by Harlan Coben
Kardashian. As in 0. J. The man had changed law lexicon forever. "But . . ." Myron stopped. "This is ridiculous. Where is Linda?"
"Upstairs. I've informed the police that she is too grief-stricken to speak to them at this time."
"You don't understand. Linda.shouldn't even be a suspect. Once she tells you the whole story, you'll see what I mean."
Another near yawn. "She has told me the whole story."
"Even about . . . ?"
"The kidnapping," Victoria Wilson finished for him.
"Yes."
"Well, don't you think that kind of exonerates her?"
"No."
Myron was confused. "Do the police know about the kidnapping'?"
"Of course not. We are saying nothing at this time."
Myron made a face. "But once they hear about the kidnapping, they'll focus on that. They'll know Linda couldn't be involved."
Victoria Wilson tumed away. "Let's go upstairs."
"You don't agree'?"
She didn't respond. They began to climb the staircase.
Victoria said, "You are an attorney."
It didn't sound like a question, but Myron still said, "I
don't practice."
"But you passed the bar." `
"In New York."
"Good enough. I want you to be co-counsel in this case. I can get you an immediate dispensation."
"I don't do criminal law," Myron said.
"You don't have to. I just want you to be an attorney of record for Mrs. Coldren."
Myron nodded. "So I can't testify," he said. "So everything I hear falls under privilege."
Still bored. "You are a smart one." She stopped next to a bedroom door and leaned against a wall. "Go in. I'm going to wait out here."
Myron knocked. Linda Coldren told him to come in.
He opened the door. Linda stood by the far window looking out onto her backyard.
"Linda'?"
Her back still faced him. "I'm having a bad week, Myron." She laughed. It was not a happy sound.
"Are you okay'?" he asked.
"Me? Never better. Thanks for asking."
He stepped toward her, unsure what to say. "Did the kidnappers call about the ransom?"
"Last night," Linda said. " Jack spoke to them."
"What did they say?"
"I don't know. He stormed out after the call. He never told me."
Myron tried to picture this scene. A call comes in.
Jack answers it. He runs out without saying anything. It didn't exactly mesh.
"Have you heard from them again?" he tried.
"No, not yet."
Myron nodded, even though she wasn't facing him.
"So what did you do?"
"Do?"
"Last night. After Jack stormed out."
Linda Coldren folded her arms across her chest. "I
waited a few minutes for him to calm down," she said.
"When he didn't come back, I went out looking for him."
"You went to Merion," Myron said.
"Yes. Jack likes to stroll the grounds. To think and be alone."
"Did you see him there'?"
"No. I looked around for a while. Then I came back here. That's when I ran into you."
"And Jack never came back," Myron said.
With her back still to him, Linda Coldren shook her head. "What tipped you off, Myron? The dead body in the stone quarry?"
"Just trying to help."
She tumed to him. Her eyes were red. Her face was drawn. She was still incredibly beautiful. "I just need someone to take it out on." She shrugged, tried a smile.
"You're here."
Myron wanted to step closer. He refrained. "You've been up all night?"
She nodded. "I've been standing right here, waiting for Jack to come home. When the police knocked on the door, I thought it was about Chad. This is going to sound awful, but when they told me about Jack, I was almost relieved."
The phone rang.
Linda spun around with enough speed to start up a wind tunnel. She looked at Myron. He looked at her.
"It's probably the media," he said.
Linda shook her head. "Not on that line." She reached for the phone, pressed the lit up button, picked up the receiver.
"Hello," she said.
A voice replied. Linda gasped and bit down in midscream.
Her hand flew to her mouth. Tears pushed their way out of her eyes. The door flew open. Victoria Wilson stepped into the room, looking like a bear stirred from a power nap.
Linda looked up at them both. "It's Chad," she said.
"He's free."
Chapter 27
+Victoria Wilson took control. "We'll go pick him up," she said. "You stay on the line with him."
Linda started shaking her head. "But I want- "
"Trust me on this, honey. lf you go, every cop and news reporter will follow. Myron and I can lose them if we have to. I don't want the police talking to your son until I have. You just stay here. You say nothing. If the police come in with a warrant, you let them in. You don't say a word. No matter what. Do you understand'?"
Linda nodded.
"So where is he?"
"On Porter Street."
"Okay, tell him Aunt Victoria is on the way. We'll take care of him."
Linda grabbed her arm, her face pleading. "Will you bring him back here'?"
"Not right away, hon." The voice was still matter-offact. "The police will see. I can't have that. It'll raise too many questions. You'll see him soon enough."
Victoria Wilson tumed away. There was no debate with this woman.
In the car, Myron asked, "How do you know Linda?"
"My mother and father were servants for the Buckwells and Lockwoods," she replied. "I grew up on their estates."
"But somewhere along the line you went to law school?"
She frowned. "You writing my biography'?"
"I'm just asking."
"Why? You surprised that a middle-aged black woman is the attorney for rich WASPs?"
"Frankly," Myron said, "yes."
"Don't blame you. But we don't have time for that now. You got any important questions?"
