“Let me introduce Davis Marshall.” Jude motioned to Davis, who sat quietly beside him. “He was the person who called you, and he does write for the Courant.”
“Good for him,” Harry said in a patronizing tone.
“And not so good for you,” Jude responded.
Harry leaned back in his chair and laced his hands across his stomach. “Ah yes, this article you mentioned. I imagine that you’re trying to get him to publish your ridiculous claim about how you were set up. Seems to me like I’ve heard that one before. It’s not exactly original. Don’t you have anything better to write about at the Courant?” he said, switching his attention abruptly to Davis.
“There aren’t many stories better than this one,” Davis replied.
“You think that because you’re young. But even if you were right, you’d still have a problem—you need actual proof before you can publish a story. If you don’t know that, I’m sure your superiors at the paper will certainly inform you. And I should warn you that if you do, in fact, publish anything of the sort, I will take you to court.”
“Are you sure there’s no proof?” Jude baited him.
Harry’s head jerked around.
Jude smiled. “Are you sure that you left nothing to uncover? Are you absolutely positive that there’s nothing to back up my story?”
“There can’t be proof of something that’s not true,” Harry said for Davis’s benefit. Jude wondered if he would have bothered with the pretense if it had been only the two of them. Harry continued, “Unless you fabricated evidence.” Jude could almost see Harry’s mind racing, asking himself if there was something he had overlooked. “What is it you think you have?” Harry’s tone was derisive, but Jude was used to identifying fear beneath bravado, and he recognized it in Harry.
“Nothing,” Jude said nonchalantly.
“I knew it. I knew you were bluffing,” Harry said, triumphant in his relief.
“I didn’t finish,” Jude chided him. “I was going to say nothing … yet.”
“Bullshit. What is it you’re expecting to find? No, wait. Let me guess. You don’t want to say.”
“I don’t mind telling you,” Jude said. “You’re my proof. You’re going to admit everything.”
Harry snorted. “Is this a joke?”
“It’s no joke,” Jude told him.
“Any confession exacted under duress isn’t worth anything, you know.”
“I know.”
Harry shrugged, as if giving up. “I don’t understand. You were never particularly bright as a child, and it seems prison hasn’t helped. Why on earth would I admit to being responsible for—”
“For my whole life,” Jude said ferociously. “My whole life, you son of a bitch.”
“I don’t know what you think you—”
“I don’t think—I know.” Jude leaned forward. “I know.”
“What is it you think you know?” Harry said, trying to sound indulgent, but Jude could sense the growing fear. Jude fed off that fear. It was like that moment in a fight when he sensed his opponent’s weakness—the point at which the scales tipped in his favor and he was able to inflict the most damage.
“I know you ruined my life—I know that you’re the reason I didn’t grow up to be Michael Grady. When my father stole me, you were the one who made sure we were never found. Did my father have something on you, that you had to help him? Or did you just want us out of the way so you’d have a clear field with my mother?”
Harry rose from his chair, saying, “This is ridiculous. I think it’s time for you to leave.” Then he stood there, waiting for them to move.
Jude didn’t budge.
“Did you hear me? I want you out.” Harry pointed ineffectually at the doorway. When Jude simply sat there, Harry’s face flushed red with anger. “I’ll throw you out myself,” he said, starting around the table.
“I wouldn’t do that.” Jude’s words were soft, but the menace in them stopped Harry before he emerged from behind the desk. “Besides, it isn’t necessary. We’ll leave if that’s what you really want. But then you’ll be reading about the rest of what we discovered in the paper tomorrow. You see, we have proof enough for this story, even if we don’t for the other. Davis, you think you can get the article in for tomorrow, right?” Jude said.
“Absolutely.”
“All right, then. Let’s go.” Jude rose languidly and led the way to the door.
“Wait.” Harry stopped them with a word.
Jude paused and looked over his shoulder. “Yes?”
“Come back and sit down….”
Jude didn’t move.
“Please,” Harry added.
Jude smiled a little at that. Then he nodded and returned to his seat. Davis followed, and once they were both seated, Harry sank back into his chair as well.
“So what is it you want?” Harry asked, his voice rough.
“I told you before. I want you to admit the truth about the drug charge and my trial. If you do that, we won’t print this story.”
“But then you’ll print the other story,” Harry pointed out. “I don’t see how that’s much of a deal.”
“We wouldn’t print either story.”
“Then what’s the purpose of my admitting to anything?”
Jude looked at him. “I want you to admit it to Anna. I want you to tell my mother the truth.”
There was a small silence.
“I see,” Harry said after a moment. “And if I did this, you would agree never to print either?”
“That’s right.”
“You’ll sign a nondisclosure agreement if I draft it?”
“Yes.”
Harry chewed on his lower lip. “Before I agree to anything, I want to see evidence of this proof you have. For all I know, you could be bluffing me.”
“Of course I’ll give you evidence. First there are certain rather large checks that you made out to Cash, which just happen to coincide with every move my father made. I can get you photocopies of the transactions, if you’d like.”
