Avery took a step toward him and gave him a peck on the cheek before she embraced him in an unexpected hug. If the pretense of the night had been different, the possibility of being invited up to her room would be on his mind. It was on his mind, if he was being honest, but he could not in good conscience sleep with a woman whom he’d met under such nefarious circumstances. Their embrace ended and they stood face to face. There was a moment when it would have been natural to kiss her, but it passed in the blink of an eye.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said. “And we’ll figure out a time to look through the file.”

“Yeah,” Avery said, nodding her head and taking a step back. “Please do.”

He watched her walk through the front door and into the lobby of the Lowell. When the elevator doors opened and she stepped inside, Walt turned and started for his hotel. As he walked the empty streets he realized that for the first time in years, a woman other than Meghan Cobb occupied the folds of his mind.

CHAPTER 34 - Manhattan, NY Friday, July 2, 2021

CHAPTER 34

Manhattan, NY Friday, July 2, 2021

THERE WAS A KNOCK ON HIS HOTEL ROOM DOOR JUST BEFORE MIDNIGHT. Sprawled across the bed, Walt used two pillows to prop himself up in a sitting position. A freshly poured glass of rum was on his lap and ESPN on the television. He had kicked off his shoes when he arrived back from dinner, and poured himself a nightcap to settle himself after his impromptu confession and the confusing scene that had taken place in front of Avery Mason’s hotel thirty minutes earlier.

The knock came again, and his mind spun. He allowed into his thoughts the absurd notion that it was Avery knocking on his door. To check on him, perhaps? He had been a bit rattled after telling her the story about Meghan, one he had shared with no one before. Many knew scattered details about the affair, but no one knew the specifics. Until now. Until he had, for some inexplicable reason, confessed them to a television journalist. The knock came a third time. How had she found him? How did she know where he was staying and what room he was in? And, most urgently, was she here simply to comfort him, or was there another reason for her presence?

Some foreign emotion stirred in his chest as Walt stood from the bed, unsteadily placed his drink on the nightstand, and took a quick look in the mirror. The hazy eyes of a man who’d had too much to drink stared back at him. He ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and walked to the door. When he pulled it open, Jim Oliver stood in the hallway.

“André Schwarzkopf,” Oliver said as he walked past Walt and into the hotel room.