Public Secrets

“We’ll let you get some sleep.”

“K ESSELRING .” IT WAS noon when McCarthy found Michael in the hospital lounge. “Jesus, did you move in here?”
“Coffee?”
“Not if it’ll make me look like you.” He tossed Michael a bag. “Fresh clothes and shaving stuff. I fed your dog.”
“Thanks.”
McCarthy changed his mind about the coffee, grumbling about the packaged cream. For the most part, he enjoyed giving his partner grief. At the moment, he thought old Mike had all he could handle. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s in a lot of pain.”
“Dwier wants a statement.” McCarthy referred to the acting captain with a sneer in his voice.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“He knows you’re…friends with the victim. He wants me to get it.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Michael repeated, dumping sugar in the coffee for energy more than taste. He’d stopped tasting it hours before. “Did you bring a stenographer?”
“Yeah. He’s waiting.”
“I’ll see if Emma’s ready.” He chugged the coffee like medicine, then tossed the cup away. “How about the press?”
“They want something by two.”
Michael checked his watch, then went to change. Fifteen minutes later, he went into her room. P.M. was with her now. Like the rest of them he looked a little worse for wear. Shocked, travel rumpled, and heavy eyed. But he’d made Emma smile.
“P.M.’s going to be a daddy,” Emma said.
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” It was awkward, standing beside the bed, trying to think of the right things to say. The things not to say. Stevie had flown over from London with him, and they’d seen the paper at an airport newsstand. They’d barely known what to say to each other, much less what to say to Emma. “I’ll be on my way.” He kissed her, then paused and kissed her again. “We’ll be back around tonight.”
“Thanks for the flowers.” She lifted a hand to the violas on her tray. “They’re lovely.”
“Well…” Heartsick, he stood for a moment, then left them alone.
“It’s uncomfortable for him,” Emma murmured. “For all of them.” Her fingers worked restlessly at the bedsheets, then moved to brush at Charlie. “It’s hard to see their eyes when they first walk in. I suppose I look pretty bad.”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you fish for a compliment.” He sat beside her. “People have been going in and out of here most of the day. You haven’t gotten much rest.”
“I don’t really want to be alone. You stayed with me all night.” She held out a hand. “I heard you talking to me and I knew I was still alive. I wanted to thank you for that.”
“I love you, Emma.” He dropped his forehead on their joined hands. There was no response from her as he fought to pull his raw emotions back in line. “Wrong time, wrong place.” With a sigh, he rose and paced the room. “I guess you’re going to have to think about it since I said it. Anyway, if you’re feeling up to it, we’d like to get your statement.”

She watched him roam restlessly around the room. There was nothing she could say, not now when she could barely feel. If things had been different…She wondered, if things had been different, if she would have reached out, if she could have trusted enough. But things weren’t different.
“Who do I have to talk to?”
“You can talk to me.” The control was back when he turned to her. “Or I can get a female officer if you’d be more comfortable.”
“No.” Her restless fingers began to pluck at the violas. “No, I can talk to you.”
“There’s a stenographer waiting.”
“All right. We can do it now. I’d like to get it over with.”
It wasn’t easy. Somehow she’d thought it would be, with her emotions so deadened. But there were enough left, just enough to bring on the shame. She didn’t look at him as she spoke. As time dragged on she told him everything. She hoped that by talking about all the fears, the shames and humiliations, she would be purged of them. But when it was done, she only felt tired.
Michael dismissed the steno with a nod. He couldn’t speak, didn’t dare.
“Is that all you need?” Emma asked.
He nodded again. He needed to get out. “We’ll have it typed up. You can read it over when you’re feeling up to it, and sign it. I’ll check back later.”
He swung out of the room and started for the elevators. McCarthy stopped him. “Dwier wants you back at the station ASAP. The press is foaming at the mouth.”
“Fuck