He says, "You did."
"It is done."
"It is done."
"Take me home."
"Yes."
? ? ?
Sarah Klein walks me to the elevator.
She doesn’t say anything until we are in front of the doors. Then she says, "Maeve. That was the cleanest grand jury testimony I have heard in nine years. There will be an indictment. The case will hold."
"Thank you, Sarah."
"You are going to be a witness in the trial. We are looking at probably eight to twelve months from indictment to trial date."
"I know."
"You are going to be ready."
"I know."
"Get out of this building. Go see your daughter."
"Yes."
The elevator opens. Lex is beside me. We get in. The doors close.
? ? ?
In the SUV, Lex pulls out of the federal parking garage at twelve thirty-one PM.
I am in the passenger seat. I have not put on the seat belt. I am looking at Boston through the window. The sky has cleared while I was inside. The sun is out. The harbor is to my left, gray blue in the cold light, the boats at the marina, the city I have been living in my whole life and have, this morning, finished a piece of work in.
Lex says, "Where am I taking you."
I say, "Eleni's."
"Yes."
"I want to see Nora."
"I know."
"I want to see her right now."
"I know."
He drives.
I look out the window. I do not speak again until we are at the apartment building. Lex parks. Petrov is at the lobby. He doesn’t move when he sees us; he just nods, the way Petrov nods, the small Petrov-acknowledgment that says ‘the work is done.’
Lex takes my hand.
We walk inside. We take the elevator to the fourth floor. Eleni's door is unlocked because Eleni knew we were coming. We walk in.
