Harlan Coben - The Woods

I looked at Muse. "I'm lost."

"No, you're not. A man is supposed to be faithful forever, right? I know this one guy. I'm talking to him on the phone-this is before we ever met face-to-face-and he's telling me how he would never, ever cheat, how he loves his wife, blah, blah, blah. But the guy is some ugly slob who works as an assistant manager at a CVS or something-so I'm thinking to myself, 'Who is going to come on to him?' Right?"

"I'm still not following."

"It is easier to be a good, honorable guy when there is no temptation. But in cases like that, MVD would shift reality. By using me as bait."

"For what?"

"For what do you think? If a wife wanted to nail her husband for cheating, my job would be to seduce him. That's how MVD worked. The husband would be at a bar or something. They would send me out as a"-she made quote marks with her fingers-"fidelity test."

So?

"So I hate to sound immodest, but take a look." Cingle spread her arms. Even dressed down in a loose sweater, the sight was indeed impressive. "If that's not unfair entrapment, I don't know what is."

"Because you're attractive?"

"Yep."

I shrugged. "If the guy's committed, it shouldn't make a difference how attractive the woman is." Cingle Shaker made a face. "Please." "Please what?" "Are you being intentionally dense? How hard do you think it would be for me to get Mr. CVS, for example, to look in my direction?"

"To look is one thing. To do more than that is another."

Cingle looked at Muse. "Is he for real?"

Muse shrugged.

"Let me put it this way," Cingle said. "I probably ran, oh, thirty or forty of these so-called fidelity tests. Guess how many married guys turned me down?" "I have no idea."

"Two."

"Not great stats, I admit-"

"Wait, I didn't finish. The two that turned me down? Do you know why?" No.

"They caught on. They realized something had to be up. They were both like, "Wait, why would a woman who looks like this be coming on to me?' They saw the trap-that's why they didn't go through with it. Does that make them better than the other guys?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

"They didn't go through with it."

"But shouldn't the why matter? One guy might say no because he's scared he'll get caught. Does that make him any more moral than the guy who isn't scared? Maybe the guy who isn't scared loves his wife more. Maybe he’s a better husband and more committed. Maybe the other guy wants to screw around like crazy but he's so meek and timid that he can't go through with it."

"So?"

"So fear-not love, not wedding vows, not commitment-is the only thing keeping him honest. So which guy is better? Is it the act or the heart?"

"Heavy questions, Cingle."

"What's your take, Mr. Prosecutor?"

"Exactly. I'm a prosecutor. It's all about the actions."

"The actions define us?"

"In legal terms, yes."

"So the guy who is too scared to go through with it-he's clean?"

"Yep. He didn’t go through with it. The why is besides the point. No one says he has to maintain his vow out of love. Fear might be as good a reason as any."

"Wow," she said. "I disagree."

"Fair enough. But is there a point to this?"

"The point is this: MVD wants dirt. Anyway they can get it. If the current reality isn't providing any-read: if the husband isn't already cheating-they'll shift the reality-read: get someone like me to hit on the husband. Do you get it now?"

"I think so. I not only have to be careful about what I might have done, but what I look like I'm doing or appear to be doing or might get entrapped into doing."

"Bingo."

"And you have no idea who provided them with the information in that journal?"

"Not yet. But hey, you've now hired me to do counterespionage. Who knows what I'll come up with?" She stood. "Anything else I can help you with?"

"No, Cingle, I think that covers it."

"Cool. Byte way, I have my bill here for the Jenrette-Marantz case. Who should I give it to?"

Muse said, "I'll take it."

Cingle handed it to her and smiled at me. "I liked watching you in court, Cope. You nailed those sons of bitches but good." "Couldn't have done it without you," I said. "Nah. I've seen a lot of prosecutors. You're the real deal." "Thanks. I wonder, though. Based on your definition, did we, uh, engage in reality shifting?"

"No. You had me dig up honest information. No entrapment. Yes, I used my looks to extract the truth. But there's nothing wrong with that."

"I agree," I said.

"Wow. We should leave on that note then."

I laced my hands at the fingers and put them behind my head.

"MVD must miss you."

"I hear they got a new hottie. Supposedly she's very good."

"I'm sure she's not you."

"Don't count on it. Anyway, I might try to steal her from them. I could use a second hottie, and she appeals to a slightly different demo graphic."

"How's that?"

"I'm a blonde. MVD's new girl is dark skinned."

"African-American?"

"No."

And then I felt the floor underneath me give way as Cingle Shaker added, "I think she's from India."

I called Raya Singh's cell phone. Cingle Shaker was gone, but Muse had stayed behind.

Raya picked up on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Maybe you're right," I said to her.

"Mr. Copeland?"

That accent was so phony. How did I buy into it-or had part of me known all along?

"Call me Cope," I said.

"Okay, uh, Cope." The voice was warm. I heard that knowing tease. "What am I maybe right about?" "How do I know you’re not the one? How do I know you wouldn't make me deliriously happy?" Muse rolled her eyes. Then she mimed sticking her index finger down her throat and vomiting violently. I tried to make a date for tonight, but Raya would have none of it.

I didn't push it. If I pushed, she might get suspicious. We set up a time to meet in the morning.

I hung up and looked at Muse. Muse shook her head at me.

"Don't start."

"Did she really use that phrase? 'Deliriously happy?"

"I said, don't start."

She shook her head again.

I checked the clock. Eight-thirty p.m.

"I better get home," I said.

"Okay."

"How about you, Muse?"

"I got some stuff to do."

"It's late. Go home."

She ignored that. "Jenrette and Marantz," Muse said. "They are really going after you hard." "I can handle it." "I know you can. But it's amazing what parents will do to protect their children."

I was going to comment that I understood, that I had a daughter, that I would do anything to keep her safe from harm. But it sounded too patronizing.

"Nothing amazes me, Muse. You work here every day. You see what people are capable of doing."

"That's my point."

"What is?' "Jenrette and Marantz hear that you're looking to seek higher office. They figure it's a weak spot. So they go after you, do all they can to intimidate you. It was smart. Lots of guys would have caved. Your case was only half-assed anyway. They figured you'd see the information and settle."

"They thought wrong. So?"

"So do you think they're just going to give up? Do you think they'd just go after you? Or do you think there is a reason Judge Pierce wants to see you in chambers tomorrow afternoon?"

When I got home there was an e-mail from Lucy.

Remember how we used to make each other listen to certain songs? I don't know if you've heard this one, but here. I won't be forward enough to say think of me when you listen to it.

But I hope you do.

Love,

Lucy.

I downloaded the attached song. It was a fairly rare classic from Bruce Springsteen called "Back In Your Arms." I sat there at my computer and listened to it. Bruce sang about indifference and regrets, about all he's thrown away and lost and longs for again and then he achingly begs to be back in her arms again.