Blue Diary by Alice Hoffman Page A

standing there, Ethan has had a weightless feeling. It’s as though everything that has been holding him to earth has been cut away: all that remains are white bones and whatever wisps of cloth might cover him.
    A sleepless night can last an eternity, and because of this Ethan has had plenty of time to decide what to do. He has already made up his mind by the time Barney Stark sets off for the jail promptly at eight the following morning. By then, Ethan has walked to hell and back while his neighbors have been dreaming in their comfortable beds. Hours later, he’s still burning. Touch him, and you burn along with him. Touch him, and you feel his pain.
    When at last he hears someone in the hall, Ethan cranes his neck to see who’s approaching, hoping only that it’s not his wife. He will not have Jorie witness his degradation in this cell again. The mere idea is anguish to him, and he’ll do whatever he can to prevent such an occurrence or, at the very least, postpone it. Naturally, he’s relieved to find that his visitor is only Barney Stark.
    â€œHey,” Barney calls as Dave Meyers leads him to the cell. Usually, Frankie Links or one of the other guards would have this job, but today Dave has come in on his day off to ensure that Ethan will get proper treatment. Still this is always an awkward moment, men trying to act as though nothing unusual is occurring when one individual is locked up and the others are free. “I got us breakfast.” Barney rattles the paper bag he’s brought with him. He’s already stopped at Kite’s Bakery, where he picked up two coffees to go and a sack of sugar crullers, along with his favorite Danishes. Barney asked Jorie to meet him at nine because he needs a little time alone with Ethan to walk through some of the details Ethan will no doubt want to spare his wife. How much a trial can take out of you, for instance, if circumstances should come to that, and how damned expensive such an undertaking can be, particularly if investigators charging by the hour are needed to track down witnesses who, in the span of fifteen years, might have gotten to be just about anywhere.
    Barney figures something sweet might help this information go down, hence the pastries. but that’s not the only reason he stopped at the bakery. He had hoped to see Charlotte, and although he was disappointed to find she wasn’t there, he wasn’t surprised. His guess: she’s spent the night over at Jorie’s, fielding phone calls and chasing off unwanted visitors, such as himself. Anyone can tell that’s the kind of friend Charlotte Kite is, and if there was one thing Barney respected, it was loyalty. Loyalty is the reason he’s here, for his practice doesn’t run to complicated criminal cases. Ethan and Barney may not be the best of friends, but they’ve coached baseball together and their knowledge of each other is at a deep level. Each knows how the other deals with failure, and with false hope, and with the absolute and fleeting bliss of an eleven-year-old hitting a fly ball over the fence.
    Driving here, Barney had eaten one of the Danishes he’d bought at Kite’s, and he brushed the crumbs from his suit jacket as he signed in for his visit. He knows the officers on duty, he’s grown up with most of them, and he doesn’t blame them for their hang-dog expressions. It was Ethan Ford they had locked up in the holding tank, not some drunk who’d had one too many at the Safehouse and had been temporarily corralled for his own protection while he slept it off “I’m not happy about this,” Dave Meyers tells Barney as they walk down the corridor to the holding area.
    â€œNobody’s happy about this, Dave,” Barney agrees.
    When the door to the cell is unlocked, Ethan stands to greet Barney, but he’s not interested in breakfast. “Just coffee, thanks.”
    Barney shrugs and hands the bakery bag to