Part 14 (1/2)

Now it was his turn to go all red. He didn't say anything for a second, like he was thinking about what to do next, and then he just shrugged. ”Sorry,” he said. ”I apologize.”

I had no idea where this was going. He wore me out, Pete Drinan, he really did. I looked up at the ceiling and noticed a fan, and while it twirled around I tried to keep focused on one of the blades and watch it spin so I could see each one individually instead of just watching them blur together. I suddenly felt so tired I thought I was going to fall over. It probably had more to do with bolting down that c.o.ke than anything else, but who's to say.

”You didn't use your phone call,” Drinan finally observed, still consulting my file.

”What?”

”There was some kid in the holding tank, you called her mother, told her to come get her?”

”Yeah?”

”Why'd you do that?”

”I don't know. It was stupid.”

”Yeah, it was stupid. Now you're stuck here until some useless PD shows up and gets your bail posted and calls your sister for you. And I got to be honest, Ms. Finn, you strike me as a lot of things, but I wouldn't put stupid on the list.”

”Is there a question in there?”

He bit back a snappy response and tossed down the file. Then he rubbed his eyes. ”Yeah, okay,” he said. ”Here's the question. Did the arresting officer ask you to step into the apartment before he arrested you?”

”Yeah, he did, I just told you he did!” I said, standing up finally. This whole situation was really making my head explode. ”I told you-I told all of you-I-”

”Relax, Tina, just relax.” He sighed. ”Sit down.” Then, ”Are you all right?”

I really wasn't. I felt exceptionally sweaty, my tongue seemed stuck to the inside of my mouth, and fireworks were erupting in my brain. ”Oh, s.h.i.+t,” I said, and keeled over.

12.

WHEN I CAME TO, I WAS LYING ON THE FLOOR OF THE INTERROGATION room. My sweater was off, and the Hispanic lady cop was waving her hands around my face in some strained attempt to stir up a breeze.

”What are you doing?” I asked, trying to shove her away. My arms didn't seem to work. ”What happened?”

”You fainted,” said Drinan's voice somewhere behind me. ”Here, can you pick your head up?” A couple of hands I couldn't see lifted my head a few inches off the linoleum and cradled it briefly before shoving something that turned out to be my sweater underneath it.

”I'm okay,” I said. I wanted to sit up, but I was afraid to try, and frankly I was still confused about what I was doing on the floor. ”I just got hot.”

”They've been working on the heat for three months, and still n.o.body knows what the problem is,” the Hispanic officer said. Up close, she was kind of pretty. Her hair was pulled back too tight, but she had crazy eyebrows that looked like some sort of unusual punctuation. She was still flapping her hands in my face, but I didn't find it so annoying now; she was so matter-of-fact and determined that the fanning seemed good-natured and odd at the same time.

”Maybe we could prop the door open,” Drinan suggested. The lady cop stood and went to prop open the door, and for a moment his hands came back and stroked my hair away from my forehead, even though my hair wasn't on my forehead. A breath of air moved across the floor. I hoped I didn't look too stupid, spread out on the floor like that.

”Could you get us a bottle of water?” he asked the lady cop. Then he leaned over so his face was in my line of vision. ”You think you can sit up if I help you?” He didn't wait for me to answer; he just put his arm under my shoulder and lifted, then stopped carefully when I was halfway up. It was a good thing he did, because the whole room started to spin again, and I almost fell over a second time. ”Hold on, hold on,” he repeated, holding on. I was really having trouble with the air.

”I'm okay,” I said. ”Seriously, I'm okay. I just drank that c.o.ke too fast.”

”Yeah, a cold can of soda, that would make anyone pa.s.s out,” he observed. We sat there for a moment, while he propped me up and I leaned against his chest, trying to breathe. ”When was the last time you had anything to eat?” he finally asked.

”Who knows,” I said.

”They give you anything when you got here?”

”You mean like carry-out?”

”Yeah, like that,” he said. ”Never mind.”

He stood me up very slowly. Then he led me into the hall and leaned me up against the wall. Eventually Officer Martinez of the Extraordinary Eyebrows delivered a plastic cup of lukewarm water, and Drinan watched as I dutifully took sips. The hall was something of a major thoroughfare as hallways go, and even at three in the morning, there was a good deal of foot traffic. Mostly it was the night-s.h.i.+ft officers taking bathroom breaks in between falling asleep at their desks. But then a detective came through with a couple of younger officers dragging some perp who'd been picked up. As they cut through, the detective nodded to Drinan.

”Hey, Pete,” he said. ”What are you doing over here?”

”Just talking to a witness,” he said.

”Out in the hallway? Some hospitality. You want to use my desk, it's free for at least twenty minutes.”

”Yeah, thanks, I might do that,” he said. ”See you, Mitch.” He looked back at me as Mitch disappeared down the hallway with his arrest. ”You feeling better? You want to sit down?”

”So this isn't your precinct, huh?” I asked.

Drinan laughed. ”Jesus,” he said, ”you don't miss a trick. How many times have you been arrested, anyway?”

”Not that many. Three.”

”Is this three or four?”

”I haven't been processed yet, so I can't tell.”

”Yeah, well, you're right, it's not my precinct. Come on, let's go. I'll buy you a burger.”

”I'm not allowed to just leave, you moron,” I said, although I didn't lean on the ”moron,” so it didn't actually sound that bad. ”I'm under arrest.”

”Thanks for explaining the rules,” he said. ”Now, could we get something to eat before you pa.s.s out a second time and we have to put you on an IV?”

He straightened up and took a step back, as if to show that although he was in charge and I was going to do what he said, he was also going to be a gentleman about it. ”There's an all-night diner around the corner on Broadway,” he said. ”It doesn't look like much, but the food is okay. Burgers, omelets, fries, that sound all right?”

”Boy,” I said. ”Who knew that fainting was so effective?”

”Yeah,” he agreed. ”You figure out how to do that on cue, the world's your oyster.” He put his hands in his pockets to make it look like he wasn't really in charge of this march, but he stayed just the tiniest bit behind me so there could be no question in anyone's mind. I was completely starving by this point, so I was less interested in my perpetual impulse to argue just for the h.e.l.l of it. I let him nudge me toward the front door of the precinct house.

”Can I have my sweater back?” I asked as we neared the front desk.

”You cold?” he asked.

”No, I just want my sweater.”

”Then why don't you let me carry it for you.” He waved to the officer manning the desk. ”Hey, Randy, how's it going? Pete Drinan, we met last year at the Mets game with Jimmy Marks and Brian Cahill, you remember? They were playing the Royals, Jimmy scored those seats off some reporter he did a favor for over at the Daily News.”

”Sure sure sure,” Randy replied. ”How's it going, Pete? What're you doing here this time of night?”