Keep No Secrets (36 page)

"Did she give you my message?" Earl asks.

She would have had to talk to me to do that
.

He shrugs in a noncommittal way, neither yes nor no.

"Why didn't you call me back? I've never known you not to return my calls."

"I wasn't somewhere I could talk."

"On Wednesday
and
Thursday? Where might that have been?"

"Earl, lay off me already, will you? I wasn't anywhere Claire doesn't know about."

"So reassure me." Earl's aging eyes haven't lost their power to penetrate.

Jack looks away and rubs at an

imperfection at the front edge of the desk.

He told Claire where he was, and as far as he's concerned, she's the only one who's entitled to know.

"You went to Dodson, didn't you?"

"Claire and I fought, so I left and went to my brother's house. But I couldn't fall asleep, so I went out to Jenny's motel, just to talk to her a while. But I accidentally fell asleep and—"

"What?" Earl's composure slips. "Are you telling me you spent the night with her? Jesus Christ! Not again. What the
hell
is wrong with you?"

Something inside Jack flares at Earl's question. "What the hell is wrong with me? Everything!" He's shouting but he barely notices. "I haven't done a damn thing and everyone is treating me like a fucking criminal. I can't sleep, I can't eat.

My wife looks at me like I'm a feral animal she can't trust, but one she allows inside anyway because if she doesn't feed it, no one will. My father-in-law would just as soon shoot me than have me spend one more minute in his daughter's presence, not to mention his

grandchildren's, but he can't legally do
that
, so instead he's trying to have my law license revoked. A girl I trusted and welcomed into my home has decided to make me the fall guy for whatever crap she's got herself wrapped up in, and because of that, I'm facing a lengthy prison term for a crime
I didn't commit
.

Isn't that enough?"

"Jack, calm down—"

"For the last month, while trying to defend myself against charges that I
raped
a child
, I've been trying to juggle the needs of a very public job, a bitter wife who can't even tell me she believes I'm innocent, a conflicted son who knows I am but for some reason won't discuss it or tell me what I need to know to end this, another son who's confused as all hell, and a woman who might be guilty for a crime for which another man is facing execution. But wait, maybe she's not, and yet somehow I'm expected to be the one to throw her to the lions. And I've been trying to do all this on a few hours sleep each night. So forgive me if I'd reached the end of my rope." His anger depleted now, he leans back wearily.

"I was about to collapse from exhaustion, okay? I hadn't been sleeping. I even tried at my brother's house. It didn't matter. I couldn't sleep anywhere."

"But you were able to sleep at Dodson's?" Earl asks. The question is no longer an accusation, but an attempt to understand.

"Yes, but
it was an accident
," he says.

"And that's all I did. I slept. For nineteen hours." They hold each other's gaze.

"You know, everyone is so quick to judge my actions, but until you've walked in another's shoes—"

Earl raises his hand. "Fair enough."

"And your question about my

constituents? Frankly, I think the better question is, do
I
think my actions were right, given the circumstances."

"Fine, I'll bite. Do you?"

Does he? He tries to analyze everything objectively. He thought he'd done the right thing when he drove Celeste home.

She'd never given him any reason not to trust her. Even Claire wouldn't have had a problem with the decision if the assault allegations hadn't been made. She would have been grateful he let her sleep. He'd been dishonest with her afterwards, but at the moment of decision, all he'd wanted was to regain his son's love and not give Claire another reason to mistrust him.

Had he not been arrested, his claim that Michael drove Celeste home would have been just one more of the many

innocuous white lies that long term couples tell each other to keep peace.

Even his decision to steal the page from the notebook was an impulse he doesn't regret. Anyone who claims he would make a contrary decision in the same position would be lying.

But what about how he'd handled

Jenny's return to town? He tried to be upfront with Claire, and she'd told him she understood his need to know the truth. He can't deny that he mistook mere dormant feelings for dead, but once he realized it, he tamped them down at every turn. Yet, if it had been anyone other than Jenny, would he have done things

differently? He knows he did the right thing four years ago when he came forward as soon as he discovered Jenny's full relationship to her murdered client.

Even though he kept her recent

reappearance secret, the decision gave him an unusual opportunity to discover the truth once and for all. If he'd refused her plea for help, he's confident she would have gone underground again before trusting anyone else, and any advantage he had would have slipped from his grasp.

