I could feel his presence, as if those parts of him emanated evil. I thought about the awful irony. Interpol summoned me to France and after all was said and done, the only legal evidence I had was an Advil bottle filled with water and silt from the Seine.
When it got to be 3:00 A.M., I sat up in bed writing draft after draft of a letter to Talley. Nothing sounded right. I was frightened by how much I missed him and what I had done to him. Now he was striking back and it was exactly what I deserved. .
I crumpled another sheet of stationery and looked at the phone. I calculated what time it was in Lyon and imagined him at his desk in one of his fine suits. I thought of him on the phone and in meetings or maybe escorting someone else around and not giving me a thought. I thought of his hard, smooth body and I wondered where he had learned to be such a lover.
I. went on to work. When it was almost two in the afternoon in France, I decided to call Interpol.
“. . . Bonjour, hello . . .”
“Jay Talley, please,” I said.
I was transferred.
“HIDTA,” a man answered.
I paused, confused. “Is this Jay Talley’s extension?”
“Who is this?”
I told him. .
“He’s not here,” the man said.
Fear shot through me. I didn’t believe him.
“And to whom am I speaking?” I inquired.
“Agent Wilson. I’m the FBI liaison. We didn’t meet the other day. Jay’s out.”
“Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“I’m not really sure.” –
“I see,” I said. “Is it possible for me to reach him? Or can you ask him to call me?”
I knew I sounded nervous.
“I really don’t know where he is,” he replied. “But if he checks in, I’ll let him know you called. Is there something I can help you with?”
“No,” I said.
I hung up and felt panicky. I was certain Talley didn’t want any contact with me and had instructed people that if I called, he wasn’t there.
“Oh, God, oh, God,” I whispered as I walked past Rose’s desk. “What have I done?”
“Are you talking to me?” She looked up from her keyboard, peering at me over her glasses. “Did you lose something again?”
“Yes,” I said.
At half past eight, I walked into the staff meeting and took my usual place at the head of the table.
“What have we got?” I asked.
“Black female, thirty-two years old, from Albemarle County,” Chong began. “Ran off the road and flipped her car. Apparently she just veered off the road and lost control. She has a fracture of the right leg, a basilar skull fracture, and the M.E. for Albemarle County, Dr. Richards, wants to us to do a post.” He looked up at me. “I’m just wondering why? Her cause and manner seem pretty clear.”
“Because the code says we supply services to the local M.E.,” I replied. “They ask, we do it. We can take an hour to post her now, or we can take ten hours later on to sort it out if there’s a problem.”
“Next is an eighty-year-old white female last seen yesterday morning around nine A.m. Her boyfriend found her last night at six-thirty . . .”
I had to work very hard not to tune in and out.
“. . . no known drug abuse or foul play,” Chong droned ón. “Nitroglycerin present at scene.”
Talley made love as if he were starving. I couldn’t believe I was having erotic thoughts in the middle of a staff meeting.
“She needs a look-see for injury, and toxicology,” Fielding was saying. “Needs a view.”
“Anybody know what I’m teaching at the Institute next week?” toxicologist Tim Cooper asked.
“Toxicology, probably.”
“Really.” Cooper sighed “I need a secretary.”
“I’ve got three court appearances today;” Assistant Chief Riley was saying. “Which is, impossible since they’re all over the place.”
The door opened and Roae stuck her head inside and motioned to me to come out into the hall.
“Larry Posner’s got to leave in a little while,” she said. “And he’s wondering if you could stop by his lab right now?”