by David Ellis
She put a hand on her forehead. “Alex, I think I would have made an exception where you were looking at a death sentence.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. It sounds ridiculous.” He looked out through the bars. “This whole thing was my fault, Shelly. I was the one who did all of this. I got caught up in drugs because of that stupid thing with Todavia’s car. I got greedy looking to blackmail you, and then Miroballi. I got caught by the F.B.I. I just kept screwing things up because I was doing the wrong thing. I thought I could get this one thing right. I felt like I owed you.” He looked at her.
“I guess.” She drew a circle on the floor with her shoe.
“Besides,” he added, “we had a pretty good defense, right? The F.B.I. thought Miroballi was making me sell drugs. You did, too. Why couldn’t we convince a jury of that? I thought we could.”
“Okay.”
“Any other questions, Ms. Trotter?”
She scratched her head. “I can barely process what you’ve already told me.”
“Then I have a question for you,” he said.
“Shoot.” She winced at the pun.
“You asked me the other day about me hurting my knee that night. How’d you know about that? I never told you.”
She looked at him.
“Ronnie told you, didn’t he? Must have been him.”
“It was.”
“All casual-like, I bet.” He laughed. “You see what he was doing.”
“Actually, no,” she conceded.
“He was trying to draw you to him. He wanted you to wonder how I had gotten so far away from the alley in such a short time, on a bad knee.”
“You’re saying he wanted me to think that he had helped you,” she said. “He wanted me to suspect him.”
Alex nodded. “He really wanted you to put him on the stand, so he could do exactly what he did—tell the whole world the truth. He wanted someone to put him on the stand, whatever it took. And you weren’t going to call him as a witness. He was doing whatever he could to get your attention.”
“He could have told me the truth.”
“I wouldn’t let him. He probably figured I’d sabotage it if he tried. He wanted to give you no choice but to call him.”
“I’m not sure I would have.” She sat down on the bed. “I struggled with it more than you could know.”
“Because he was your son. That’s why he didn’t want you to know that. He didn’t want you to feel loyal to him. He wanted you to accuse him.”
She recalled Ronnie’s reaction when she confronted him on that point, told him that she knew he was her son. His anger, his frustration.
“He finally figured out a way to get the prosecutor to call him,” Alex continued. “He came to visit me in that interview room and shouted all kinds of bad stuff to me. He was hoping that the government was watching.”
And they were. Dan Morphew had eaten it up. In one fell swoop, Ronnie Masters had gotten himself immunity for any role he played and, more important, had been given the forum he had badly craved to announce the secret to the entire world.
“He’s a smart one,” said Alex. “It must be the good genes.”
“No doubt.”
“That boy would do anything to protect me.”
Shelly thought through the last couple of weeks. “Ronnie went to see Eddie Todavia a few times,” she said. “Why?”
“Same reason.” Alex shook his head, smiling. “Trying to draw someone’s suspicion. Hoping someone, anyone, was watching. I’ll bet he was obvious about it. He was in broad daylight with Eddie, right?”
She recalled the photos Joel Lightner had taken. It was true. Ronnie was walking down the middle of the street with Todavia. She laughed. “He couldn’t have been more obvious.”
Alex tapped his temple. “Smart, I’m telling you.”
“What about this other guy he went to see, Alex? Robert El-something. What was—”
“Robert Eldridge. He went to see him?”
She looked at Alex.
“Robert Eldridge,” Alex explained, “is Dina’s ex-husband. That witness from way back? He was trying to find Dina to help tell the story all over again.”
“Or hoping that we’d follow him and make the connection ourselves.”
“You or anyone else,” Alex said. “If it had come down to it, I’m sure Ronnie would have just marched into the judge’s chambers and spilled the whole thing. But I don’t think he trusted the legal system. He always complained about the rules. If he just went to you, or to the prosecutor, he was afraid that he wouldn’t be allowed to testify. That someone would say that the rules of evidence prevented it or something. Better to make one of you call him, put him on the stand, and then tell a room full of reporters and the jury the truth. Then, nobody could stop him. Any excuse he could come up with, just to get into that courtroom.”
“Right.”
“I pulled all this shit, Shelly, and Ronnie saved me. You got a good kid there.”
She did have a kid. She had always known it, and was even able to put a face and name to the concept over the last few months. Now, for some reason, as things were coming to a close, the notion seemed to have more meaning. Something she couldn’t put her finger on, that stirred her emotions in a way that she had never felt.
The tears surprised her, how quickly they came. She was in a fragile state in every way, but still. She wasn’t a crier. She wiped at her face.
“So—what’s gonna happen now, do you think?” he asked.
She composed herself after a moment. She walked over to him, placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’re not on tomorrow. The prosecutor and I are going to see what can be done.”
“You think they’ll drop the case?”
She sighed. “Honestly?”
“No, lie to me.”
