The Steel Kiss (Lincoln Rhyme 12)

"What's this?" the young blond officer asked.

"Read it. The last paragraph."

He scanned the words. "Oh."

She said, "The Gutierrez case was closed six months ago. Because Enrico Gutierrez died of a drug overdose. If you're going to lie, Ron, couldn't you at least have checked the facts?"

The phone woke him.

Humming, not ringing or trilling or playing music.

Just humming as it sat on his JCPenney bedside table. The dream helped, having kept him near waking; inside, he had dreams about being out; outside, he dreamed about his cell. So sleep was watchful, busy as water spiraling down a drain.

"Hello? Uhm, hello?"

"Yes, hi. Is this Nick?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Who's this?"

"Vito. Vittorio Gera. The restaurant."

"Oh, sure."

Nick swung his feet around, sat up. Rubbed his eyes.

"I wake you?" Gera asked again.

"Yeah, you did. But that's okay. I've gotta get up anyway."

"Ha, honest. Most people woulda said no. But you can always tell, right? They sound groggy."

"Do I sound groggy?"

"Sort of. Listen, speaking of, you know, being honest. I'll get right to it, Nick. I'm not going to sell the restaurant to you."

"You had a better offer? I can work on that. What're we talking?"

"It's not the money, Nick. I just don't want to sell to you. I'm sorry."

"The record?"

"What?"

"Me being in jail."

Gera sighed. "Yeah, the record. I know you were saying you were innocent. And, you know, I believe that. You don't seem like a crook. But still word'll get out. You know how that works. Even rumors, even they're lies. You know."

"I do, Vito. Okay. If that's the way it is. Hey, you had the balls to call me yourself. It wasn't your lawyer calling my lawyer. A lotta people would've handled it that way. Appreciate it."

"You're an okay guy, Nick. I know things'll work out for you. I got a feeling."

"Sure. Hey, Vito?"

"Yeah?"