yet. But that’s going to be there. I just want it to be real. To be right. Most of all, I guess I want to deserve it. You understand?”
“No.”
“But you trust me.”
“Unfathomably and irrationally so.”
“Good. Now tell me about our friend Detective Rodriguez.”
“What do you think?”
“Truth?”
Nicole stepped back and gave me a single nod.
“I think he’s the one,” I said.
“How did you know?”
“I just know.”
My friend looked away, out over Lake Shore Drive, into the jeweled and beating heart of the world’s greatest city. Believe it or not, I actually had a handkerchief to offer.
“Thanks. The makeup is going to run.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Happy will do that to you.”
“Yeah, it’s all of that. I never would have believed it. But it’s amazing.”
I gave her a minute.
“Been a long run, Michael.”
“Think it’s coming together?”
“I do,” she said.
We began to walk. Slow and nice.
“By the way,” I said, “Bennett was asking about you. Again.”
“I didn’t see him.”
“Does he know about Rodriguez?”
“He does now.” Nicole smiled. “Bennett’s sweet.”
“Like I said, obsessed. In a good way.”
“You jealous, Michael?”
Nicole tried to grab the back of my tux, but I moved away, drifted down toward the lobby. I could see Rodriguez at the bar and Diane just beyond. I felt relaxed, maybe too much so, and a bit disconnected. I wondered how this was really playing for me. It would be interesting to find out.
“What are you guys doing afterward?” Nicole said.
“Not sure. Maybe a late dinner, drinks. You game?”
Nicole shook her head.
“Vince has got early duty tomorrow and I’m swamped. By the way, I haven’t forgotten about you. I ran a DNA extraction on that shirt. Should have something soon.”
“You have time?”
“It’s a little crazy right now, but I can get it done. Got some strange stuff going on in the lab these days.”
“How so?”
“Some things I can talk about. Some I just can’t.”
I turned to face my friend.
“Go for it.”
“Right now?”
“Why not.”
“Okay. Vince and I did a workup of unsolved sexual assaults over the past five years. We have targeted seven assaults on the North Side, all home invasions, all within two miles of one another.”
“Same MO?”
“Pretty close. Attacker keeps his face hidden, so we have no suspect description. The one you rolled on with me the other night…”
“Miriam Hope?”
“Right. She’s part of the group.”
“DNA?”
“None so far. Miriam’s our best bet. I’m running her bedsheets right now. If the rapist cried, he may have left some tears. It’s a shot.”
“This is just you and Vince right now?”
“Yeah.”
“All right. Now, what can’t you talk about?”
“The twelve-year-old…”
“Jennifer Cole?”
“Yeah. I ran the semen we found in the alley…”
“And?”
“Can’t talk about it.”
“But you want to.”
“I need to.”
“How do we do this?” I said.
“I don’t know yet. Give me a little time.”
I shrugged. Nicole squeezed my hand.
“I gotta run,” she said. “Thanks again for coming tonight. Thanks for the talk. Means everything, Michael.”
I gave her a final hug just as Diane drifted over. We moved through the Drake’s revolving doors and into the October night that was Chicago. I took a final look back and caught my oldest friend’s eye. Nicole began to wave, but a couple passed between us. When the path cleared, she was gone.
I searched the lobby and found her a few feet away, turned at an angle, talking to Bennett Davis. Rodriguez was nowhere to be seen. I smiled. As the Irish say, everyone loves a trier.
I moved onto the street and into a cab. Diane and I had a late dinner at Gibson’s. It was nice but not quite real. We were eating the meal and drinking the drinks, telling the stories and grinning the grins, feeling the part, but not quite.
I had the cabbie drop Diane off at her apartment. Then I went home alone. An hour later I was fighting to stay awake and failing miserably. In that moment of clarity just before sleep, I thought of Nicole, alone in her lab, working through the night and into the next day’s dawn. I wanted to get up, wanted to keep her company. Instead I fell into a cold slumber, a heavy sort of quiet pressing down and stretching toward the darkness.