Chapter 8: The Garage

Gerald's security took the microphone and the stage went dark.

Audrey grabbed my elbow and I grabbed Nicholas's sleeve, and the three of us went down the side steps into the crowd.

Reporters ran after us shouting questions.

Audrey steered us through a service door and down a ramp into the parking garage under the plaza.

The door clanged shut behind us, and the shouting stopped.

The garage was cold and empty, and our footsteps echoed on the concrete.

Nicholas stopped walking.

He still had the envelope in his hand, held out in front of him.

"He knew," he said. "He knew about the letter. He stood up there and told the whole city I should have opened it."

"Don't open it here."

"Why not?"

"Because he wants you to."

Nicholas looked at the envelope for a long moment.

Then he turned and drove his right fist into the concrete pillar beside him.

The sound was awful.

"Nicholas!"

He bent over with his hand against his chest and swore.

Blood ran from his knuckles onto the floor.

"Audrey," I said. "The first aid kit in the car."

"I'll get it."

She was already walking, with her phone out and her heels clicking, and she glanced back once and decided to give us a minute.

I took his hand.

I did not think about it.

I took the scarf from around my neck, the blue silk one my mother had left me, and I wrapped it around his knuckles.

His skin was hot.

I pressed the silk down, and a red patch bloomed through it.

"You'll want a doctor for that."

"It's fine."

"It isn't fine. You've split two of them."

I kept my fingers closed around his wrist to hold the cloth in place.

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