One Dog Night Read Free Page B

Becky’s law practice dealt with family matters—divorce, custody, adoption, etc.—but she was more than confident in her admonition for him to remain silent to all but her.
    He nodded. “Okay. For now.”
    Then they were quiet for a while, and she tried to come to terms with what was going on and where they were. But it was beyond surreal; this man that she loved, this wonderful man who would never hurt anyone, was sitting in a drab, barren room, handcuffed to a metal table.
    “We have to get you a top criminal attorney,” she said.
    “Becky, you need to face what this is. Perry Mason or Clarence Darrow couldn’t help me. They shouldn’t help me.”
    “Noah, you tell me that you did this.”
    “Yes.”
    “Then tell me why.”
    “Because I had no money, and the people that were selling me drugs refused to do so,” he said. “It was revenge. Pathetic, sick, horrifying revenge.”
    “But you have no recollection of actually setting the fire?”
    “No, but there’s plenty of things I have no recollection of in those days. The evidence was there, so I ran.”
    “Have they indicated what evidence they have?” she asked.
    He shook his head. “No.”
    She thought for a few moments, an idea forming in her mind. She knew what his reaction would be, but she decided to go ahead with it. She wasn’t going to let him go down this way.
    “I’m going to talk to Andy Carpenter.”
    He laughed, a more derisive laugh than she deserved, and he immediately regretted it. “Come on, Becky. No. There’s no way.”
    “He’s as good as they come.”
    “No one is good enough to help me,” he said.
    “You don’t know that.”
    “And why should he do it? We don’t have enough money to pay him, and what we do have is going to stay with you and Adam.”
    “Because of Hannah,” she said.
    “Becky, come on. This is a time where we need to be realistic. This is not going to have a happy ending, and you are going to have to walk away sooner or later. And the sooner you do it the better.”
    “I’m going to talk to him.”
    He couldn’t talk her out of it, but it didn’t really matter. Her conversation with Carpenter would give her a needed dose of reality, the first of many to follow.
    And at some point, he knew she would realize that nothing she said or did was going to matter.
    And then she and Adam would start a life without him.

It isn’t the best of nights at Charlie’s.
    The greatest of all sports bars is at its least great on Monday nights during the NFL season. The burgers are just as thick, the fries just as crisp, the beer just as cold, and the televisions just as plentiful and prominent, so it’s not any of that. The problem on Monday nights is the crowd.
    I come here and sit at our regular table with Pete Stanton and Vince Sanders three or four nights a week. Sometimes Laurie joins us, the only outsider that Pete and Vince, or I for that matter, would consider tolerating.
    Usually most tables are taken, primarily by regulars, but the atmosphere is low-key and reasonably quiet. The patrons are knowledgeable sports fans, there to watch the games while enjoying the food and drink.
    But on Monday nights in the fall, the place turns into a zoo, with a standing-room crowd that seems to consider it proper sports bar etiquette to scream and go nuts at every play, no matter how insignificant. There are even times that cringeworthy chants of “Defense! Defense!” erupt, as if the players in Dallas can hear them.
    Pathetic.
    Most offended by these displays is Vince. Vince is the editor of the local newspaper, a well-respected newsman with the best contacts of anybody I have ever met. He is also the most disagreeable person on the planet, and though we consider each other close friends, I have never seen him in a good mood. Were Vince to interview Osama bin Laden, within five minutes Osama would be whispering to an aide, “What’s his problem?”
    The Jets are playing the Cowboys tonight, and Pete is late in