Free Hard News by Jeffery Deaver Page A

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?”
    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, 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 lurch as the wheels danced sideways like a bullfighter’s hips and they crossed the Harlem River Bridge. She waved to passengers on a Dayliner tour boat as they looked up at the bridge. No one noticed her.
    Then they were in the Bronx - passing plumbing supply houses and lumberyards and, in the distance, abandoned apartments and warehouses. Daylight showed through the upper-story windows. You wake up in the morning and you think . . . Rune tried to doze. But she kept seeing the tape of Bogg’s face, broken into