Chapter 28 #2
pizza boxes are bugged, or both. Either way, she understands this is not a private conversation.
She nods. “You’re Bo?”
He gives her a sheepish look. “Yes,” he says. He has used his nickname from back in his early precinct days, back before he
went to the FBI.
“Pizza delivery, at your service,” he says, lifting the stack of pizza boxes and giving her a little smile.
His hands are large enough to hold them all, his thumbs anchoring the top box and his pinkies the bottom one.
The other fingers hold the center box in place.
She cannot take her eyes off his hands, how strong they look, how capable they make her feel, even now, in spite of the protruding veins and age spots. They are still his hands.
His wedding ring glints in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the lobby they are standing in. She wants to toss the boxes to
the side, take his hands in her own. They could make a run for it. She doubts that Tommy would pursue them, that he would
shoot two old people as they flee.
But Sylvie stays put. She and the other women have promised to walk out together, and she will keep her end of that promise.
The smell of the pizzas wafts up between them, filling the air and reminding her of the time they went to Italy.
They look at each other for a few silent seconds, saying with their eyes what they cannot with their mouths. If the pizza
boxes are indeed bugged, then from now on the people outside will be able to hear everything that’s going on inside the post
office. More progress.
He looks past her, peering into the glass at Tommy, who stands watching them, the gun in his hand. “Everyone okay in there?”
Robert asks.
She nods, because for a moment she cannot speak. It is the kindness in his voice, the voice she knows better than her own,
that catches her up short, sparking tears. He has found a way both to be here and to let her know that he is here. She thinks
of the envelope under her stool and questions anew what she came here to do today.
“We’re okay,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper because it’s all she can manage. “Everyone okay out there?”
He looks at her, gives her a little smile. “County will be here soon, and I’m betting once they are they’ll have this in hand
pretty quick. Meanwhile, I’m trying to be of assistance. I came the minute I heard. I’m a former FBI agent,” he says. “Retired
now, but I was in law enforcement for forty years.”
Sylvie smiles at him. He misses it, she knows, the work, the respect, the purpose it brought. “I’m sure they appreciate the help,” she tells him.
“We’re all just doing what we can. We’re out there for you, working to get you free.”
She nods and—a reflex—goes to reach for him, wanting his arms around her more than all the pizza in the world. When she does,
he thinks quickly and pretends she has reached for the pizzas. He fills her arms with the warm boxes instead of himself.
Tommy uses the gun to rap on the window. Her time is up.
She sees Robert’s eyes go glassy. “You be safe in there,” he says, giving her a wink that is so fast it is barely perceptible
as he turns to exit the building, to leave her behind. She does not watch him go, turning instead toward the door that will
take her back into captivity, carrying sustenance that makes her, for the moment, a hero to the other women inside. She hears
Tommy turning the key in the lock as the door closes behind her.
“Do you know him or something?” Tommy asks, following her. “You sure did talk to him a long time.”
Sylvie busies herself with setting the boxes on the counter, one, two, three, an excuse to keep her back to them as she works
to compose herself and come up with a good lie at the same time. She carefully takes the white plastic pizza savers out and
places them to the side, scooting them just behind a large packing tape dispenser nearby. Robert hadn’t designated her because
she is old. He’d designated her because she would know what to do. She’s been a cop’s wife her entire adult life. She’s learned
a thing or two.
“He just asked about each one of us,” she says. “He wanted to make sure everyone is okay, no medical needs or anything like that.” She looks over her shoulder at the other women. “I told him we were fine, which sounds a little silly if you think about it.”
She moves her hand in the air over the pizzas like a game show hostess showing a contestant what they won. “Now, let’s eat
while it’s still hot!”
But then there is a noise at the windows, the sound like the bird that flew into Sylvie’s front window just a few weeks ago.
It is like that, but louder. Startled, everyone wheels around to see what happened, momentarily forgetting the pizzas, some
of them wondering if it was a gunshot or the police trying to come through, some sort of surprise attempt when Tommy’s guard
is down. But at the window they don’t see a bird or any officers or a bullet hole.
Instead, they see a girl, standing on the other side of the glass, banging her fists against it and yelling. Morrow blinks
at the face as her mind registers that the girl is her daughter and what she is yelling is “Mom!”
Morrow rushes to the windows, but before she can reach her, Maya is dragged away, kicking and screaming, by several officers.
She thinks about Maya as a toddler, how many times she had to drag her away from something she wanted, kicking and screaming
much the same. But this time what she wanted was her. Morrow stands and watches Maya until the police take her out of sight.
Behind her, she can hear Tommy opening the pizza boxes, unfazed by the disruption since it poses no threat to him.
Beside her, she feels a hand on her shoulder. “Your daughter?” Sylvie asks her.
Morrow’s eyes are shining with tears as she turns to her and nods. “Their attention must’ve been diverted after the pizzas
got delivered, so she saw her chance, I guess.” She looks back to the windows, scanning for a glimpse of Maya somewhere out
there. “I didn’t even know she was here.”
“I’m sure this is scary for her. You trapped in here like this. Her unable to get to you.”
Morrow only nods, unable to speak, as she thinks of the morning, the regrets that have been taunting her all day. She’d thought
she’d be the one to bridge the gap between them as soon as she could manage it. But Maya had found a way to her instead. She
must’ve also wanted to make sure they didn’t leave things the way they were.
“She’s a brave girl,” says Sylvie. Morrow nods again, smiling through her tears. “You must be very proud.”
Morrow thinks about the moment she saw her daughter for the first time, when she held the tiny, swaddled bundle of her, how
beautiful she was. Maya took her breath away. After struggling with secondary infertility, Morrow couldn’t believe she finally
had her long-awaited second child, and a little girl at that. She absolutely loved her son, but she’d become especially enamored
with her daughter once she finally had her, filling her empty arms.
“I am,” she says.
“Let’s get something to eat,” Sylvie says, gently tugging on Morrow’s elbow. “She’ll be okay until you get out of here.”
Morrow allows herself to be led away from the windows and steered toward the pizza because there is nothing she can do now.
And she is hungry. The scent of oregano and tomatoes and yeasty dough fills the enclosed space and makes her stomach growl.
She thinks being held hostage is a good enough reason to abandon her diet, just this once. For now she knows Maya is safe,
she is aware of what’s happening, and she has shown up for her. For now that is enough.