"Yes," Myron said. He was doing the driving. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing that you need to know."
' 'I'm an attorney of record on the case. I need to know everything."
"Later. Let's concentrate on the boy first."
Again the no-argument monotone.
"Are you sure we're doing the right thing?" Myron continued. "Not telling the police about the kidnapping'?"
"We can always tell them later," Victoria Wilson replied.
"That's the mistake most defendants make. They think they have to talk their way out of it right away. But that's dangerous. There is always time to talk later."
"I'm not sure I agree."
"Tell you what, Myron. If we need some expertise on negotiating a sneaker deal, I'll put you in charge. But while this thing is still a criminal case, let me take the lead, okay?"
"The police want to question me."
"You say nothing. That is your right. You don't have to say a word to the police."
"Unless they subpoena me."
"Even then. You are Linda Coldren's attorney. You don't say anything."
Myron shook his head. "That only works for what she's said after you asked me to be co-counsel. They can ask me about anything that happened before."
"Wrong." Victoria Wilson gave a distracted sigh.
"When Linda Coldren first asked you to help, she knew you were a bar-appointed attomey. Therefore everything she told you fell under attorney-client."
Myron had to smile. 'That's reaching."
"But that's the way it is." He could feel her eyes on him now. "No matter what you might want to do, morally and legally you are not allowed to talk to anyone."
She was good.
Myron drove a bit faster. No one was tailing them; the police and
the reporters had stuck to the house. The story was all over the radio. The anchorman kept repeating a one-line statement issued by Linda Coldren: "We are all saddened by this tragedy. Please allow us to grieve in peace."
"You issue that statement?" Myron asked.
"No. Linda did it before I got there."
Why?
"She thought it would keep the media off her back.
She knows better now."
They pulled up on Porter Street. Myron scanned the sidewalks.
"Up there," Victoria Wilson said. .
Myron saw him. Chad Coldren was huddled on the ground. The telephone receiver was still gripped in one hand, but he wasn't talking. The other hand was heavily bandaged. Myron felt a little queasy. He hit the gas pedal.
The car jerked forward. They pulled up to the boy. Chad stared straight ahead.
Victoria Wilson's indifferent expression finally melted a bit. "Let me handle this," she said.
She got out of the car and walked over to the boy. She bent down and cradled him. She took the receiver away from him, talked into it, hung up. She helped Chad to his feet, stroking his hair, whispering comforts. They both got into the backseat. Chad leaned his head against her.
She made soothing shushing noises. She nodded at Myron.
Myron put the car in drive.
Chad did not speak during the drive. Nobody asked him to. Victoria gave Myron directions to her office building in Bryn Mawr. The Coldren family doctor a grayhaired, old family friend named Hemy Lane had his office there too. He unwrapped Chad's bandage and examined the boy while Myron and Victoria waited in another room. Myron paced. Victoria read a magazine.
"We should take him to a hospital," Myron said.
"Dr. Lane will decide if that's necessary." Victoria yawned and flipped a page.
Myron tried to take it all in. With all the activity surrounding the police accusation and Chad's safe recovery, he had almost forgotten about Jack Coldren. Jack was dead. It was almost impossible for Myron to comprehend.
The irony did not escape him: the man finally has the chance at redemption and he ends up dead in the same hazard that altered his life twenty-three years ago.
Dr. Lane appeared in the doorway. He was everything you wanted a doctor to look like Marcus Welby without the receding hairline. "Chad is better now. He's talking.
He's alert." .
"How's his hand?" Myron asked.
"It'll need to be looked at by a specialist. But there's no infection or anything like that."
Victoria Wilson stood. "I'd like to talk to him."
Lane nodded. "I would warn you to go easy on him, Victoria, but I know you never listen."
Her mouth almost twitched. Not a smile. Not even close. But there was a sign of life. "You'll have to stay out here, Henry. The police may ask you what you heard."
The doctor nodded again. "I understand."
Victoria looked at Myron. "I'll do the talking."
"Okay."
When Myron and Victoria entered the room, Chad was staring down at his bandaged hand like he expected the missing finger to grow back.
"Chad?"
He slowly looked up. There were tears in his eyes.
Myron remembered what Linda had said about the kid's love of golf. Another dream lay in ashes. The kid did not know it, but right now he and Myron were kindred spirits.
"Who are you'?" Chad asked Myron.
"He's a friend," Victoria Wilson replied. Even with the boy, the tone was completely detached. "His name is Myron Bolitar."
"I want to see my parents, Aunt Vee."
Victoria sat across from him. "A lot has happened, Chad. I don't want to go into it all now. You'll have to trust me, okay?"
Chad nodded.
"I need to know what happened to you. Everything.
From the beginning?
"A man car-jacked me," Chad said.
"Just one man?"
"Yeah."
"Go on. Tell me what happened."
"I was at a traffic light, and this guy just opens the passenger door and gets in. He's wearing a ski mask and sticks this gun in my face. He told me to keep driving."
"Okay. What day was this'?"
"Thursday."
"Where were you Wednesday night?"
"At my friend Matt's house."
