After the Golden Age (Golden Age 1)

“Only the ones you keep.” Like the feelings you have for me— “Why can’t you just say it out loud?”

He murmured, “Why can’t you, Celia?”

All she had to do was say it. I love you, too. But her mouth went dry and the words stuck.

His emotions were palpable. His mind expanded to take in what lay around it, and the people around him felt the impact of it. She could feel him—she wanted to run to him, throw herself at him, pull his arms around her, hold him.

Or was that what he was thinking about her?

She turned away as her tears fell, and covered her mouth to keep the sob from breaking free. Why couldn’t she just say the words?

Arthur shoved his hands in his pockets and, shoulders hunched and face returned to its imperturbable mask, left the room.

TWENTY-THREE

HOWEVER much she wanted to, she didn’t take one of her prescribed painkillers. She needed to be awake. She had work to do. It was a good excuse to distract her from Arthur. So she took a couple of plain aspirin and parked at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and her cell phone.

“I’d like to speak to the District Attorney, please.”

“I’m sorry, he’s in a meeting right now, I can take your number and—”

“Tell him it’s Celia West.”

The woman paused; the click and rustle of office background noise sounded over the line. Then, “Could you hold for a moment?”

As Celia had hoped, her name did hold some weight … although what kind of weight remained to be seen, especially now. After the bus incident she’d hoped to have some currency to cash in.

The receptionist came back on the line. “I’m transferring you to his office now.”

“Thank you,” Celia said, suppressing a sigh of relief.

He came on the line and didn’t bother with a greeting. “Celia. You left the hospital before I could check in with you. You’re okay? I mean, clearly you’re okay.”

“A concussion, some cuts and bruises. I’m okay.”

“You’re a hero, you know.”

She might go so far as to claim to be a good citizen. “Does that mean I can ask for a favor?”

Bronson’s tone became more guarded. He should have known she had a reason for calling. “That depends on the favor. What do you need?”

Deep breath, and plow on through like this wasn’t odd. “I need access to the Department of Vital Statistic’s sealed records.”

“Why?”

Here she was, thinking this would be easy. “I’m following up a lead on the Sito case. I’ve got some of that asset information you were looking for.”

“Smith and Kurchanski gave you your job back, then?”

She was still waiting for that phone call. “Actually, I’m thinking of going into business for myself.”

“You’ve been doing this on your own time, probably throwing my name around like you’re still on the case.”

“I haven’t done anything illegal.” Yet … much …

“And you figured out where Sito’s original trust fund came from?”

Give a little to get a little. This was public record, it was just that no one had bothered digging this deep for it before. “It came from a disability settlement he got from West Corp, which he was working for at the time. I didn’t need a warrant to get those records. I just asked my dad.”