Free The Three-Day Affair by Michael Kardos Page A

this isn’t his problem.”
    “He’ll know how to help us.”
    “What’s to know? We fucked up. The three of us. That’s all there is to it. We shouldn’t be drawing Evan into it.”
    “It’s not drawing him into anything,” Nolan said. “This is what he
does
. He works to get people out of bad situations.”
    “Jeffrey,” I said, “help me out here.”
    Jeffrey shrugged. “Evan’s an adult. The man can make his own decision.”
    “Not if we’re making it for him.”
    “When he gets here,” Nolan said, “he can turn right around and leave. Hell, he can call the police himself, if that’s what he wants. But why not let him size up the situation?”
    If I picked Evan up at the station, it would be another hour before we were back here, and that was assuming the traffic had lightened up by now. We shouldn’t wait that long. Waiting had gotten us into trouble. “Or we could let her go right now,” I said.
    Nolan frowned. “Go ahead, Will. Do it. Let her go.” When a couple of seconds passed and I hadn’t moved, he said, “We need to be honest with each other. If you aren’t going to set her free, then don’t threaten us. If you are, then go ahead and do it already . No one’s going to stop you.” He crossed his arms and watched me.
    I knew he was calling my bluff, but he was also giving me the chance to call his. If I went to set her free, would he let me do it,or would he try to stop me? Would he stop Marie?
How
would he stop her—to what lengths might he go? It was beginning to dawn on me that I was a little afraid of Nolan.
    I handed him my phone. “You call him.”
    Nolan took the phone from me and dialed Evan. Waited. “No, it’s Nolan,” he said. “What time does your train get in to Newfield ? Okay. Will’s going to meet you at the station. What’s that? All right. Consider it done. See you soon.”
    He tossed me back the phone. “Evan hasn’t had any dinner. He’d like a pizza.”

    I’d first met Evan through Nolan. The two of them had become fast friends and fierce opponents in Princeton’s debating society. Debating held no appeal for me, but the society had lots of money and threw lavish receptions. I’d gone with them to one—a state supreme court justice spoke about constitutional law, though what I remember most were the crab cakes and the innumerable bottles of wine—and afterward we went to a couple of dorm parties across campus. When we left the last party, it was one of those cool autumn nights that smelled of grass and distant burning leaves. A perfect night for walking hand in hand with one’s girlfriend or for cementing newly formed friendships.
    We found ourselves across the street from McCarter Theatre, one of the tallest buildings on campus, and decided it would be an awfully good idea to hurl rolls of toilet paper off the roof.
    We went into the nearby Wawa and bought enough toilet paper to serve a large family well into the future, and then we crossed the street to the theater. I remember looking up at the fire escape—a ladder leading straight up into the sky—and having second thoughts. I overcame them. We adventurers must push fear aside.
    With one arm around a pack of toilet paper and the other locked around the ladder rungs, I started to climb. It was at least ten or twelve stories to the top and slow going. I didn’t look down. Nolan and Evan stood lookout at the base of the ladder and failed miserably, because suddenly a deep voice was shouting at me to come the hell down off that ladder.
    I looked down. My friends and a uniformed campus policeman and a few other passersby were all looking up at me from below. Way below. For a moment I froze. Then I dropped the package of toilet paper and began a slow descent.
    The moment I was back on firm ground, the police officer shined his flashlight in my face and asked if I was a student.
    I told him I was.
    “Let me see your student ID,” he said.
    He shined his flashlight on it, then on my face