Back on the street, Mitch called Amanda on the slim chance
she’d pick up and talk to him. Maybe they should try again.
Her phone rang and rang. He thought about what would hap
pen if he went to trial. A sizable fine, no doubt. Jail time maybe.
White-collar jail, like where Martha Stewart did her time, might
not be too bad. For a couple of years? Golf club jail? He needed
a damn good lawyer to get him that. He had plenty of friends
who had been sued, and their lawyers had gotten them off. He
calculated the cost of his actions over the past few years in triage.
What started out as a financial bonanza was quickly becoming
a financial liability. Personal gain? None whatsoever. He still
hadn’t gained acceptance from his father, and now, his father
would quite possibly disown him.
“Hello?” Amanda answered her phone.
“Hey. Guess who.”
“What do you want, Mitch?”
Hearing her voice brought back memories of triage, the thrill
he got as soon as he set foot in there. He remembered the charge
he felt working on the census project. Sheldon was right; he had
crossed a line, and he knew he could never go back to playing by
the rules. This was a dangerous feeling, and he needed someone
who could understand.
“I’m wondering if you want to help me out.”
“Why?”
He could see she wasn’t going to warm up to him easily. “Meet
302
JULIE HATCH
me across the street from family planning, and make sure you’re
five hundred yards away from the hospital.”
“Like I said, why?”
“Just do it.” Click. He knew she’d be more likely to cooperate
if he played the tough guy barking orders. Cajoling and reasoning
didn’t work with Amanda. She liked it straight to the point with
no sugarcoating.
Thirty minutes later, he was waiting for her in the doorway of
a deli across from the family planning clinic. When he looked up,
he saw the back of Amanda’s head. He’d know that thin dirty
blonde ponytail anywhere. He pulled her into the doorway.
