Unrevealed

antidepressants.”
    Courtney tossed Jane a sarcastic smile. “Is that right?” She turned, staring straight ahead. Jane watched as Courtney momentarily detached from the scene and then re-entered her body. “Megan started preschool last year. But it hasn’t been easy.… I’ve had so many calls from her teacher telling me that she wets the bed during naptime.” She cleared her throat. “They suggested I take her to a child psychologist to find out what was bothering her. Well, I wasn’t about to go down that rocky path. Can you imagine if her visits got out to people? And what would happen if she revealed something
she shouldn’t?” Courtney forced another tired smile, but this time it seemed harder to produce.
    Jane knocked back her water. “You didn’t need to take her to the doctor to find out why Megan was wetting the bed.” She treaded cautiously. “You already knew the answer to that one.”
    Jane caught Courtney’s reflection in the giant mirror behind the bar. She watched as Courtney’s eyes narrowed, filling with pools of rage and sorrow. “Yes. I certainly did .” Her voice was disincarnate. “But if it ever got out, Craig would find a way to spin it, wouldn’t he?”
    Jane wasn’t sure Craig could “spin” that kind of sickness. Then again, it was painfully clear to Jane that Craig Gardner, up until now, had been able to skillfully strategize his sorry ass around any number of obstacles that might impede the progress of those who weren’t initiated into the private manipulations of public relations. “I…,” Jane hesitated briefly, “I offered to help you — ”
    Courtney suddenly came back into herself. “Oh, my goodness, Jane! Do you know what I suddenly flashed on right now? I’ve been having dreams about you for so many nights.” She turned her body toward Jane. “Isn’t that odd. Why would I be having dreams about you ?”
    Jane felt the knot tighten in her gut. “I don’t know.”
    “I can’t remember all of them…but…” Courtney closed her eyes. “Yes…I do recall you standing in front of me with your hand reaching out toward me.” With her eyes still closed, she held out her hand, illustrating the pose. “And what was it you were saying in the dream to me? Oh, it’s right there on the tip of my mind’s eye; why can’t I remember it?”
    Jane checked the clock on the wall. 1:50. Ten minutes to closing time. She caught the eye of the bartender, who stared
back at her with growing anxiety. Courtney opened her eyes. Jane quickly turned away from the bartender.
    “Isn’t that just the craziest thing, Jane?” Courtney nervously played with the sliver of lemon, bringing it to her lips and biting off a bit. But as she did it, the lemon slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. “Oh, butterfingers!”
    “Let me get it,” Jane insisted. She slid off the stool and reached down to pick up the lemon. Her eyes rested on Courtney’s left pant leg, which was tucked into the fur-trimmed white boots. A scarlet swath of fresh blood encircled the section of her pant leg right above the boot. Jane uneasily sat back onto the barstool. “Courtney? There’s a lot of blood on your pant leg. Are you hurt?”
    Courtney casually took a sip of her martini. “Are you sure?” she asked, never looking down. Jane nodded. “That’s odd. I don’t even feel it.” She turned to the mirror that framed the bar. “You know what? I don’t really feel anything.”
    Jane gingerly touched Courtney’s sleeve. “Did Craig do that? Is that how this night started for you?”
    An unnatural glaze washed over her countenance. “Oh, Jane. It doesn’t matter. Really, honey…it doesn’t matter…”
    Jane pressed Courtney’s sleeve to try to create a connection with her, but it was useless. “But it does matter, Courtney. Is that how it all started?”
    Courtney turned to Jane, still distant but harboring a layer of agitation. “How what started, Jane?”
    Jane stared at her. “Would you walk outside with me?”
    A suspicious glower crept across her eyes. “Why?”
    “I gotta get some air.”
    Courtney glanced down to the bar. “I’m sorry, Jane, but I can’t go with you. I have other plans.” She slid her right hand into her jacket pocket.

    Jane heard the distinct click of a handgun being cocked. Her heart pounded. “Oh, fuck. Courtney, come on. What are you doing?”
    Courtney tilted her head. An errant strand of hair fell across her cheek; she allowed it to