Silhouette

XXXVIII

Janet hugs the files to her chest as the guard at the front desk lets her through, she rushes through the throng of uniformed policemen, plain clothed detectives. They all part before her like butter giving way to a hot knife. She reckons Michael’s influence has rubbed off on her. There are several greetings thrown her way, she replies and tries to smile.

She takes the elevator, tries to stop the urge to tap her feet. It is a tell that she’s stressed. The elevator stops and she almost knocks into the man about to get in. She flashes a sorry and rushes down the hallway.

Michael’s secretary, Stella, uses the office next to his, a large matronly woman with an air of weary disinterest. Janet smiles when she sees her, she softens her voice and tries to match her posture. “Good evening, Madam. Is Michael in?”

Stella doesn’t raise her head from the mail carriage she is rifling through. “Yes, but you would have to wait for him. He is in a meeting right now.”

“Could you tell him it’s me? I’m sure he’d want to see me.”

Stella shoots Janet a sharp glance. “He is busy,” she says.

Janet sighs. She watches Stella pull out a package and go to her office. She waits a beat then darts towards Michael’s door. She pulls it open and steps in.

She hears Stella’s feet pounding behind her. Stella hisses, she says, “I didn’t tell you to go in.”

Janet sees Michael in his seat, on the other chair is an old man in a grey suit. They both look at her as she enters. Janet feels Stella’s breath on her neck. She sees the mild irritation on Michael’s face and the curiosity on the old man’s. “I’m sorry for barging in,” she says. “But this is very important.”

“It’s alright, Stella,” says Michael.

Janet moves away from the door as Stella closes it. She smells a whiff of tobacco in the air. The old man clears his throat and stands. He adjusts his tie. “It’s been great seeing you, Michael,” he says.

Michael stands, shakes the old man’s hand. “And you too. Let me see you out.”

The old man pushes back his chair, he raises his hand in protest. “No, no,” he says. “It seems like you have some urgent business to attend to.” He gives Janet a slight nod and lets himself out.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted something,” says Janet.

Michael shakes his head. He pushes his chair back, rifles through his drawer, then shuts it. He says, “Go on, sit.”

Janet sits on the chair the old man has just vacated. It’s still warm. “What I’m about to show you will make you think twice about closing the taskforce.”

Michael rubs his eyes. “We need to talk about what happened that night.”

Janet blinks. “That… that wasn’t supposed to happen. We should put that behind us.”

“No, Janet. You can’t tell me that was nothing. You can’t tell me you felt nothing.”

Janet takes in a sharp breath. She grips the file hard in her hand. She sees the look on Michael’s face. She sees the longing, the want. “No. We were both exhausted when that happened.”

Michael shakes his head, he stands. “Janet, I-”

“You are married for God’s sake, Michael,” Janet snaps. “Married with kids.”

Michael goes silent for a while. Janet hears Stella’s heels outside, a small bird taps its beak against the glass window then flies away in a buzzing of wings. Michael sits, his face is long, weary. He raises his hands and drops them as if helpless. He says, “We’re getting a divorce, Anna and I. Things haven’t worked out for quite a while now.”