The Night Listener : A Novel

not? She’s heartsick about this, Ashe. And it’s not that threatening. It’s just another phone call, really, when you get right down to it.”
    Another long silence, but this one was imposing, a huge green wall curling above me. “A phone call?”
    “Sure. It’s radio, remember.”
    “You mean you wouldn’t go out to Wisconsin?”
    “Well, no. The idea was not to be invasive, and this seems like the perfect way to do that.”
    Another sigh. “That rather misses the point, doesn’t it?”
    “Well, I don’t see why it wouldn’t accomplish…”
    “It was proof we needed, Gabriel. Not an interview. That can’t have been lost on you.”
    “Look…If I’m willing to make him part of my show…to go out on a limb like that and virtually endorse him…doesn’t that take some of the ethical burden off Argus?”
    “Would that it could, my friend.”
    This reply, with its archaic wording and unctuous delivery, was so typically Findlay it infuriated me. I realized he wasn’t listening at all. He was merely biding his time until the whole nasty business was behind him.
    “This is not right,” I told him. “You can’t grant this boy a voice, then just take it away from him.”
    “I’m afraid we can, Gabriel. And must. There are too many questions still unanswered. I’m not willing to risk my reputation and the reputation of this house on a sentimental whim. There are too many risks, frankly. Too many people who know about this thing.” By which he means me, I thought. For Findlay had been perfectly willing to publish Pete’s book when he had only his own doubts to contend with. It was my doubts that had queered the deal. Without me around he might have lied or pleaded ignorance if Pete’s book—or Pete himself—had proven a hoax. Two people in the know constituted a conspiracy, and that made the whole thing too dangerous. And Findlay knew that I knew this.
    “You know,” I said quietly. “I wouldn’t say anything if it turned out that…Pete wasn’t what we thought.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Just that…you could count on me in that regard. I would never point a finger at anyone. I’d have nothing to gain by—”
    “Please, Gabriel. Don’t dishonor us both.”
    “I’m just saying—”
    “I know what you’re saying, and I know why you’re saying it. I like him, too, and I’m sure I’ll miss him terribly. And Donna as well.
    Especially Donna. She despises me now, but I know what a special person she is. I’m just as heartsick as anyone, Gabriel. Make no mistake about that.”
    Sensing finality, I scrambled for an alternate plan. “Well, then…
    okay…what if I talked to Donna again? Really laid it on the line with her. Maybe she would let me come visit if I told her—”
    “Didn’t she refuse you just last week?”
    “Well, yeah, but—”
    “And I’ve already laid it on the line with her, Gabriel. It didn’t do a bit of good.”
    “But if she knew it would save Pete’s book…”
    “Nothing will save it. That’s what I’m telling you. I’ve already met with the publisher. We’ve had a long, agonizing talk, and…we’ve come to the end. You’ve done your best, Gabriel. We both have.”
    “No, Ashe. You have not done your best. You’ve just taken the coward’s way out. And now you’ve got the nerve to try and make it acceptable. So don’t include me in this, please. You’ve deserted this child in the most heartless way, and I plan to say so. To the world, if necessary.” A long pause. “I’m sure you’ll do what you have to do.” I slammed down the phone.
    I didn’t tell anyone anything for hours. I hated the thought of setting this calamity in stone, of making my fuckup official. Again and again, I retraced my steps, looking for the place where I’d taken the wrong turn. And for a while I even shifted the blame to Donna. She had been much too stubborn, I told myself, when even the smallest amount of compromise would have allowed Pete his self-expression as well as his privacy. Then I remembered that Donna knew Pete better than anyone, what his limits were and what it would take to unleash his demons. Who was I to judge that? And what did I really know about the nature of Pete’s abuse? Hadn’t Findlay suggested darkly that there were aspects of it too ghastly to include in the book?
    Then I began to ponder the editor’s odd remark about Donna: how “special” she was to him and how much he would miss her.
    He had sounded almost like a