by Harlan Coben
“You’ve done this too, haven’t you?” Sophie said.
Myron kept his eyes on the janitor. “Done what?” But he knew.
“I’ve looked into your past,” she said. “You and your business associate often take the law into your own hands, am I right? You play judge and jury.”
Myron said nothing.
“That’s all I did. For the sake of my daughter’s memory.”
The blurry line between fair and foul again. “So you decided to frame me for Clu’s murder.”
“Yes.”
“The perfect way to wreak vengeance on me for bribing the officers.”
“I thought so at the time.”
“But you messed up, Sophie. You ended up framing the wrong person.”
“That was an accident.”
Myron shook his head. “I should have seen it,” he said. “Even Billy Lee Palms said it, but I didn’t pay attention. And Hester Crimstein said it to me the first time I met her.”
“Said what?”
“They both pointed out that the blood was found in my car, the gun in my office. Maybe I killed Clu, they said. A logical deduction except for one thing. I was out of the country. You didn’t know that, Sophie. You didn’t know that Esperanza and Big Cyndi were playing a shell game with everybody, pretending I was still around. That’s why you were so upset with me when you found out I’d been away. I messed up your plan. You also didn’t know that Clu had an altercation with Esperanza. So all the evidence that was supposed to point to me—”
“Pointed instead to your associate, Miss Diaz,” Sophie said.
“Exactly,” Myron said. “But there’s one other thing I want to clear up.”
“More than one thing,” Sophie corrected.
“What?”
“There’s more than one thing you’ll want to clear up,” Sophie said. “But please go ahead. What would you like to know?”
“You were the one who had me followed,” he said. “The guy I spotted outside the Lock-Horne building. He was yours.”
“Yes. I knew Clu had tried to hook up with you. I hoped the same might happen with Billy Lee Palms.”
“Which it did. Billy Lee thought that maybe I killed Clu to keep my part in the crime buried. He thought I wanted to kill him too.”
“It makes sense,” she agreed. “You had a lot to lose.”
“So you were following me then? At the bar?”
“Yes.”
“Personally?”
She smiled. “I grew up a hunter and a tracker, Myron. The city or the woods, it makes little difference.”
“You saved my life,” he said.
She did not reply.
“Why?”
“You know why. I didn’t come there to kill Billy Lee Palms. But there are degrees of guilt. Simply put, he was more guilty than you. When it came down to a question of you or him, I chose to kill him. You deserve to be punished, Myron. But you didn’t deserve to be killed by scum like Billy Lee Palms.”
“Judge and jury again?”
“Luckily for you, Myron, yes.”
He sat down hard on the pitcher’s mound, his whole body suddenly drained. “I can’t just let you get away with this,” he said. “I may sympathize. But you killed Clu Haid in cold blood.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I didn’t kill Clu Haid.”
“I don’t expect you to confess.”
“Expect or don’t expect. I didn’t kill him.”
Myron frowned. “You had to. It all adds up.”
Her eyes remained placid pools. Myron’s head started spinning. He turned and looked up at Jared.
“He didn’t kill him either,” Sophie said.
“One of you did,” Myron said.
“No.”
Myron looked at Jared. Jared said nothing. Myron opened his mouth, closed it, tried to come up with something.
“Think, Myron.” Sophie crossed her arms and smiled at him. “I told you my philosophy when you were last here. I’m a hunter. I don’t hate what I kill. Just the opposite. I respect what I kill. I honor my kill. I consider the animal brave and noble. Killing, in fact, can be merciful. That’s why I kill with one shot. Not Billy Lee Palms, of course. I wanted him to have at least a few moments of agony and fear. And of course, I would never show Clu Haid mercy.”
Myron tried to sort through it. “But—”
And then he heard yet another click. His conversation with Sally Li started uncoiling in his head.
The crime scene …
Christ, the crime scene. It was in such a state of disarray. Blood on the walls. Blood on the floor. Because blood splatters would show the truth. So splatter some more. Destroy the evidence. Fire more shots into the corpse. To the calf, to the back, even to the head. Take the gun with you. Mess things up. Cover up what really happened.
“Oh God …”
Sophie nodded at him.
Myron’s mouth felt dry as a sandstorm. “Clu committed suicide?”
Sophie tried a smile, but she just couldn’t quite make it.
Myron started to stand, his bad knee audibly creaking as he rose. “The end of his marriage, the failed drug test, but mostly the past coming back at him—it was all too much. He shot himself in the head. The other shots were just to throw the police off. The crime scene was messed up so no one would be able to analyze the blood splatters and see it was a suicide. It was all a diversion.”
“A coward to the end,” Sophie said.
“But how did you know he killed himself? Did you have his place bugged or under surveillance?”
“Nothing so technical, Myron. He wanted us to find him—me specifically.”
Myron just stared at her.
“We were supposed to have our big confrontation that night. Yes, Clu had hit rock bottom, Myron. But I was not through with him. Not by a long shot. An animal deserved a quick kill. Not Clu Haid. But when Jared and I arrived, he’d already taken the gutless way out.”
