They had been driving for almost an hour in complete silence. Sam was so jittery that this time she couldn’t even pretend to be asleep. She was certain that Tom had started to say something several times.
They passed a sign for a full service rest stop and Tom hit his blinker.
“I need coffee,” he said.
He pulled off the ramp and into a crowded parking lot.
“You want anything?” Tom asked.
“I’ll use the bathroom,” Sam said.
They entered the building together, passing a “Liberty, New York, Welcomes You!” souvenir shop. While Sam found the bathroom, Tom stopped at a Top Hat Donuts counter and joined a long line of customers.
Tom was still on the line when Sam found him. “What’s the holdup?” she asked.
She glanced at the counter and saw the problem. There was only one employee, a teenager with a name tag reading “Jimmy.” As Jimmy moved behind the counter to fill orders, Sam noticed that he dragged his left leg while his left arm hung useless at his side.
“They could’ve given the kid some help,” Sam said.
“If they need to hire a second, then Jimmy probably wouldn’t have a job.”
The line, although moving now, was becoming increasingly restless. A few customers grumbled audibly. Jimmy must have heard them, because he started sweating.
Tom cleared his throat and said loud enough so the rest of the line would hear him, “You know how it is. People are very accommodating about disabilities—until it delays their lattes. Then all bets are off. Another proud human history moment.”
The comment shut everyone up.
By the time Tom and Sam arrived at the counter, Jimmy was shaking. “Just take a breath,” Tom said. “Ignore the assholes. You’re doing fine.”
“I heard what you said in the line. Thanks,” Jimmy said.
“I admire your courage,” Tom responded.
“You know, I see these people walk in and out of here every day. They open the door without thinking which arm they need to use. They aren’t afraid of those four front steps. People take so much for granted.”
“But hopefully you remind them.”
Jimmy poured Tom’s coffee and handed it over. “On the house, sir.”
Tom pulled out a twenty and, when Jimmy was turned away, shoved it into the tip jar.
“Can you grab us a seat?” Tom asked Sam. “I need to get something from the shop.”
Tom found Sam at a table three minutes later. He was carrying a small plastic bag from the souvenir shop. “You mind if we sit for a minute before we get back in the car?” he asked.
Sam shrugged. “You’re the one with the public health emergency,” she said coldly.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“I really don’t like to be manipulated.”
“That whole thing with Jimmy. You did that to show me what a good person you are, right?”
Tom stared at her. “For you? Really? Man, you are one self-involved human being.” He shook his head in a manner that Sam took as pitying. Tom took a small snow globe out of the plastic bag and set it on the table between them. A tiny sign inside the globe read: “Thank You for Visiting the Liberty Rest Stop, Liberty, New York.” “I pick one of these up for my son whenever I’m in a new city. He collects them.”
“The boy in the glove compartment?”
“Yeah,” Tom said.
“Cute kid.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m guessing the looks came from your wife.”
“Yes. Ex-wife. He had encephalitis when he was four. It left him with some gross motor deficits. His left arm is pretty much just for show.”
Sam felt her cheeks blush in shame. “I’m sorry.”
“It could have been a lot worse, so he was fortunate. But on the other hand, I got to explain to him why he can’t play basketball and football like his friends and probably never will. So I’m a little sensitive when it comes to disabled kids. And just for your own information, I know exactly what it is like to spend night after night in a hospital with a sick kid wondering if they will ever recover.”
“Just so you know, I’m feeling pretty small now.”
Tom nodded. “I bet. Let’s get going.”
On the way to the car, Tom kept pressing the heels of his hands to the sides of his head.
“Headache still there?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll drive.”
“I’ve imposed enough. I can do it.”
“Not looking like you do. This is self-interest. I want to make it back alive.”
Once they were settled back in the silent car and driving, Sam couldn’t escape her own self-judgment. “Does apologizing for the comment a second time make it any better?”
Tom appeared to think about that. “Don’t feel too bad. I haven’t exactly been a paragon of virtue with you.”
“So my dad was right? You are lying?”
“Not exactly.”
“Do tell, Walden.” After a few minutes of silence, Sam said, “I’m growing old here.”
“I’m just trying to think of how to begin. Do you follow politics at all?”
“Not at all.”
“How can you live in this city and not follow politics?”
“I assume all people in politics are lying to me about something.”
Tom shook his head. “Such a cynic. The truth is most people in politics are lying about something, but not everyone and not about everything.”
“Great. I feel very comforted. So assume I know nothing.”
“OK. The governor of New York is trying to be the president.”
“Yeah, that I know. He went through that whole weight-loss surgery procedure and all.”
“The governor and the mayor of New York City are not pals. My boss, the mayor, is extremely stubborn and opinionated. But she is also very loyal and, actually, one of the most honest politicians you will ever meet.”
“And I’m sure if she were a conniving, malicious liar, you would tell me.”
“Absolutely. Despite the fact that the governor and the mayor belong to the same political party, the mayor has refused to come out in support of the governor for president. She’s actually been very negative about him and what he’s not done for the city.”
“Yeah. I think I read that.”
“See? You do know. The governor will get the nomination without question, but he’s worried about losing New York in the general election polling. And there are those who believe if he cannot carry his own state, he shouldn’t lead the nation. So the governor wants a huge New York show when he gets the nomination.”
“I saw the party preparations in the park. Very lovely.”
“He will not tolerate anything that might interfere with his New York coronation. That would be hugely embarrassing in his own backyard, so to speak, and set precisely the wrong tone leading up to the general election.”
“And a rabies outbreak without an identified source sets the wrong tone.”