“Circumstantial,” Harry said. “If that’s all you have …”
“No. We have better. You got sloppy. You called my father just before our last move. It’s on your phone records. Unfortunately I don’t have a copy on me, but if you take out your phone bill and flip back to August, nine years ago, I can show it to you.”
“How did you get all this information?”
“It doesn’t matter how I got it. The only thing that matters is that you believe I have it. Is it enough evidence for you?”
Harry hesitated, then nodded curtly.
“And what’s your decision?”
“Fine,” Harry said.
“Fine what? Fine we should go ahead with the story?”
“Fine I’ll tell her,” Harry growled. “If you sign the agreement drawn up by my lawyer.”
“I’ll sign … after,” Jude said.
“What? I’m just supposed to trust you?” Harry sounded outraged.
“It’s that or nothing. You can’t be surprised if I don’t want to trust you.”
Harry nodded again grudgingly. “All right. If you give me your word you’ll stick to the agreement.”
“I do.”
“If you screw me over …”
“You mean like you screwed me?” Jude said. “What will you do? You see, that’s the beauty of it. You can’t do anything. So you don’t really have a choice, do you? You’ll just have to pray that I have a little more integrity than you do. Isn’t that funny? You the deputy commissioner and me an ex-con.”
“It just shows I know how the world works,” Harry said. “Well, let’s get this over with.”
“We have to wait until Anna gets back,” Jude pointed out.
“I heard her car about five minutes ago,” Harry said.
Jude looked up sharply. Just knowing she was in the house made his stomach lurch. He had been dreaming of making his mother proud of him even before he knew her. The moment h
e had been waiting for was finally here.
“I’m going to call my lawyer and get him working on those documents,” Harry continued. “They’ll be ready by the time we’re done.”
By the time we’re done, Jude repeated the words in his head. Then Anna would know the truth.
Jude sat patiently while Harry made the call to his lawyer and explained what he needed, but inside Jude felt anything but calm.
Harry hung up the phone, and rising, he said, “Now, I’ll just go prepare her—”
“No,” Jude interrupted. “I don’t want you to speak to her without me there.”
“You think I’m going to go in and say, ‘What I’m about to tell you is a pack of lies’? Because you know I could say that after you left just as easily.”
“I’ve learned that it’s easier to prevent damage than to repair it.”
Harry shrugged. “If you prefer it that way. I have only one condition.”
“What is it?” Jude asked warily.
“I want you to promise that you won’t disclose the information you have about my involvement with your father.”
“I already said that we wouldn’t print it.”
“I mean to your mother. You have to give your word that you won’t tell Anna.”
Jude hesitated. If Anna knew about the circumstances around his drug conviction, that was what was important, he told himself. That would be enough. “If I agree to that, you not only need to tell her the truth, you need to convince her. If Anna doesn’t believe the story, she’ll be reading about your little cover-up in the paper tomorrow. She doesn’t believe it, all bets are off.”
“But if she believes it?”
“No one else ever knows about it. Including Anna.”
“It’s a deal,” Harry said. “So … are you ready?”
Jude took a deep breath and stood up.
Davis stood as well.
“The reporter stays here,” Harry said.
“I should be there,” Davis whispered to Jude. “I can help. I can back up your story.”
“I’m not admitting anything in front of a reporter,” Harry said. “But even if I did, how do you think your mother would feel, finding all of this out with a reporter in the room?”
Jude turned to Davis and said, “Wait for us here.”
“Hold on,” Davis called after him as Jude turned to the door.
Jude stopped, expecting another argument, but Davis stood and took off his blazer. “You can’t go in looking like that. You want to look nice for when you see her, don’t you?”
Jude looked down. He was wearing his work clothes—a pair of khaki pants, not quite clean, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. The blazer would help. Jude reached out and took the proffered jacket and slipped it on. It was a little tight across the shoulders, but it wasn’t too bad.
Davis gave him a thumbs-up.
Jude smiled. “Thanks.” Then he turned and followed Harry out of the room.
43
HARRY LED HIM down the hall and stopped in front of a closed door. He rapped lightly. “Anna? It’s me.”
Jude heard a muffled invitation to come in.
Harry opened the door just wide enough to stick his head in. Jude remained behind in the hall, but he could still hear Anna as she continued, “I would have said hello when I got in, but your door was closed, and it sounded like you had someone in with you, so I thought I wouldn’t bother you. Who was it you were meeting with?”
“Actually, I have someone with me now. He wanted to speak with you as well.”
“Who is it?”
Harry opened the door wider and motioned Jude through.
At that moment Jude wished he had let Harry speak to Anna beforehand. Then at least it would have been easier to step into that room. If Harry hadn’t been standing there holding the door open for him, he would have turned and fled. But he stepped inside, and there she was, sitting in an armchair with the newspaper spread over her lap. She put the newspaper aside, stood up, and smiled pleasantly at him. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Harry?”
