by Margot Hunt
“You should have called me when you were arrested,” I commented. “I would have represented you at your bond hearing. Although, obviously, it’s hard to get bonds for parole violations.”
He shrugged. “That might have been somewhat of a conflict of interest.”
I looked at him sharply, but he just continued smiling his crocodile smile. A tremor of fear ran through me. I glanced over at the priest and prisoner sitting at the other table, but they were deep in conversation and not paying attention to us.
“Unfortunately, our motion for early termination of your parole is now pretty much dead in the water.”
I was aiming for a tone of brisk efficiency, even though I was unnerved by Rio’s self-possession. People reacted differently to being in jail. Most were upset, some were frightened, some were despondent, a few were just incredibly bored. But I didn’t often see the sort of amusement flickering in Rio’s startling different-colored eyes.
“I’m not too worried about that,” Rio supplied.
Rio leaned back in his plastic chair, his legs sprawled in front of him, and lazily scratched his stomach. I was unnerved by this sudden change in his demeanor. Whenever I’d seen him in the past, he’d been polite and deferential. He’d even called me ma’am.
“I can talk to the State’s Attorney assigned to your case,” I offered. “I’ll try to convince her that this was a onetime slipup in your recovery. We do have that recommendation letter from your parole officer. That will count for something.”
This was all a complete lie. The State’s Attorney handling the case was Felicia Dibble. She had been pissed off when the original case against Rio—the one with the poor recording of the drug deal—had gone sideways. She’d told me at the time that she believed justice had been thwarted—thwarted was the exact word she used, as though we were in a superhero movie where she was playing the role of the adorable yet plucky district attorney love interest. That she looked forward to the day she’d put Rio behind bars for a substantial period of time. A parole violation was the closest to a sure thing as it got for a prosecutor. Felicia probably wouldn’t even take my phone call, unless it was to gloat over her imminent victory.
“I guess it’s a good thing I have a backup plan.”
I straightened in my seat, looked at Rio levelly. “And what, exactly, is that?”
“You know how they’re always offering up those confidential informant deals? I think they’ve offered me one every time I’ve been arrested.” Rio shook his head, looking amused. “I get to skate, just as long as I hook a few other fish for them first.”
“You’ve never agreed to take a confidential informant deal. You’ve always said that CIs are the lowest of the low.”
“That’s true, I did say that.” Rio nodded. “But I got to thinking, what’s the point of having high-minded ideals like that, if I’m the only one who does? Do you know how many times so-called friends have burned me? Taken me down or tried to just so they could avoid a little time?”
“Maybe you need better friends.”
Rio threw back his head and laughed so loudly, the priest at the next table glanced in his direction. “Maybe I do, at that.”
I leaned forward. “You did me a favor a few weeks ago. I owe you one. I’ll represent you on this VOP and the new possession charges for free.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”
“You’d rather go with the public defender? You know they won’t come by here to see you for weeks. And then they’ll lean on you to take a shit offer, just to get your case off their desk.”
“Nah, I think my case will interest them. A lot, actually.”
“Why would you think that?” I asked, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.
Rio leaned forward and tapped on the table with the three middle fingers of his hand. “I have some information that the police would very much like to have. I happen to know a woman, a respectable attorney at that, who hired me to buy her some drugs. See, I think the police will be interested in hearing about that. They go to all that trouble setting up the tweakers and lowlifes with CIs. What do you think they’d do to score a bigger prize? Especially a criminal defense attorney who is always fucking up their cases.” Rio let out a whistle.
I thought about all the times over the years that I’d cross-examined police officers at various trials. Often, the best defense strategy was to poke holes in the prosecutor’s case. To challenge how the evidence was obtained, to point out shoddy police work. I’d frequently argued that police officers were careless or even incompetent. It was just part of the job. All defense attorneys did it. I’d never really stopped to think about how the officers I’d picked apart would feel about that. But Rio was right...they probably would enjoy taking down a criminal defense attorney.
Rio grinned. “I bet they’ll be happy to cut me a really sweet deal if I agree to testify in that case.”
“They won’t believe you. You think you’re the first career criminal to make up a lie in the hope that it will get you a better deal?”
“Lie, huh?”
“It’s a pretty wild story. And hard to prove.”
“Good thing I thought ahead then, isn’t it? I took a page out of the CI handbook.”
Another tremor of fear shot through me. “Which is what?”
“I made a recording.”
My breath suddenly felt heavy in my chest. I could feel my pulse begin to skitter around. I forced myself to stay still, my hands folded on the table, and tried to breathe slowly and deeply to calm myself.
“Why would you do something like that?”
Rio chuckled. “Because I thought it was information that might come in handy at some point. Looks like I was right. And don’t go thinking that you’ll be able to find the recording,” he added. “You won’t.”
“What do you want, Rio?”
“I want a deal. I want to get out of here.”
“Then let me see what I can do to help you.” I tried to keep my voice as calm and measured as possible. “I’ll talk to the State’s Attorney. See if I can call in a favor with her.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll try it my way.”