“I don’t think they’ll drop this case, Alex. And I don’t think the judge will throw it out, either. The heat is too great. There’s politics. There’s a dead cop.”
Alex seemed to deflate. He apparently thought that things would change with this revelation.
“Get some sleep,” she told him. “Let me be the lawyer. I’m going to talk to Ronnie, and I’ll come back tomorrow and we’ll get prepared for the rest of this.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “But you’re the one who needs sleep.”
She kissed him on the cheek and left him in the cell. She reached into her bag for her cell phone, which had been turned off. When the screen lit up, it told her she had four messages. She listened to her voice mail as she waited for the elevator to the courthouse lobby. The reception was less than perfect, but she had no trouble making out the callers, because all four messages, spread out over the last hour and a half, were from the same person.
Maribelle Rodriguez, the chief of staff to Governor Langdon Trotter.
She could imagine the chaos in the state capital, or wherever he was. It would have taken the press all of two minutes, after the revelations in court hours ago, to hunt down the governor and ambush him with questions. And she hadn’t called to warn him. Never mind that she had been lying unconscious on a courtroom floor. That was a distinction that would be lost on an elected official, in the heat of a re-election campaign, who suddenly had a great deal of explaining to do. He would want to coordinate his comments with Shelly, and perhaps add a few private comments of his own.
Well, he’ll have to wait, she said to herself.
75
Beginning
SHELLY WALKED INTO the interview room at the county lockup. Ronnie Masters still wore a blue button-down shirt and khaki pants, looked like he was readying himself for church.
He looked different to her, though, more at ease than ever before. All of the calculating was over. He had had a mission all along, and that mission was apparently accomplished.
“How are you doing?” he asked her.
“The bump on my head is fine,” she said. “I’m not sure about the rest of me.”
“What are they gonna do about
Alex?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. Probably keep going.”
“But you’ll win now.”
“Probably. You and I need to talk about your testimony. That’s one of the reasons I’m here.”
“What’s the other?”
“The other—” She looked up at the ceiling. She thought of all the times she had spoken with Ronnie about Alex, back when she thought Alex was her son. All of the questions Ronnie had asked. Was she ashamed of her son? Was she mad that her son had come to find her?
She opened her hands. “I’m sorry, Ronnie.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“I’m sorry because—because—”
“Because you gave me up for adoption?” he asked. “That wasn’t such a bad move.”
“Because I didn’t come to find you. Because I didn’t try.”
She felt another shiver run through her. She could never pinpoint exactly why she had never looked up her son. There were plenty of rationalizations. She didn’t want to burst into a happy child’s life and cause chaos. She feared her child’s rejection. She would never know the reasons. Maybe that was no longer the point.
“The whole thing was probably tough on you,” Ronnie said.
“Tough on me.” She grimaced. “Ronnie, I—” She felt her throat close, the emotion rise. She thought of her own parents, the years lost after Ronnie was conceived.
She walked over and sat next to him. “Listen. I don’t really know what I’m doing. It’s not like there’s a manual or anything.” Her hand lingered in the air.
“A manual for what?”
“I—” She framed her hands in the air. “I—we need to—I want to be a part of things. I don’t know how this is going to work. I just—”
“Just be my friend, Shelly. I already have a mom.” He said it with such simplicity. Shelly was impressed by his strength, grateful for his generosity.
She touched his hand. “I can do that. I want to do that.”
Her cell phone rang. She held her breath. This was the fifth phone call.
“You should answer that,” Ronnie said.
“It can wait. We have to talk about your testimony.”
“Maybe it’s important.”
“It can wait.” She went to her bag and removed a notepad. Then she put it down. She thought of her father. She thought of family. She looked back at Ronnie.
“I have always loved my child,” she said, surprised at the strength of her voice. “I didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl or anything else. But I have always carried around so much love for that child. I know it’s hard to understand, because I didn’t do anything about—”
“You think it’s hard for me to understand?” Ronnie stood up. “You loved someone you had never met. So did I. I understand. Is that what you need to hear? I forgive you. Okay? It was tough, and you have all kinds of thoughts swirling around your head. It’s a lot different when it moves from the abstract to real. Believe me, I get it. Just—don’t get so worked up about labels. Let’s just—y’know—hang together. Watch each other’s backs. Have some fun once in a while. Stay a—a part of each other.”
She walked over and extended a hand. He took it and pulled her into a hug. “There,” he said. “Not so bad, was it? Friends hug.”
“Okay.” Her throat choked, but she felt unimaginable relief. He was making this so easy for her. “Now, as inappropriate as it may seem, we really do need to talk about your testimony.” She grabbed his shoulder, then moved to the other side of the table and picked up her notepad.
“Can I have ten bucks for the movies tonight?” he asked.
She laughed.
“Can I stay out past my curfew?”
“Cease and desist.” She raised a hand.
“Can I sleep over at Billy’s?”
“Only if you clean your room. Now, can we talk about your testimony?”