“And the money?”
“It was there. As you noted, the anonymous stranger who sent him the diskette and made all those phone calls was blackmailing him. But he knew it was us. I took the money that night and donated it to the Child Welfare Institute.”
“You caused him to kill himself.”
She shook her head, her posture still ramrod. “Nobody causes someone to kill himself. Clu Haid chose his fate. It was not what I intended but—”
“Intended? He’s dead, Sophie.”
“Yes, but it was not what I intended. Just as you, Myron, did not intend to cover up my daughter’s murder.”
Silence.
“You took advantage of his death,” Myron said. “You planted the blood and gun in my car and office. Or you hired someone to do it.”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “The truth has to come out,” he said.
“No.”
“I’m not letting Esperanza rot in jail—”
“It’s done,” Sophie Mayor said.
“What?”
“My attorney is meeting with the DA as we speak. Anonymously, of course. They won’t know whom he represents.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I kept evidence that night,” she said. “I took pictures of the body. They’ll test Clu’s hand for powder residue. I even have a suicide note, if need be. The charges against Esperanza will be dropped. She’ll be released in the morning. It’s over.”
“The DA isn’t going to settle for that. He’s going to want to know the whole story.”
“Life is full of wants, Myron. But the DA won’t get it in this case. He’ll just have to live with that reality. And in the end it’s just a suicide anyway. High profile or not, it won’t be a priority.” She reached into her pocket and took out a piece of paper. “Here,” she said. “It’s Clu’s suicide note.”
Myron hesitated. He took the note, immediately recognizing Clu’s handwriting. He started reading:
Dear Mrs. Ma
yor,
The torment has gone on long enough. I know you won’t accept my apology and I can’t say that I blame you. But I also don’t have the strength to face you. I’ve been running away from that night all my life. I hurt my family and my friends, but I hurt nobody so much as I hurt you. I hope my death gives you some measure of comfort.
I am the one to blame for what happened. Billy Lee Palms just did what I told him to. The same goes for Myron Bolitar. I paid off the police. Myron just delivered the money. He never knew the truth. My wife was knocked out in the accident. She also never knew the truth and she still doesn’t.
The money is all here. Do with it what you will. Tell Bonnie that I’m sorry and that I understand everything. And let my children know that their father always loved them. They were the only thing pure and good in my life. You, of all people, should understand that.
Clu Haid
Myron read the note again. He pictured Clu writing it, then putting it aside, then picking up the gun and pressing it against his head. Did he close his eyes then? Did he think of his children, the two boys with his smile, before he pulled the trigger? Did he hesitate at all?
His eyes stayed on the note. “You didn’t believe him,” he said.
“About the culpability of the others? No. I knew he was lying. You, for example. You were more than a delivery boy. You bribed those officers.”
“Clu lied to protect us,” Myron said. “In the end he sacrificed himself for those he loved.”
Sophie frowned. “Don’t make him out to be a martyr.”
“I’m not. But you just can’t walk away from what you did.”
“I did nothing.”
“You made a man—the father of two boys—kill himself.”
“He made a choice, that’s all.”
“He didn’t deserve that.”
“And my daughter didn’t deserve to be murdered and buried in an anonymous pit,” she said.
Myron looked up into the stadium lights, letting them blind him a bit.
“Clu was off drugs,” he said. “You’ll pay the rest of his salary.”
“No.”
“You’ll also let the world know—and his children—that in the end Clu wasn’t on drugs.”
“No,” Sophie said again. “The world won’t know that. And they also won’t know Clu was a murderer. I’d say that’s a pretty good bargain, wouldn’t you?”
He read the note again, tears stinging his eyes.
“One heroic moment in the end doesn’t redeem him,” Sophie said.
“But it says something.”
“Go home, Myron. And be glad it’s over. If the truth were ever to come out, there is only one guilty party left to take the fall.”
Myron nodded. “Me.”
“Yes.”
They stared at each other.
“I didn’t know about your daughter,” he said.
“I know that now.”
“You thought I helped Clu cover it up.”
“No, I know you helped Clu cover it up. What I wasn’t sure about is if you knew what you were doing. It was why I asked you to look for Lucy—so I could see how deep your involvement was.”
“The void,” Myron said.
“What about it?”
“Did this help fill it?”
Sophie thought about it. “Strangely enough, the answer is yes, I think. It doesn’t bring Lucy back. But I feel as though she’s been properly buried now. I think we can begin to heal.”
“So we all just go on?”
Sophie smiled. “What else can we do?”
She nodded to Jared. Jared took his mother’s hand, and they started back for the dugout.
“I am very sorry,” Myron said.
