Hard News

the zoo.”
    “That’s what your mommy said?”
    “Uh-huh. I want juice!”
    “Did she say how long she’d be gone?”
    Courtney frowned for a moment then extended her arms as wide as they’d go. She said, “Long, long time.”
    Rune picked up the stuffed rabbit. Oh, shit.
    Courtney stuck her lower lip out threateningly and said, “Juice.”
    SAM HEALY WAS IN HIS LATE THIRTIES, OVER SIX FEET tall and lean. His thinning hair was combed straight back and his moustache drooped over the corners of his mouth. He resembled a cowboy, at least when he was wearing what he now wore—a plaid shirt, jeans and black boots. His profession: a detective with the NYPD Bomb Squad.
    They sat in Rune’s houseboat, where he spent an occasional night, and she leaned forward, listening to him as intensely as if he were telling a rookie how to dismantle a C-4 demolition charge. She asked, “How often should I feed her?”
    Healy said, “You’re too nervous about this, Rune. Three times a day’ll work fine.”
    “How about medicine?” Rune’s palms were glistening with sweat. “Should she be taking medicine?”
    “Well, is she sick?”
    “No.”
    “Then why would she need medicine?”
    Rune said, “She’s a baby. I thought you always gave medicine to babies.”
    “Not if she’s not sick.”
    Rune gazed out over the river. “Oh, Sam, it was fun playing with her and reading to her but this—this is, like, really, really serious.”
    “They’re very resilient.”
    “Oh, God. What if she falls?” she asked, panicked.
    Healy sighed. “Pick her up. Comfort her. Dust her off.”
    “I’m not ready for this, Sam. I can’t be a mother. I’m trying to do my story. I’m … Oh, God, does she wear diapers?”
    “Ask her.”
    “I can’t ask her. I’d be embarrassed.”
    “She’s what? About three? She’s probably toilet-trained. If not, you should start pretty soon.”
    “Me? No way. Forget about it.”
    “Rune, kids are wonderful. When you and Adam and I go out we have a great time.”
    “But he’s
your
son. That’s different. I don’t want one of my own. I’m too young to be a mother. My life is over with already.”
    “It’s only temporary, isn’t it?”
    “That’s the part I’m not too sure about.” Rune looked toward Courtney’s room. Her voice was panicky when she said, “You think she drinks too much juice?”
    “Rune.”
    “She drinks a lot of juice.”
    “You should worry a lot less.”
    “Sam, I can’t have a kid with me when I interview people. What am I—?”
    “I’m going to give you the name of the day-care center Cheryl and I used to take Adam to. It’s a good place. And some of the women there work nights as baby-sitters.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Look at the bright side: You didn’t have to go through labor.”
    Rune sat close to him and laid her head on his chest. “Why do I get myself into things like this?”
    “She’s a sweet little girl.”
    Rune put her arms around him. “They’re all sweet when they’re asleep. The thing is they wake up after a while.”
    He began rubbing her shoulders.
    “That’s nice.”
    “Yeah,” he said, “it is.”
    He rubbed for five minutes, his strong fingers working down her spine. She moaned. Then he untucked her T-shirt and began working his way up, under the cloth.
    “That’s nicer,” she said and rolled over on her back.
    He kissed her forehead. She kissed his mouth, feeling the tickle of the moustache. It was a sensation she’d gotten used to, one she liked a lot.
    Healy kissed her back. His hand, still inside her T-shirt, worked its way up. He disarmed bombs; he had a very smooth touch.
    “Rune!” Courtney shouted in a shrill voice.
    They both jumped.
    “Read me a story, Rune!”
    Her hands covered her face. “Jesus, Sam, what’m I going to do?”

    chapter 9    
     
    THE TRAIN UP TO HARRISON, NEW YORK, LEFT ON TIME and sailed out of the tunnel under Park Avenue, rising up on the elevated tracks like an old airplane slowly gaining altitude. Rune’s head swiveled as she watched the redbrick projects and clusters of young men on the street. No one wore colorful clothing; it was all gray and brown. A woman pushed a grocery cart filled with rags. Two men stood over the open hood of a beige sedan, hands on their wide hips, and seemed to be confirming a terminal diagnosis.
    The train sped north through Harlem and the scenes flipped past more quickly. Rune, leaning forward, climbing onto her knees, felt the