“Hey—” He shrugged. “You’re the one who wants to make up for lost time.”
Lost time. Time lost. She had spent so long pining over it, she had forgotten to turn her head forward. Her cell phone rang again. She reached for it and turned it off.
76
Messy
SHELLY FOUGHT THROUGH reporters that had gathered around the county jail, and jumped into a cab. A taxi to her house from downtown could set her back as much as twenty dollars and was typically unheard of for her, but she couldn’t fathom the thought of dozens of reporters following her to the bus stop. Safely in the taxi, she dialed the number Mari Rodriguez had left her.
“Mari, it’s Shelly.”
“Shelly—God, I’ve been calling you all day.”
“I take it the news has reached you.”
“You could say that. He wants to see you, Shelly. He’s been in a budget meeting all day but he told me to pull him out when I got hold of you.”
“I’m heading home.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“This news isn’t—” She wasn’t going to apologize. No. There was nothing for which she needed to say she was sorry.
“Mari,” she said, “I didn’t want this. I had no idea who this cop was.”
“I understand.”
“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”
A pause. Mari was a good sort.
“You could say that,” she said.
Shelly clicked off the phone and dropped her head back on the carseat. She thought of the headlines for her father. She tried to rationalize each piece of information. A private adoption was not a crime. His grandson’s involvement, in some way, in a cop shooting. His loose-cannon daughter. It was the collective whole. Messy, is what it was.
Her phone rang again.
“Shelly, it’s Joel. Jesus Christ!”
“Hi, Joel.”
“I’m reading this on-line. The Watch. Ronnie’s your son? Miroballi—”
“All true,” she said.
“‘A grandson who’s never been acknowledged by the Trotter family.’ ‘A daughter, outcast from the family—’”
“It says that?” She came forward in the seat, felt a wave of nausea.
“‘Did the governor involve himself in the prosecution?’ ‘Did his daughter know this all along?’”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“It’s not pretty, Shel. Did you really faint?”
She moaned.
“And I got some news for you, Counselor.”
“Tell me it’s good, Joel. I can’t take anything else right now.”
“Depends on your perspective. Guess which west-side drug dealer woke up this morning without any arms?”
“No.”
“Mr. Edward Todavia, one and the same.”
She did a quick calculation. Ronnie Masters was in the county lockup last night. She immediately scolded herself for even considering it.
“That’s the Cans for you. He got notorious. They don’t like publicity.”
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” she said.
“Not in my cab, lady,” the driver called back.
“That’s one less scumbag on the street,” Joel said. “Don’t lose sleep over that guy.”
“It’s up here on the left,” she told the cab driver.
“You got plenty else to lose sleep over, I’m afraid,” Joel added.
77
Regrets
SHELLY WALKED DOWN the hallway upon hearing the whine of the intercom buzzer. She hit the button for entry into her building and walked over by the door. She unlocked it and found herself taking steps backward, away from the door.
The state plane from the capital would have landed, by her estimation, about twenty-five minutes ago.
He came in by himself, without any security detail. He seemed startled, for some reason, to see her. Perhaps he’d been lost in thought. Perhaps he’d been busy calculating the damage to his political campaign. There had been some talk of a vice presidential bid down the road, perhaps even the top spot. Why not? He was a tall, handsome, personable conservative from
a large Midwestern state.
That was over now. No question. Stuff like this? Just too messy. He’d be lucky to hold on to his current job now.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said, standing firm. She immediately regretted the capitulation.
He looked at her with a quizzical expression, cocked his head. And then she saw something she had not ever seen before. She saw tears in the eyes of her father.
“You’re sor—” His throat closed. Something else she had never seen.
It was a moment she couldn’t describe, one that she never would be able to explain. A breakthrough. A spark, maybe, that each of them had been awaiting. She didn’t know who moved to whom. Later, she would remember that they met in the middle. They held each other tightly, desperately, their bodies trembling. No words were spoken for what seemed like forever, as if they were trying to recover so much with this embrace. Just like that, and she felt it sweep over her, felt time melt away.
His head turned, his mouth moved to her ear. “What kind of a father am I?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “What kind of a father am I, when my beautiful little girl can’t tell me that she was—that somebody had—had hurt my little—”
“I should have told you, Daddy. I’m so—”
“No,” he whispered gently. “It wasn’t your job to tell me. It was my job to ask. I prosecuted so many of those cases, and when it came to my own daughter—” He stroked her hair. “I thought you were being stubborn. I swear that’s what I thought. I swear.”
She didn’t have a reply to that. She just held on to him as tightly as she could.
“You had to go through all of that alone. And I made you feel worse. Oh, God, Shelly, can you ever forgive me?”
“I already have.” She pulled back from him. She tried to smile, but her lips were still trembling.
He cupped his hand around her chin, and this seemed to calm him. “I am so proud of you and so ashamed of myself.”
She shook her head but couldn’t speak.
“I want my daughter back,” he said.