“Rio.” I hated how desperate I sounded. “I have a family. I have a son who needs me.”
“That’s one thing you learn in jail.” Rio winked at me. “Everyone has a sad story.” He stood suddenly. The door to the guard station swung open, and the sheriff’s deputy who had escorted Rio stepped out. “Everything okay out here?”
“I’m ready to return to my pod, officer,” Rio said. He smiled down at me. “Thanks for stopping by, Counselor.”
I watched numbly as the deputy led Rio out of the conference room, then turned and stumbled toward the locked metal door that led out of the pod. I glanced over at the priest, and saw that he was smiling at me. He tipped his head down in a silent greeting or maybe even bestowing a blessing. I blinked back at him. A response was probably required, but I couldn’t begin to imagine what it was. I looked up at the guard station and raised a hand. A moment later, the doors opened with their dreadfully loud metallic clank. I stepped through into the hallway and the doors slid closed behind me.
I was suddenly struck by how truly awful the jail was. The air felt heavy with damp humidity and the stink seemed to seep into me, clinging to my clothes, my hair, my nostrils. It was hot in the summer and freezing cold in the winter. The prisoners complained of bug infestations and thin foam mattresses. Contagious infections that weren’t curbed with basic medical care. Starchy meals and intense boredom. Loneliness. Fear.
I began to walk down the hallway toward the exit, focusing on putting one foot in front of another, forcing myself not to run.
I tried not to think about just how terrible it would be if I weren’t ever allowed to leave.
Chapter 30
“So that’s it, then,” Will sai
d woodenly. “They’ll know it was us. It’s over.”
He was standing at the kitchen door that led to our back deck, staring out at the darkness. It was late, after ten. I’d waited until Charlie had gone to bed, and made sure he was asleep, before I told Will about my meeting with Rio Frey.
“The police would have to agree to listen to his story first, which won’t be as easy as Rio thinks. The sheriff’s office isn’t in the habit of taking meetings with inmates. And then the police would have to believe Rio, which also isn’t likely.”
“But you just said he recorded your meeting.”
“He said he did, and I don’t know why’d he’d lie about it. Although he is a drug addict and desperate.”
“Do you have any idea where the recording is? Did he say if it was on his phone or on his computer?”
I shook my head. I had spent the better part of the afternoon thinking about the possibility of finding and destroying the recording. “He said I wouldn’t be able to find it, and he’s probably right about that. I don’t even know where Rio was living before his arrest. At one point, he was staying one of those low-end hotels on the west side that rent rooms by the week, but I wouldn’t know which hotel, much less which room. And that’s assuming that he had the recording in his possession. He might have given it to someone else for safekeeping. How could we possibly track it down?”
“If the police hear it, they’ll know Rio bought oxycodone for you,” Will said.
“Yes. And that was the drug found in Robert’s system at the time of his death.” I bit at one of my nails, peeling away a jagged edge. It was a terrible habit that always worsened in times of stress. When I was in law school, by the end of finals, I would have bitten my nails so far down, they’d sometimes bleed. “It’s still probably not enough to build a murder case against us. Maybe I have a drug problem and wanted to buy oxycodone for personal consumption. And, don’t forget, Robert had the exact same drug in his house, so then there’s no way to prove that the drugs in his system were the ones I bought from Rio. But there’s also the fact that we refused to let the detectives talk to Charlie. And that you lied about your alibi.” I lifted one shoulder in a helpless shrug. “It will give them a reason to narrow their focus to us. If they dig enough, they may be able to find more.”
“Like the fact that you called my cell phone from the same phone Robert used to call Michelle.”
“Right. If they believe Rio, it may be enough for them to get a subpoena for our phone records.” Which were, by far, the most damning evidence against us. “And once they know what they’re looking for...who they’re looking for...they’ll start pulling any video along the route from our house to Robert’s. Traffic cameras, ATMs, that sort of thing. They’ll build a case against us. It will be a circumstantial case, but I’ve lost enough of those to know that the state doesn’t always need a murder weapon or blood splatter evidence to convict.”
“Convict. Jesus.” Will raised a hand to his face, pressing his fingers against his brow. He stood there for a few long moments, then turned toward me. “I meant what I said. If they do come after us, I’m going to take the blame.”
“No way.”
“Yes.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because if someone’s going to jail, it should be me.”
“Trust me, the women’s prison is an easier place to do time than the men’s.”
Will went pale. “Jesus Christ.” He shook his head before he straightened his shoulders. “No. Charlie needs you.”
“And he doesn’t need you?”
“Not as much as he needs you. And maybe need isn’t the right word. He counts on you. You create—” Will waved his hand in the air “—all of this. You provide the structure in his life. The house, taking him where he needs to be and your goddamn meal calendar.”
I laughed weakly and rubbed at my eyes. “I don’t know why you’re so hostile toward the meal calendar.”
“I’ll probably miss it when I’m in prison.” Will tried to smile, but couldn’t quite pull it off.
