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“So you remember Watergate,” he says.
Kay sighs, “Oh, for God’s sake, some of our editors and staff are still going out to lunch on that old story. You got something to add?”
“Yes,” Liam says. “When Woodward and Bernstein were working on their initial stories, talking to Mark Felt—their Deep Throat—they were once warned that their lives might be in danger. Later they realized that the warning was overwrought and over the top. Didn’t think much more of it as the story went on.”
A pause. Kay says, “And?”
“Back then it was probably a bullshit warning, that their lives were in danger,” he says. “Kay, what’s going on now and what you’re digging into … it’s not a bullshit warning. Be careful. Walk in well-lit public places. Don’t agree to meet a new source alone. Be aware, Kay.”
She doesn’t reply. Liam says, “Time for you to leave. Go straight home and lock the doors, put a chair under the doorknob, and don’t let anybody you don’t know in. All right? I’ll leave here in ten minutes.”
She says, “Liam … you’re scaring me.”
“Good,” he says.
He waits to see if she’ll say anything else, but she doesn’t, walking briskly out of the park, not looking back once.
CHAPTER 51
NOA HIMEL IS at home in her condo when the intercom rings and she answers, “Hello?”
“It’s Aldo,” says the voice coming from the speaker. “You never called me.”
She rests her head against the wall. “Aldo … it’s been a bear of a day. Sorry.”
“Can I come up?”
“Aldo …”
“Trust me, Noa, you’re going to want to see this.”
“Okay.”
She buzzes the lobby door open and goes into the kitchen, makes a gin and tonic, and when there’s a knock on the door, she gives a quick glance through the peephole—yep, there’s Aldo—opens the door, keeping the chain in place.
“You alone?” she asks.
“Suspicious?” he replied.
“After the day I’ve had … yeah. Hold on.”
She closes the door, unlocks the chain, and opens it wider, letting in Aldo. He’s wearing blue jeans, a white shirt with a button-downcollar, and blue blazer, looking like a hockey player in his first year of retirement.
He holds up a thick manila envelope. “Here it is.”
“What’s that?”
“The reality behind Donna Otterson and how she got into trouble. Long story short, Noa, the official story is so much bullshit.”
She feels both relief and fear. Her suspicions about something wrong taking place in that single woman’s apartment are coming true …
But at what price?
“Come on in,” she says, leading him to the small kitchen. It’s clean, well ordered, with pots and pans hanging from a wooden beam above an antique-looking gas stove.
Aldo says, “Impressive. My place has takeout menus and carryout boxes.”
Noa says, “Don’t be too impressed. I keep it clean for whenever my parents take the train down to visit their wayward daughter. Get you a drink?”
