Living Proof, стр. 34
“What man worships,” the preacher was saying, “is indicative of his very essence, for reverence is man’s deepest form of love, one which holds the key to his soul.”
Trent bit his lip, confronted by the rise of his own insecurities about life and truth, God and meaning, that he had managed to repress since focusing on the case. I worship nothing, he thought. Journalism, traveling, music, nature, food. Nothing worthy enough.
Suddenly he couldn’t bear to stand in the back of the hall any longer. He turned and ran out, clutching the list he knew was useless. He stood on the cracked sidewalk, staring at the names of the last three churches, squinting to focus on anything but his own thoughts. The next address was only one avenue west; for the sake of activity, more than thoroughness, he trudged there. At that church, and the next, and the last, he sought her out in vain. She is as absent as my faith, he thought. Now, where to find both?
Leaving the final church, he called Dopp. “She wasn’t in any of the churches that matched her description.”
Dopp let out a low whistle. “I thought her religiousness was too good to be true.”
“But why would she lie to me?” A voice of denial suggested that maybe she had not lied; she could have been too sick to attend church after all.…
“She’s obviously hiding something and trying to get around it,” Dopp said. “But I have a new idea.”
“What?”
“Dealing with liars is tricky, and I’d be able to guide you better if I could observe her up close. I’ve never even set eyes on the woman.”
“I’m listening.”
“Next weekend is Christmas. I plan to have a family dinner with a few special guests: you, your parents, and Ms. Drake.”
“What do my parents have to do with this? They don’t know anything!”
“You can tell them now. I know from my friend Father Paul that they are honest Christians, and we need their help. You are going to be my nephew for the day, and your father will be my brother. It’s going to be a simple family get-together, and she will be your date. Now that she’s starting to fall for you, we need to push her to trust you, so we’re ramping up the game.”
Trent flinched at the last word. “Okay…”
“Introducing her to your parents will show that you care enough that you won’t abandon her, despite her disease. And I’ll get to observe her.”
“I see.”
“Call her right now to invite her—it’s for next Saturday night, Christmas Eve—and then call me back to confirm.”
“Okay. But wait, what if she recognizes who you are?”
“She can’t.”
“Why not? She could have seen your picture online, or—”
“Have you seen my picture online ever?”
Trent thought for a moment. “I don’t know.”
“You haven’t. You know why? I’ve never allowed it to be published.”
“Why not?”
“Do you think I want to run the risk of being recognized in the most liberal city in the country?”
“No.”
“So call her.”
When Arianna answered, Trent could hear voices in the background.
“Hey,” she said cheerfully.
“How are you feeling this morning?”
“Better, thanks. Sorry about last night, but I really needed to sleep. What’s up?”
“Actually, I, uh, was wondering what you’re doing for Christmas Eve next weekend?”
“Nothing much, why?”
“Well, my family always has this dinner party on Long Island, and they—we—were hoping you could join us.”
There was a pause, and her voice dropped. “Are you sure you want to introduce me to your parents? It’s sweet, but aren’t you—?” Her voice trailed off.
“I just want to enjoy the present with you,” he declared, wondering desperately if that were a lie. “We’ll deal with that when we have to. And my family doesn’t know. All I told them was that I’m seeing an amazing woman. So they really want to meet you.”
He felt her smile transcend their phone lines, from wherever she was. “Then I would love to enjoy the present with you as well,” she said. “Let’s do it. Besides, I bake a mean chocolate cake. That ought to win them over.”
Trent laughed ruefully. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
A man’s voice grumbled in the background, but Trent couldn’t make out his words.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“I told you last night,” she said. “I’m at church.”
“You—you are?”
“So I can’t talk. Thanks for the invite, though. I’m looking forward to it.”
* * *
Trent pulled the phone from his ear and realized he had stopped in his tracks in the middle of the street. He crushed an empty soda can with his heel. The aluminum crunch of its destruction was so satisfying that he kicked it hard. For two blocks, he kicked it, until he reached the stairs leading down to the subway and the can was mangled tin.
One final call stood before him and the train.
Dopp answered after a single ring.
“She’s coming,” Trent said. “And she’s definitely lying.”
EIGHT
Arianna and Megan pulled up to Sam’s Union Square West apartment in a cab, as the alternative fifteen-minute walk was too grueling an option for her. “He needs to remember how appreciated he is,” Arianna said as they got out in front of an aquamarine glass skyscraper.
On the twenty-eighth floor, in the corner, solitary as its resident, stood a door with chipped black paint.
Arianna knocked. No answer.
She slapped her palm against the door.
“Who’s there?” snapped a faraway voice.
“It’s me,” she called. She heard footsteps draw nearer as his voice got louder.
“I don’t know any me’s,” Sam said, swinging open the door. His chin looked freshly shaved and his silver hair damp. He was clad in sweatpants and a T-shirt that hung loosely over his shoulders. At the sight of Arianna, his habitual scowl flipped into its opposite. “What are you doing here?”
Megan stepped out from behind Arianna and waved. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were an illogical sight.
“We’re just dropping by to say hello,” Arianna said. “Can we come