by Jason Starr
“How are you?” she asked.
She didn’t sound angry, but maybe this was just the dawn before the storm.
Going for a preemptive strike, I said, “Look, I’m sorry. I know how angry you must be right now, and I don’t blame you. I’d be angry at me, too, if I were you. I just hope we both can put Jonah first right now, not put him through any more than we already have. How is he by the way?”
She continued to stare at me ambiguously for a while, then said, “He’s fine. He misses you.”
She was still being civil. I didn’t know why she was being civil, if it was part of a ploy, but I wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.
“I miss him, too. Where is he now?”
“In school—the sitter’s picking him up.”
“How’s he doing?”
“He likes his teacher a lot. His reading’s getting better.”
“That’s good, I knew he’d catch up. He’s a smart kid. He gets it from you.”
She didn’t seem upset, but I was still expecting her to lash out at me.
“Look, I know you hate me,” I said. “If you’re here to tell me off one last time, can you just make it quick? I’ve been through a lot lately.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you came here to yell at me,” I said, “tell me what a piece of shit I am. So let’s just get it over with.”
“I’m not angry at you, Jack.”
I let this sink in, then said, “You’re not?”
“No,” she said. “Actually I’m happy to see you.”
“You are?” I didn’t believe her.
“Yes,” she said. “You don’t owe me any apologies either.”
“But after everything I—”
“No, it was my fault,” she said. “I overreacted. Actually, I was afraid if I told you I was coming, you wouldn’t want to see me.”
“I wouldn’t want to see you?”
“I locked you out of your home,” she said. “I stopped your credit cards, had you arrested.”
“I mean, besides that?” I smiled, trying to make it into a joke, though I didn’t think there was anything really funny about any of it.
“I was hurt,” she said. “The detective was telling me about that website you were on, how you might’ve been cheating on me, but like I said … I jumped to conclusions and that was wrong. Not just for you, for Jonah. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”
It occurred to me that since I’d known Maria she hadn’t apologized to me. I didn’t think “sorry” was in her vocabulary.
“I wasn’t cheating,” I said. “I was just flirting. I mean, I’m not making any excuses for my behavior, I know what I did was wrong. But it’s not like it was a habit. It was a onetime thing, I got sucked in, I made a mistake. I don’t know if you heard, but I’ll probably be getting out of here with no charges filed. I want to go into therapy, into counseling, do whatever it takes to figure myself out.”
“I know you’re getting out,” she said, “and I want to help you.”
“What?” I’d heard her; I just wanted to hear it again.
“I want to help you.” She took a few steps toward me and stopped. “I mean, I won’t say I’m totally past this, because I’m not, but you’re still my son’s father, and I want to give you the benefit of the doubt. I talked to my cousin Michael, and he put me in touch with a great criminal lawyer. It’s ridiculous that you’re using that Legal Aid guy.”
“He’s done a good job for me so far.”
“Then you have to quit when you’re ahead. You’re going to use Michael’s contact and you’ll get everything taken care of. If they don’t charge you with anything and try to keep you here, we’ll fight it. Michael says they can’t keep you here involuntarily. Have you talked to the police yet since you’ve been here?”
“Since I was admitted here?” I said. “No.”
“That’s good,” she said. “You don’t want to say anything without a great lawyer representing you.”
“Why are you doing all of this for me?” I asked.
She seemed confused. “What do you mean?”
“Being so nice,” I said. “I mean, I did a horrible thing to you and Jonah. I caused all of this.”
“No,” she said. “You didn’t.” She came over and held my hand. “I know we’ve had problems over the years, but I didn’t want any of this to happen to you, and you definitely don’t deserve it. I just panicked when Detective Barasco told me you were on that website. I assumed the worst, but what woman wouldn’t? But I know you, Jack. I know you’re not a bad person, and I know you’re a great father. We’ll need more openness in our marriage and more honesty going forward, that’s for sure. I know I’ve been opposed to counseling, but that’s probably a good idea, too.” Her eyes looked glassy. “I want you back, Jack. We want you back.”
While everything she’d told me sounded genuine, somehow I still didn’t trust it. I thought I’d lost her forever.
She moved closer. I thought she might kiss me, but instead she pulled back and said, “We’ll talk more … later.”
I watched her leave.
* * *
A couple of hours later, a woman, about fifty years old, with short curly brown hair, in a conservative, uncomfortable-looking navy wool dress, entered and said, “Mr. Harper?”
“Yes,” I said, “who’re—”
“Rachel Goldman. I’m a criminal attorney. Michael Brant suggested I meet with you.”
“Oh, right,” I said. “Thanks for coming down, but I don’t think this is necessary. I have a lawyer.”
“It’s a big mistake to use a Legal Aid attorney for a case like this,” Rachel said. “One slipup and you’ll wind up in jail, maybe for the rest of your life.”
Realizing she could be right, that I should probably quit while I was ahead with Freemont, I said, “Well, I’m willing to hear what you have to say.”