"Matthew Squires?"
"Yes."
"Okay, fine." Victoria Wilson's eyes did not wander from the boy's face. "Now where were you when this man got into your car?"
"A couple of blocks from school."
"Did this happen before or after summer school?"
"After. I was on my way home."
Myron kept quiet. He wondered why the boy was lying.
"Where did the man take you?"
' 'He told me to drive around the block. We pulled into this parking lot. Then he put something over my head. A
burlap bag or something. He made me lie down in the back. Then he started driving. I don't know where we went. I never saw anything. Next thing I knew I was in a room someplace. I had to keep the bag on my head all the time so I didn't see anything."
"You never saw the man's face?"
"Never."
"Are you sure it was a man? Could it have been a woman?"
"I heard his voice a few times. It was a man. At least, one of them was."
"There was more than one?"
Chad nodded. "The day he did this . . ." He lifted his bandaged hand into view. His face went totally blank.
He looked straight ahead, his eyes unfocused. "I had that burlap bag over my head. My hands were handcuffed behind my back." His voice was as detached as Victoria's now. "That bag was so itchy. I used to rub my chin against my shoulder. Just for relief. Anyway, the man came in and unlocked the handcuffs. Then he grabbed my hand and put it flat on the table. He didn't say anything.
He didn't warn me. The whole thing took less than ten seconds. He just put my hand on the table. I never saw a thing. I just heard a whack. Then I felt this weird sensation.
Not even pain at first. I didn't know what it was.
Then I felt a warm wetness. From the blood, I guess. The pain came a few seconds later. I passed out. When I woke up, my hand was wrapped. The throbbing was awful. The burlap bag was back over my head. Someone came in.
Gave me some pills. It dulled the pain a little. Then I
heard voices. Two of them. It sounded like they were arguing."
Chad Coldren stopped as though out of breath. Myron watched Victoria Wilson. She did not go over and comfort him.
"Were the voices both male?" I
' 'Actually, one sounded like a female. But I was pretty out of it. I can't say for sure." `
Chad looked back down at his bandages. He moved his lingers a bit. Testing them out.
"What happened next, Chad?"
He kept his eyes on the bandages. "'l`here's not a lot to tell, Aunt Vee. They kept me that way for a few days. I
don't know how many. They fed me mostly pizza and soda. They brought a phone in one day. Made me call Merion and ask for my dad."
The ransom call at Merion, Myron thought. The kidnapper's second call.
"They also made me scream."
"Made you scream?"
"The guy came in. He told me to scream and to make it scary. Otherwise, he would make me scream for real.
So I tried different screams for, like, ten minutes. Until he was satisfied."
The scream from the call at the mall, Myron thought.
The one where Tito demanded a hundred grand.
"That's about it, Aunt Vee."
"How did you escape?" Victoria asked.
"I didn't. They let me go. A little while ago someone led me to a car. I still had the burlap bag on my head. We drove a little. Then the car stopped. Someone opened the door and pulled me out. Next thing I knew, I was free."
Victoria looked over at Myron. Myron looked back.
Then she nodded slowly. Myron took that as his cue.
Chad said, "What?"
Myron turned his attention to him. "You're lying, Chad. And worse, the police will know you're lying."
"What are you talking about?" His eyes sought Victoria's.-"Who is this guy?"
"You used your ATM card at 6:18 P. M. on Thursday on Porter Street," Myron said.
Chad's eyes widened. "That wasn't me. It was the asshole who grabbed me. He took my wallet "
"It's on videotape, Chad."
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Then:
"They made me." But his voice was weak.
"l saw the tape, Chad. You were smiling. You were happy. You were not alone. You also spent an evening at the sleazy motel next door."
Chad lowered his head.
"Chad?" It was Victoria. She did not sound pleased.
"Look at me, boy."
Chad slowly raised his eyes.
"Why are you lying to me?"
' 'It has nothing to do with what happened, Aunt Vee.' '
Her face was unyielding. "Start talking, Chad. And now."
He looked down again, studying the bandaged hand.
"It's just like I said exeept the man didn't grab me in my car. He knocked on my door at that motel. He came in vith a gun. Everything else I told you is the truth."
"When was this?"
"Friday morning."
"So why did you lie to me?"
"I promised," he said. "I just wanted to keep her out of this."
"Who?" she asked.
Chad looked surprised. "You don't know?"
"I have the tape," Myron said, giving a little bluff here. "I haven't shown it to her yet."
"Aunt Vee, you have to keep her out of it. This could really hurt her."
"Honey, listen to me now. I think it's sweet that you're trying to protect your girlfriend. But I don't have time for that."
Chad looked from Myron to Victoria. "I want to see my mom please."
"You will, honey. Soon. But first you have to tell me about this girl."
"I promised that I would keep her out of it."
"If I can keep her name out of this, I will."
"I can't, Aunt Vee."
"Forget it, Victoria," Myron said. "If he won't tell, we can all just watch the tape together. Then we can call the girl on her own. or maybe the police will find her first. They'll have a copy of the tape too. They won't be so worried about her feelings."