Sophie stopped. She dropped her son’s hand and studied Myron for a moment, her eyes moving over his face. “You committed a felony by bribing those police officers. You put my family and me through years of agony. You probably contributed to my husband’s premature death. You had a hand in the deaths of Clu Haid and Billy Lee Palms. And in the end you made me commit horrible acts I always thought I was incapable of committing.” She stepped back toward her son, her gaze more tired now than accusatory. “I won’t hurt you any further. But if you don’t mind, I’ll let you keep your apology.”
She gave Myron a moment for rebuttal. He didn’t use it. They strode down the steps and disappeared, leaving Myron alone with the grass and the dirt and the bright stadium lights.
CHAPTER 39
In the lot Win frowned and holstered his .44. “No one even pulled a gun.”
Myron said nothing. He got into his car. Win got into his. Myron’s cellular phone rang before he had driven five minutes. It was Hester Crimstein.
“They’re dropping the charges,” she said to him. “Esperanza will be out tomorrow morning. They’re offering up a full exoneration and apology if we promise not to sue.”
“Will you accept that?”
“It’s up to Esperanza. But I think she’ll agree.”
Myron drove to Bonnie’s house. Her mother opened the door and looked angry. Myron pushed past her and found Bonnie alone. He showed her the note. She cried. He held her. He looked in on the two sleeping boys and stayed in the doorway until Bonnie’s mother tapped him on the shoulder and asked him to leave. He did.
He headed back to Win’s apartment. When he opened the door, Terese’s suitcase was by the entrance. She stepped into the foyer.
“You’re packed,” Myron said.
She smiled. “I love a man who misses nothing.”
He waited.
“I’m leaving in an hour for Atlanta,” she said.
“Oh.”
“I spoke to my boss at CNN. Ratings have been down. He wants me back on the air tomorrow.”
“Oh,” Myron said again.
Terese pulled at a ring on her finger. “You ever try a long-distance relationship?” she asked.
“No.”
“Might be worth a try.”
“Might be,” he said.
“I hear the sex is great.”
“That’s never been our trouble, Terese.”
“No,” she said. “It hasn’t.”
He checked his watch. “Only an hour, you said?”
She smiled. “Actually, an hour and ten minutes.”
“Whew,” he said, moving closer.
At midnight Myron and Win were in the living room watching television.
“You’ll miss her,” Win said.
“I’m flying down to Atlanta this weekend.”
Win nodded. “Best-case scenario.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning you are the pitiful, needy type who feels incomplete without a steady girlfriend. Who better than a career woman who lives a thousand miles away?”
More silence. They watched a repeat of Frasier on Channel 11. The show was starting to grow on them both.
“An agent represents his clients,” Win said during a commercial. “You’re his advocate. You can’t worry about the repercussions.”
“You really believe that?”
“Sure, why not?”
Myron shrugged. “Yeah, why not?” He watched another commercial. “Esperanza said I’m starting to get too comfortable with breaking the rules.”
Win said nothing.
“Truth is,” Myron said, “I’ve been doing it for a while. I paid off police officers to cover up a crime.”
“You didn’t know the severity.”
“Does that matter?”
“Of course it does.”
Myron shook his head. “We trample on that damned foul line until we can’t see it anymore,” he said softly.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about us. Sophie Mayor said that you and I do the same thing she did. We take the law into our own hands. We break the rules.”
“So?”
“So it’s not right.”
Win frowned. “Oh, please.”
“The innocent ge
t hurt.”
“The police hurt the innocent too.”
“Not like this. Esperanza suffered when she had nothing to do with any of this. Clu deserved to be punished, but what happened to Lucy Mayor was still an accident.”
Win drummed his chin with two fingers. “If we put aside an argument on the relative severity of drunk driving,” he said, “in the end it was not merely an accident. Clu chose to bury the body. The fact that he couldn’t live with it doesn’t excuse it.”
“We can’t keep doing this, Win.”
“Keep doing what?”
“Breaking the rules.”
“Let me pose a question to you, Myron.” Win continued his chin drumming. “Suppose you were Sophie Mayor and Lucy Mayor were your daughter. What would you have done?”
“Maybe the same thing,” Myron said. “Does that make it right?”
“Depends,” Win said.
“On?”
“On the Clu Haid factor: Can you live with yourself?”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. Can you live with yourself? I know that I could.”
“And you’re comfortable with that?”
“With what?”
“With a world where people take the law into their own hands,” Myron said.
“Good lord, no. I’m not prescribing this remedy for others.”
“Just you.”
Win shrugged. “I trust my judgment. I’d trust yours too. But now you want to go back in time and take an alternate route. Life is not like that. You made a decision. It was a good one based on what you knew. A tough call, but aren’t they all? It could have worked out the other way. Clu might have smartened up from the experience, become a better person. My point is, you can’t concern yourself with distant, impossible-to-see consequences.”
“Just worry about the here and now.”
“Precisely.”
“And what you can live with.”
“Yes.
“So maybe next time,” Myron said, “I should opt for doing the right thing.”
Win shook his head. “You’re confusing the right thing with the legal or seemingly moral thing. But that’s not the real world. Sometimes the good guys break the rules because they know better.”
