REINER
I have a son.
That was the only thought I was able to formulate on the drive from Madison Square Garden to Mark's house, it went on and on in my head like a broken record, and meanwhile, in the background of my mind, images of that night went along with it. From seeing Becky and the kid on the screen to her hiding behind Wayne Baker and then leaving with the boy in her arms. She had held him so close to her chest since she had seen and recognized me, probably to keep me from seeing his face.
All that time, only one emotion had camped on her face: pure, genuine terror, which I had also smelled in her scent when I'd managed to reach out and hug her, after four endless years. Not that that move had turned out to be particularly clever, on my part.
Even the pup had been frightened.