She pulled up a chair and asked me to explain everything that had happened since I’d met Sophie Ward online. At times, she interrupted me to clarify something, then had me continue. Although she was humorless and didn’t have as much personality as Freemont, she did seem much more experienced.
When I started telling her about what had happened at the house in White Plains, she interrupted with, “Did Lawrence Ward tell you anything about his wife’s murder?”
“You mean did he confess?” I asked.
She nodded.
“No,” I said. “I mean, not really. He said, ‘You don’t know what you’re dealing with.’ Is that a confession?”
“Is that all he said?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
“Actually I have the whole thing recorded.”
“You do?” She seemed surprised.
“Yeah,” I said. “I was hoping to get a confession, but I didn’t.”
“That’s great,” she said. “I’ll have to listen to the recording. In the meantime, it would be a good idea to not mention anything specific about what you discussed, so there are no contradictions.”
“Got it,” I said.
“If you’d like to work with me, you’ll need to inform your current attorney that you no longer require his services.”
Using Rachel’s phone, I called Freemont and explained the situation. He didn’t exactly sound crushed.
“Makes sense, man,” he said. “If I were you I’d do the same thing. Good luck with everything, I mean that.”
A few minutes later, Barasco arrived.
“Hey, Rachel,” he said.
“Nick,” Rachel said.
“You two know each other?” I asked.
“We’ve crossed paths,” Barasco said. “So, out of curiosity, how are you affording her services?”
“My client won’t answer that question,” Rachel said.
“Protecting his boundaries already.” Barasco said to me, “Looks like you’re already getting your money’s worth.”
Barasco questi
oned me about my whereabouts on the day that Anthony and Lawrence were killed. He sounded straightforward, not antagonistic like in previous questionings. I explained that I took a cab to White Plains and what had happened between Ward and me.
“You knew there was a warrant for your arrest when you went to White Plains,” Barasco said. “Is that correct?”
“No, I didn’t know,” I said, “and I wasn’t planning to run away. I just wanted to clear my name, see my son again.”
“And what transpired at the house?”
Rachel interrupted with, “Mr. Harper has a recording of the incident that I haven’t reviewed yet.”
“A recording?” Barasco looked at me.
“I was hoping to get a confession from him,” I said.
“I’d like to hear that recording, too,” Barasco said, “but as you know we have security footage of the incident. We know he came after you with a knife and you killed him trying to defend yourself.”
“That’s true,” I said
“So why didn’t you stick around for the cops to get there?”
I glanced at Rachel who nodded, indicating it was okay for me to answer.
“I panicked,” I said. “After what had happened in New York, I thought I’d get blamed for the murder, just because I was there.”
“Understandable,” he said. “What happened next?”
I described how I’d taken a train back to the city, but left out that I got drunk. But I knew I’d be talking a lot about that at my next A.A. meeting.
I also didn’t tell him about meeting Rob McEvoy. He didn’t bring it up, so he didn’t seem to know, or care, about it.
“What about the subway?” he asked. “Were you planning to jump in front of that train?”
I was sick of the stress of not telling the truth.
“Yes,” I said.
“How come?”
“Because I’d lost everything,” I said. “I didn’t think I had any reason to live.”
“Do you feel that way now?”
Thinking about how, if this all went well, I’d be able to see Jonah again very soon, I said, “No. No I don’t. I want to live. I don’t feel suicidal at all anymore.”
He had several more questions about what I’d seen at the house in White Plains, and I gave him honest answers. It was so much easier to be honest than to come up with lies.
“We still need to hear the audio of what had transpired in the house in White Plains,” he said, “and you’re still not off the hook for Sophie Ward’s murder.”
“Is there any additional evidence connecting my client to Sophie Ward’s murder?” Rachel asked.
“Not at the moment, no,” Barasco admitted.
“You’ll let us know if that situation changes,” Rachel said.
I liked this woman.
Barasco left.
I emailed Rachel the audio file, then she left, too.
About a half hour later, Rachel returned, holding a Ziploc. “Good news, you’re being discharged. Here are your possessions.”
I realized that the Ziploc contained my wallet, phone, keys, and loose change.
“I listened to the recording and played it for Barasco. He seems satisfied. He still can’t prove that Lawrence Ward murdered his wife, but he had no plans to charge you for that murder either.”
Rachel and I walked along the corridor together, toward the elevators. Leaving Bellevue, after I’d been prepared to be institutionalized for maybe the rest of my life, felt surreal.
I spotted Dr. Lindsay leaving an office. She sort of smiled and raised her hand, a little wave goodbye, like I was a classmate on the last day of school.
Have a great summer, Jack. See you in the fall!
“This isn’t school,” I said.
“What’s that?” Rachel asked.
I didn’t realize I’d spoken out loud.
“Nothing,” I said.
We got on an elevator.
When the doors opened in the lobby, I saw Maria.
Although she was smiling and seemed sincere, it was hard to fully trust her. Was this just a game for her? Was she trying to get payback? Was she just trying to hoover me back into the marriage, just to dump me in some humiliating way? Well, I’d find out soon enough.