She didn’t recognize him, Jude realized with a jolt.
Jude said, “It’s me.” His voice broke and he cleared his throat. “It’s Jude. I’m Jude.”
Her smile disappeared. “Jude,” she repeated. “What are you doing here?” Then she caught herself. “I mean, it’s good … you look good. How are you?”
He bunched his hands in the pockets of Davis’s blazer and said, “I’m good.”
She nodded. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
There was an awkward pause, and Jude was reminded of the fact that, though she was his mother, they were virtual strangers. In his twenty-two years he had known her less than two.
“Um …” Anna looked over to Harry for help.
“Come on, let’s sit down,” Harry suggested.
For the first time Jude took a look around. It was a beautiful room lined with bookshelves, and at the far end there were French doors that opened onto a small brick patio, the green lawn stretching beyond. In the middle of the room there was a small cluster of armchairs, and this was where they headed. They all sat down. There was another long pause.
“So, Jude,” Anna began. “It’s really good to see you—to see you’re okay. I hope you understand why I couldn’t be there when you … that I haven’t … I mean, why I haven’t been in touch.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s because I wouldn’t admit what I’d done. That’s what I’m here to talk to you about.”
“It’s not just that. In general, circumstances have made it difficult for me. There are always people waiting for me to make a wrong step. So your actions … it’s just difficult. I’m sure you see that.”
“What is it that makes it so difficult? My actions and the fact that you’re mayor?” Jude smiled. “That’s funny.”
She drew back a little in her chair, as if offended. “Funny? How can you think it’s funny? It’s awful.”
He felt like he was fifteen again and he couldn’t say anything right. “I meant funny in the sense of ironic,” he explained. “And it’s ironic because all I was trying to do—the only thing I cared about—was helping you become mayor. I wanted to make you glad I was your son. I thought that helping you win the election would do that. It’s why I agreed to go along with Harry’s plan—”
“Oh, no. Not this nonsense again,” Anna interrupted. “Surely you don’t still maintain that you were framed?”
“Yes. I do,” he replied evenly.
“Do you even realize how many times I’ve heard that line? ‘I was framed. I’m innocent.’ I’ve had that said to me hundreds—no, thousands of times. It’s the convict’s litany. And I should tell you, nothing upsets me more.” In her building agitation she abruptly stood up and paced over to the window. “It’s what’s wrong with this whole country. No one is willing to stand up and take responsibility for their actions. It’s always someone else’s fault. Everyone’s a victim.”
“Anna,” Harry tried to break in.
“No, Harry, let me finish.” She turned back to Jude. “In all my years of trying cases, I have to tell you that I don’t think there’s another case in which someone was so clearly guilty as you were. Do you think if there was even the slightest doubt in my mind, I could have gone through with that trial? You broke my heart. How dare you come here and tell me that you’re innocent? I don’t understand how you can sit right in front of me, look me in the eye, and lie to me like that. Or, after five years, have you managed to convince yourself that it’s the truth?”
“It is the truth,” Harry said quietly.
She swung around on her heel. “What?” she demanded. “What did you say?”
“It’s the truth, Anna. Jude was framed.”
“You must be joking. It’s not possible. Framed by who?”
“By himself. With my help. You’d better sit down, and I’ll explain,” Harry said.
Anna did as he instructed and sank back into her chair.
“Do you remember that morning, just a couple weeks after the boy died, when I brought in the newspaper? You hadn’t seen it yet, and the incumbent mayor’s office was making allegations about a cover-up in your office?”
“Of course I remember,” she said impatiently. “It was the start of everything. It was only a couple of days later that I found out what Jude had been doing.”
“Actually, I discovered it,” Harry said.
“You what? No, don’t you remember? You found out when I told you. We were in the car, driving back to the office. I had just overheard that conversation, the one where Jude made the date in the park. I was the one who told you.”
Harry shook his head. “No. That’s just what I let you think. But I had already done some digging. I found out he’d been spotted going back to his old neighborhood with the boy who died.”
Anna sat up straighter in her chair and gripped the arms as if she might fall off. “You knew he was selling drugs before I overheard that call, and you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you just said that you found out that he had been spotted with the boy going back to his old neighborhood. Obviously that was to purchase drugs.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Harry admitted. “But Jude wasn’t the one who was selling them. Jude brought the other boy so he could purchase the drugs from someone else. If Jude had been selling them, he would just have done it in his own school, as he was supposedly doing when he was arrested.”
“Supposedly? What do you mean, supposedly? I heard the call. And when he was arrested, he had the drugs with him. There was no doubt.”
“That’s what it was supposed to look like—as if there was no doubt,” Harry told her.
“What …” She took a deep breath. “What are you trying to say?”
“What Jude already told you—it was all set up, Anna. We set it up. Jude and I. When I found out Jude had been going back to his old neighborhood with the boy who died, I confronted him, and he admitted he had gone—as a sort of protection. But he was adamant that he had never, not once, bought or sold anything.”
Jude Page 25