“Actually, it could be a novel defense. Two defendants, tried separately, and each comes forward at the other’s trial to take the blame for the crime. How could the jury convict either one?”
“That sounds like the kind of hypothetical they used to ask us in law school.”
“Right.” I smiled weakly. “I wish we were back in school. Life was easier when the problems were hypothetical.”
“Do you really think that could be a successful defense?” Will asked.
“No, of course not. They would assume that we were two married people who love one another and would say anything to get each other out of trouble. Then they’d convict us both.”
We stared at one another as we started to absorb the reality of the situation we found ourselves in.
Rio Frey said he had a recording of my asking him to procure drugs for me. If he could get that recording in the right hands—and I still maintained that was not definite—this could be the beginning of the end. Will and I would be arrested, put on trial and possibly imprisoned for the rest of our lives. Away from one another, and worse, away from Charlie.
Dear God, I thought as a tremor of fear passed over me. What’s going to happen to Charlie?
“I’m sorry about...well, everything,” Will said quietly. “Jaime, the affair, all of it. If I could take it back, I would.”
“Is that why you’re offering to take the blame? Because you’re feeling guilty about your affair?”
“No, of course not. I just wanted to say it while I still had the chance,” Will said.
“Oh. Well...thank you,” I said somewhat stiffly. I wasn’t ready to forgive him, not even close, but on our current list of problems, Will’s infidelity was nowhere near the top. “But look, nothing will happen too quickly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Even if the police do listen to Rio, and even if they hear the recording, it could still take a while. It’s not like they’re going to show up tomorrow and arrest one or both of us.” Everyone was always shocked by just how slowly the criminal justice system worked. In movies and on television, everything was always exciting and fast-moving. That wasn’t how the real world was. The police would take their time, slowly building a case they could make stick.
“So when will they show up?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I guess now we just wait and see.”
* * *
I called my mother, Lindy, from my office the next day.
“I’ve had the most trying day,” she said once she answered the phone. “My house cleaner didn’t show up. She didn’t even bother to call and let me know she wasn’t coming. Who does that? I came home from tennis to find my house a complete wreck, and I’m having people over for drinks tonight.”
I blinked, trying to square what my mother considered a crisis with the mess that was currently my life.
“Maybe she’s sick?” I suggested. “Or something happened that kept her from being able to call?”
“How hard is it to call? I wonder if this is her way of quitting. That’s happened before, you know. My last house cleaner just stopped showing up altogether, I think because she was unhappy with the Christmas bonus I gave her. Can you believe that? And I always give out a key to my house. If someone disappears, it means I have to get the locks changed so that no one breaks in and murders me in the middle of the night.”
“Why are you hiring people to clean your house who you think are capable of murdering you?”
“I don’t, but it’s not like I know the intimate details of their personal lives. I don’t know what sort of degenerates they might interact with, who they might give my key to.”
“Mom,” I said. “I need to talk to you about something. It’s important.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked sharply. �
�Did you get a bad mammogram? That’s happened to me before. They get false positives all the time.”
“What? No, it has nothing to do with a mammogram. Please just listen for a minute. There may be a time when I need you to come and get Charlie.”
“Come and get him for what?”
“To stay with you. Look... I know that sounds cryptic, but I can’t go into more detail right now.” I turned my chair around so that I could look out at the river. It was a gray day and there wasn’t much boat traffic. A lone pelican soared over the water, fishing for an early dinner. “I just need you to promise me that if something happens to Will and me, you’ll be there for Charlie. You’ll take him to live with you.”
“What’s going on?” Lindy’s voice was sharp in my ear. “What are you talking about?”
“Like I said, I can’t get into specifics. But I need you to promise me.”
“Of course I will. But if you’re looking for a guardian for Charlie in the event of your deaths, wouldn’t you be better off asking your brother? I’m sure he and Anna would be happy to take Charlie. I know Patrick always wanted a son. He just never says anything about it because he doesn’t want to hurt Anna’s feelings.”
I could feel a familiar flash of irritation. My mother had always had this effect on me. Even now when I was facing possible criminal prosecution and the end of my life as I currently knew it.
“That’s not how biology works, Mom. It’s the sperm that determines the sex of the offspring.”
“What on earth are you talking about? Why are you bringing up sperm? It’s eleven in the morning.”
I took my phone away from my ear and stared down at it for a moment. Then I remembered Charlie, the purpose of the call, and put the phone back to my ear.
My mother was still talking. “You know, I’ve never fully understood what your brother ever saw in Anna. She’s nice enough, I suppose, but she’s just such a hippy, the way she’s always going on and on about lunar cycles and soy products, which I really don’t think are even that good for you.”
“Mom. Listen to me. This isn’t about picking a guardian for Charlie. It’s about driving up here and getting him in the case of an emergency, which Patrick and Anna obviously can’t do, since they live in California. Can you please just agree that you’ll do that for me? If not, I’ll ask Mandy, but that might be more problematic.”