“Right. And the other thing that sets the wrong tone is the mayor seizing control of the situation and forcing the governor to take a backseat. At the very first sign that the mayor is vulnerable—God forbid a bunch more kids get sick, or another one of them dies, or there’s a public disturbance that attracts media attention—the governor will step in and take control and try to make the mayor look like a bumbler. If that happens, all bets are off. He’s not a subtle guy.”
“But what does the governor really have the power to do?”
“A lot. It is a health crisis. There’s precedent for this. You remember the surprise Ebola quarantine for health care workers even though they tested negative?”
“Yeah, I get it. The governor gets to look all presidential doing the white knight thing and at the same time he makes the one who didn’t endorse him look like an idiot who can’t be trusted.”
“Yep.”
“What does the CDC really say about the virus?”
Tom shrugged. “Your father was right about that. We’ve been shut out on the granular, ‘let’s sit around a table and be honest’ stuff.”
“Why?”
“Dunno.”
“That sounds like bullshit.”
“It’s not. We assume the governor’s office told them to. He wants control of the flow of information. It all goes through him. The governor is very likely the next president of the United States. No one is anxious to piss him off. They’re not about to violate the law by withholding information from me, but they’re not leaping for the phone on the first ring either.”
“So what are you going to do now?”
“Not sure. Having your father on our team would’ve helped our credibility.”
“I did try.”
“I know. And I’m sorry it was painful. Maybe I should’ve handled it differently. Just been direct with him from the start. I’m not good with father chats that don’t take place through Plexiglas.”
“How’s that?”
“My dad. You know who that is, right?”
Sam shook her head.
“Really? Walden is my mother’s maiden name. My dad’s last name was Shroeder.”
Sam thought it was familiar but couldn’t place it.
“Shroeder? You really don’t know? Ponzi scheme? Multibillion-dollar fraud? Stealing people’s pensions? Sentenced to twenty-five years in prison?”
Sam took her eyes off the road long enough to take in Tom’s features again. Now she could see the resemblance. “Holy shit,” she said. “You’re that Shroeder’s son?”
“Dear old dad. I thought you knew. It’s not like it’s a secret.”
“Except for the name change.”
“OK, so I’ve still got a little shame thing going on. That, and the death threats and hate mail started becoming a little tedious.”
“I read a New York Times Magazine story about you a few years back.”
“Ah, yes. ‘The Sins of the Father.’ Lovely piece, except for the part that suggested I’m a liar.”
Sam remembered now. His father had been convicted a decade ago. Tom had been forced to leave Harvard Business School after the trial. There was always a cloud about what the son knew, although he repeatedly protested his innocence. Tom eventually finished his degree at City College and claimed he went into government and public service to try to make up for his father’s misdeeds.
“Wow,” was all Sam could manage. “Your dad really ruined your life.”
“For a while. But I decided that my father’s choices didn’t need to be mine. I try to own my life.”
“And how’s that working for you?”
“Pretty good, I guess. Except for the headaches. But I do think it made me stronger when I needed to be there for my own son.” Tom yawned. “Anything else you want to know?”
“Actually, yeah. What’s with the two watches?”
Tom threw her that boyish grin and for some reason this time Sam didn’t find it nearly as irritating. “A birthday present from my kid. It stopped working two days after he gave it to me. I wear it because it reminds me.”
“Of him?” Sam asked.
“No. I don’t need to be reminded of that. I wear it because it reminds me of who he expects me to be.”
Sam liked that answer. Maybe he wasn’t completely full of crap. “My mother once told me that I couldn’t trust a man with two watches because he never really knows the correct time. Sound right to you, Walden?” Will you be able to tell me the correct time when I need it, Assistant Deputy Mayor Walden? Can I trust you? Sam wondered.
Silence.
“Walden?” Sam repeated.
She glanced over. Tom’s head was tilted back on the rest and his breathing was slow and deep. He had fallen asleep. Sam decided that probably was best for the both of them.
Tom finally awoke as Sam double-parked in front of the shelter.
“Crap. I’m sorry,” he said as he stretched. “That was really selfish of me.”
“No worries. It was the most pleasant time I’ve actually spent with you,” Sam replied, but her tone was more teasing than unkind.
“Did I do anything stupid in my sleep?”
“More than you’ll ever know. So what about the shelter?”
“You probably think you earned your part of the deal.”
“Yes, I do think that.”
“I guess that’s fair.”
Sam exhaled in relief. “An additional thirty days?”
“Yes. See? I’m not horrible. Just a weak-minded civil servant.”
“And they can go to Ackerman if I can’t place them?”
“Yeah, I guess. I’ll need to smooth over whatever feathers you seem to have ruffled, but I should be able to do that. I’d like to be able to give you more time, but Morgan is pushing really hard.”
Sam bristled at the name. “Morgan? What the hell does she have to do with my shelter?”
“You don’t know that either? Lady, you need to get out more. She put an above-market bid on your place and is racing to get to contract.”
“Why? What does she want with my shelter?”
“She says she wants to turn it into a lab annex. But honestly, I think it has more to do with the fact that she wants to be the one to put your lights out. She’s not very nice.”
“I noticed.” Sam switched off the engine and handed Tom the keys. After she got out, Tom slid over to the driver’s side and started the car. “Good luck with the dogs,” he said.
“You’ll let me know if there’s a problem I might need to know about?”
“If I can,” he said.
Sam knew this was only a partial answer, but it was an honest one. “OK. Thanks, Tom.”
Tom’s eyebrows lifted a bit. “Tom?”
“That is your name, isn’t it?”
Tom smiled as he drove away from the curb.