I went over to her and didn’t say anything.
We left Bellevue together.
CHAPTER TWENTY
IN THE CAB, we exchanged some small talk, mostly about Jonah. Otherwise, we were silent.
When we approached our apartment building, Maria asked, “Do you have your cash card?”
I was about to remind her that the card didn’t work.
“I reactivated it,” she said.
I paid, then we headed into the building.
I could tell that Robert was uncomfortable seeing me, after how he’d treated me the last time, but I was in too good a mood to hold a grudge.
“Robert,” I said. “How’ve you been?”
“Fine.” He sounded relieved. “How about you?”
“Feels great to be home,” I said.
Before we’d left Bellevue, Maria had told me that Jonah was home with Carly, the sixteen-year-old babysitter we sometimes used who lived in the building with her parents. My pulse was pounding in anticipation of seeing him.
At the door, I dug into my pocket for my keys.
“Those still won’t work,” Maria said. “But I’ll get you a new set right away.”
When Maria began to turn the key in the lock, I heard Jonah say, “Is it Daddy? Is it really Daddy?”
It reminded me of the times he was three or four years old and, if he hadn’t seen me all day, he’d run to me and jump into my arms and I’d pick him up and hug him.
The door opened and he shouted, “Daddy, Daddy!” and he ran toward me.
I lifted him up—it wasn’t as easy as when he was a toddler, but I barely noticed. I lifted him up so high his head almost reached the ceiling as he laughed with pure joy.
I noticed that Maria had turned away and seemed to be wiping tears from her eyes.
“He’s been so excited all night,” Carly said.
“You’ve been excited, huh?” I said, looking up at Jonah, at his round, still baby-like face.
“Yes,” he said. “I missed you so much, Daddy.”
Tears gushing, I said, “Well, I missed you, too, kiddo. So, so much.”
* * *
Carly returned to her apartment, and I hung out with Jonah in his room, talking about sports and what he’d been learning in school, until it was time for him to get ready for bed. Then I kissed him goodnight and I went to our bedroom where Maria was lying down, reading on her Kindle.
Although my clothes had been washed in the hospital, I was eager to put on my actual clothes.
I opened the dresser drawer where my tee shirts usually were, but saw my jeans there instead.
“Oh, I put your stuff back into your drawers today,” Maria said. “I’m not sure if it’s all where it’s supposed to go.”
“Back?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’d moved your stuff into suitcases and boxes.” She sounded ashamed. “I’m sorry, Jack. I was just so hurt. I mean when I found out you were actually there, at the townhouse, that you lied to me, I—”
“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s all over now. I’m back home, where I belong. I’m gonna shower.”
There’s nothing like your home shower, especially after you’ve been showering at Bellevue for a couple of days.
Later, I entered the bedroom with a towel around my waist. Maria, in panties and a baggy tee shirt, was lying in bed on her back, staring at the ceiling.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She didn’t answer, so I didn’t push it. When she was ready to talk, she’d talk.
I let the towel fall to the floor. When I got into bed, Maria still hadn’t budged.
Then she said, “Can you really forgive me?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said.
; “I treated you awfully,” she said. “I was just so hurt, felt so betrayed, but I know it’s no excuse for doing what I did to you—locking you out of the apartment, lying to the police. I know I’m being melodramatic now, but when Barasco told me what you’d done, it felt like the worst pain possible. My behavior, though, is inexcusable, and I need to take some responsibility. Does this make any sense?”
“It makes total sense.” She looked like she wanted to kiss me. Instead, she said, “I forgot to ask you one thing.”
“What?” I said.
“The other day, two hundred thousand dollars arrived in our bank account,” she said. “Do you have any idea how it got there?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND dollars?” I said, though I’d heard her.
“Yes,” Maria said. “From a Citibank account.”
I’d planned to check my bank account when I got my cell phone back, but I’d been so excited to see Maria and be home with my family again that I’d forgotten. I hadn’t even checked my texts and emails.
“Wow, it’s really there,” I said. “Rob really did it.”
“Oh, so then you know about it,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said, “but I can explain why—”
“I didn’t want to bring it up right away,” she said. “I mean, I thought I’d let you mention it first. At first, I thought it might’ve been for the apartment you’d mentioned, maybe commission? But that didn’t make sense, because why would he direct deposit commission money into our personal account?”
Now that I was back, and she’d forgiven me, I wanted things to be different. I wanted to be honest, no matter what the consequences. Maybe she’d be horrified by what I’d done, judge me for it, but I’d been lying to her, and to myself, for way too long and what had it gotten me except pain and torment?
“I blackmailed him,” I said.
I braced myself for the fallout, whatever it entailed. I figured she’d lose it—scream, curse, cause a scene. Well, that’s what would’ve happened a couple of weeks ago if I’d told Maria news that upset her. Jonah would wake up terrified, and Maria, or a neighbor, would call the police. Then Maria would throw me out again, block me from my bank accounts, start a custody battle.
What I didn’t expect was for her to remain as calm as a psychotherapist and ask, “Why, Jack?”
