Epilogue

There was no way to see in the window at Kinkead’s, just a couple blocks from the White House. Watching snowflakes melt as they hit the restaurant’s fogged-up bay window, Hannibal spared himself a smile, thinking of the conversation he had on his cell phone while sitting in the emergency room.

“It’s your own fault for being in the office so late, Mrs. Abrogast,” he had said. “I’ve already tried her home phone and her BlackBerry. And I’ve got a feeling you know where she is.”

“She left late, Mr. Jones. I believe she had an appointment.”

“And that would be where?”

“I don’t have her appointment book handy.”

“Come on, Mrs. A. You keep it all in your head anyway.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t tell you. Maybe if you hadn’t stood her up for lunch…”

“Look, Mrs. A,” Hannibal said through clenched teeth. “I have had a really shitty day.”

“Excuse me, young man?”

“I haven’t eaten since breakfast, I have huge bruises on my throat from where a guy tried to strangle me, and I’m sitting here watching some guy from Pakistan stitch up a bullet hole in my right arm. The jacket’s ruined too. I just need to talk to her, all right?”

There was a long, hard pause. He heard a deeply drawn breath. He was through. If she didn’t talk she wouldn’t, but he would not ask again.

“She’s meeting him for a late supper,” Mrs. Abrogast said.

“Terrific. Where?”

And that was what brought him to Kinkead’s. He ignored the maitre d’s questions and glanced only briefly at the stairs. No, she wouldn’t want to go up to the formal dining area. She would prefer the more casual feel of the street-level café and bar. He brushed past the man telling him how long the wait was. He brushed past the congressional staffers and lobbyists who crowded the tables, talking shop and making deals. Their conversation, and the lady churning out predictable jazz on the piano, made it unlikely anyone would hear him approach. No one even looked up until he was standing beside the table.

Reggie Johnson sat to his left. Cindy sat on his right. Both looked perplexed when they noticed him. Cindy opened her mouth to say something he was sure he didn’t want to hear, so he focused on the man.

“Blow,” Hannibal said, nodding his head toward the door. “We need a little privacy.”

“Hannibal, what the hell?” Cindy said. He had been right. He didn’t want to hear that.

Reggie stared for a second, his brows knit together in confusion.

“You got a hearing problem?” Hannibal said, just a little louder. “Hit the bricks, bud.”

The two men locked eyes. Reggie stood, very slowly, to his full height and looked down into Hannibal’s face. Hannibal never flinched.

“You don’t want none of this, son. Don’t make the mistake of deciding to fuck with me. Not now. Not today.”

“Reggie,” Cindy said. “Please. It’s all right. We do need to…to talk. Let me call you, OK?”

Was it the consoling tone in Cindy’s voice? Did he see something behind Hannibal’s dark lenses that he didn’t want to disturb? Did he notice the bullet hole in the right sleeve of Hannibal’s mud-encrusted suit coat, just above the elbow? Did he guess the significance of the twin bruises on Hannibal’s throat? Whatever the reason, Reggie Johnson turned his face to Cindy, said “Another time,” and walked out of the restaurant. Hannibal let out a long breath and sat in the chair Reggie just emptied. He folded his hands on the table between him and his woman.

“That was rude…”

“Damn straight,” Cindy said.

“… but I couldn’t be away from you another minute.” Then he pulled his glasses off and laid them on the table. Cindy looked closely at his eyes, then looked around the rest of him. He knew his hair was dirty and his jacket was caked with dried mud. He saw her eyes linger on the bullet hole and with the jacket pressed against his arm he knew she could see the white bandage beneath.

Hannibal closed his eyes. He wanted to tell her how much he had missed her in the last week. He wanted to tell her why he had been away. He wanted to ask her what there really was between her and the man who had just left. He wanted to tell her how much he needed her. He wanted to believe she could see all of that in his eyes.

Cindy leaned close, almost as if she was reading his fine print.

“You hurting, baby?”

He nodded. His mouth opened but nothing came out.

“You need some healing,” she said. He nodded again. His lips curled in to his teeth. She took his hands and stood up.

“Come on. Let’s go to your place so I can get started.”

The End