Cole got out of bed and picked up the slice of pizza he’d dropped. Buttery cheese and marinara remained on the white comforter, even after he grabbed a tissue and scraped up all the obvious pepperoni, sausage, and green olives. If the plate-sized colorful stain that remained were a Rorschach test, at that moment he’d have to say he was looking at the Grim Reaper holding an Uzi. “What do you make of that, Dr. Rorschach?” he said aloud.
He threw the ruined pizza slice into the small garbage can beside his door, then took out some of his frustration by crumpling up the pizza box with six untouched slices inside and cramming it into the same garbage can. The TV interview he’d just witnessed made a great appetite suppressant. He felt like throwing it all through the window, but he gritted his teeth and restrained himself. Instead, he shut off the TV and the light in the room and sat down at the small antique desk that looked out onto the Mississippi. It was dark outside and he couldn’t see much, but the few lights that dotted the riverfront parted the gloom in small cones of diffused yellow haze. He saw desolation. He heard the bleat of a train whistle and thought of the iron tracks that ran north and south, cleaving the town in two. He grew up a block east of the train tracks, and both the familiar horn and the vibration of the trains rocked him to sleep as a boy. Tonight it was noise and distraction.
He lay his head down on the desk, anger and frustration pushed aside by a toxic blend of exhaustion and despair. His investigation was sliding from a simple hot mess into the biggest shit storm in the history of the Bureau. And that was saying something. It was bad enough that he was caught in the blowback, but now Michele was being smeared.
His phone rang. He’d had the volume on high so he could hear it amid the commotion of the hectic day, and the iconic original ringtone seemed to bounce off the walls of the hotel room. He looked at the phone and considered not picking up. It said ‘Janet Wifey.’ He’d never bothered to change it. It appeared his ex-wife had kept his number, too. He picked up. “Hello?”
“Cole, I’m really sorry. I don’t know what to say,” Janet began. “I want you to know I caught up with Michele in her dressing room after our interview and I apologized. I know you’re both going through a lot right now and I just made it worse.”
“I’m told admitting you have a problem is the first step on the road to recovery,” he said, taking a large gulp of the ale to avoid saying too much.
“It’s just that Jeffers called me right before we went on the air and told me that you were being unprofessional with Michele,” she said. “I believe the precise words he used were, ‘He’s boning the reporter.”’
“The man always did have a charming way with words.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I mean it. I’m really, really sorry. I tried to keep my composure and I had it for most of the interview, but I couldn’t stop myself at the end. It didn’t help that she’s so damn beautiful and younger than me.”
“Really? I never noticed.”
“You always were a shitty liar, Cole.”
“Yeah, well, what the hell made you believe Jeffers?” he asked, his voice rising as he sat in his boxers staring out into the bleak darkness. “You really think I’m either that callous or that irresponsible?”
“No. I don’t,” she said softly. “That’s why I’m so sorry.” A moment hung between them before she said, “Oh, I wish Jeffers were here so I could break his nose again.”
The comment caught Cole unprepared and he lost the anger he’d built up. He laughed out loud. “Well, that I’d like to see. The first time you broke that beak of his was one of the highlights in my life,” he said. “You breaking Jeffers’ nose ranks above any wrestling victory I ever had and it’s right up there with the feeling I had on our wedding day.”
“That wedding day meant a lot to you, too?” she asked hopefully.
Caught off-guard again, Cole struggled for something to say. An awkward silence separated them even more than the thousand miles of highway between them.
“Michele told me that this case and going back home hit you pretty hard,” Janet said. “I always wanted to go back to Prairie with you but…”
“Why would you care if I was attracted to Michele?” Cole interrupted. “What hold do you think you have on me? I’m not much on Entertainment Tonight or the gossip rags, but even I’ve seen stories linking you with a number of A-list actors.”
“That’s mostly my publicist trying to get my name out there,” Janet said quietly.
“Mostly?”
“Yes. Mostly,” she admitted.
Cole stood up and walked over to the window. He could feel the big river’s pulse as he imagined its muddy water flowing steadily south toward the Gulf. God knew what secrets it carried with it, along with all the sediment.
“For what it’s worth, Cole, I think Michele really cares about you. And I want you to know that I think you’re a good man and that you deserve to be happy.” She hung up.