White Collar - as an unofficial novel - part 2

Alicia Teagen

When Peter stepped over the threshold of his own home he felt like a burglar sneaking inside. He saw the two ladies by the dining room table.

"Hey, honey," he smiled at his wife.

"Hey, honey."

"Hey, Dana," he walked into the living room, dropping his briefcase on a chair. "How you holding up?"

Oh God, she had not even get dressed, he noted. She sat in pajamas and nightgown.

"It's hard, you know," Dana replied. "It's the not knowing that's killing me."

She appeared to be near crying.

"Any news?" El asked.

Peter bent down to pet Satchmo.

"Well, which do you want first?" he asked. "The good news or the bad news?"

It was an attempt to be normal, but Dana straightened up at once and gave him a look as if he was to blame for what had happened to her husband.

"There is bad news?"

"Not more than there has been," he assured her and sat down beside her. "He's still charged. It still looks pretty bad."

He saw El giving him a look. Gee, he could not make this right no matter what he did, could he?

"Here is good news," he switched the subject. "There are some evidence anomalies. Someone may have planted his prints on the gold."

"So you mean he really was framed?" she asked in return.

"It's possible," Peter confirmed, but could not stretch further than that. "I'm curious. Did he have drinks with anyone recently? The prints are crisp. Which would indicate a glass or a bottle. So it was probably for a beer."

Peter stared in amazement when Dana turned away and began to cry. El seemed as puzzled as he at least, but it did not make him feel less helpless.

"It's not okay, really," she sobbed.

"Yes, it is," he insisted. "This is the good-news part."

"Can I talk to you for a second?" El interrupted. "I'll be right back," she ensured Dana and they walk to the front door, out of sight from Dana and as far away as possible on the floor plan.

"What did I do?" Peter wanted to know.

"I don't know. See, she's crying."

"Yeah. I see that she's crying," he replied, frustrated and El hushed him. "I need to know if John met someone for a drink." A thought crossed his mind. "Maybe he didn't tell her. She suspects him of cheating?"

"Now I'll let you talk to her?" El asked dripping with irony.

"This is important!"

"Go upstairs," El told him. "Up. Stairs," she insisted when Peter did not move. He gave in and headed for the stairs. "Thank you."

Though Peter tried, he could not hear what they were saying. He walked back and forth in their bedroom, annoyed. Even more so when she saw Dana's clothes in on the floor instead of his.

At last, El came up the stairs.

"John had a drink with a journalist for a follow-up on an article she wrote earlier when they were in Iraq," she told him.

"Does he know her name?"

"No, but he lost his cap, too."

"A journalist who wrote about the soldiers in Iraq? Shouldn't be that hard to find," Peter figured. And if it was, John surely remembered her name. It would just take a longer time.