Of course, the warning he gave her a few moments ago served the same

purpose, didn't it? Even the knowledge that she'd probably played him again didn't stop him from effectively handing her the keys to her own jail cell. It's the one decision he can't justify. How can the DA, of all people, admit that he doesn't trust the system?

"I believe most of the decisions I've made since the night I took Celeste home have been the right ones. And even the ones I might not be proud of . . ." He hesitates. "I'd make them again."

This admission surprises Earl. "Care to tell me which decisions those might be?"

As if Beverly were waiting for the cue to save Jack, the phone on the desk beeps and her sympathetic voice fills the room.

"Jack, Gunner's here. Should I show him to your office?"

Jack and Earl stare at each other. Earl understands Jack won't answer his last question. And they both know there's not much Earl can do for Jack at this point.

"Please do."

Let the party begin
.

Gunner enters Jack's office looking pale and tired. He's always been slightly overweight, but tonight his jowls hang a little lower and the bags under his watery eyes are more pronounced. Seems Celeste and Jenny are taking their toll on the Chief, too.

Gunner is accompanied by a detective Jack recognizes but whose name he can't remember. The detective has been in the murder division for about as long as Jack has been at the prosecutor's office, and before that he worked in sex crimes. He's one of the best.

"Jack," he says with a small nod. He sees that Jack doesn't remember his name.

"Bill Sumner,” he adds and offers his hand. “We worked on the Soulard case together."

"That's right, I remember." Jack also remembers that he liked Sumner. The man worked as hard on that case—where a cop solicited a prostitute and then murdered her when she wanted more money for keeping her mouth shut—as he would have on any other case. He didn't investigate any differently when he learned the perp was one of his own, and he didn't assign less worth to the victim as some on the force might have. In his eyes, a prostitute's life was just as valuable as a nun's. Unfortunately, his stellar ethics will probably work against Jack.

Earl explains to Gunner that he won't stay. Jack gives up his chair so Gunner and Sumner have a place to sit, but instead of taking the chair behind his desk, he props on the windowsill that Earl vacated.

"I'll be in the conference room," Earl mouths to Jack before he slips into the hall and closes the door behind him.

To Jack's surprise, Gunner stares at him with genuine concern. "If you'd rather wait until you bring in another attorney, I—"

Jack cuts him off with a shake of the head. "Let's just get started. This is all off the record, right?"

Sumner breathes deeply and shifts in his chair, an obvious signal to Gunner that he disagrees.

"Gunner," Jack says before Sumner speaks, "if it's not, I might as well take the Fifth. What's your goal? Do you want to find her to question her? Or do you want to take me down?"

"We simply want to question her."

"Then it has to be off the record."

Gunner glances at Sumner and nods.

Jack waits until Sumner gives him a similar assurance.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything," Sumner says. "Have you seen her? Do you know where she is? Can you contact her?"

"I'll answer all your questions, but first answer one of mine." Even though the detective had asked the questions, Jack directs his to Gunner. "Where'd you get your tip?"

"A state trooper." Gunner studies Jack for a reaction. Jack merely nods. "It was a bit serendipitous. He was in court on another matter and overheard some local cops talking about you. Not surprisingly, Dodson's name came up, too."

Jack finds it ironic that his decision to stop on the shoulder, a decision made because he was worried about Jenny's well-being, is the decision that gave her away. That gave both of them away.

"He did see us," Jack confesses. "He didn't recognize her, though. I'm pretty sure of that."

"He didn't, you're right. He had only vague knowledge of what had happened a few years back. But when one of the cops brought up what she looked like, that she was part Indian, he began to put two and two together. That's when he called me."

"Are you the only one he spoke to? Or do those local cops know, too?"

"Just me, Jack. You're lucky. He liked you."

Jack's not feeling too lucky just now.

"So why were you with her? And how long have you been in contact with her?"

Jack turns to the window and looks down at the street below. He blows out a puff of air and it briefly fogs up the cold glass. "Where to begin?" he mutters to himself.

Gunner answers for him. "I suggest you start at the beginning."

He tells them how she surprised him in the tunnel. He tells them how he met with her, first in Hannibal, then in Mexico, and about the other visits to her motel room in St. Charles. He gives them the name of the motel, and the room number. He tells them about the letters, how Jenny claimed she was being

threatened, but that he only just came to the conclusion, earlier today, in fact, that she'd sent the letters to herself. He explains that he thought he had a better chance of finding out the truth if he kept her return to St. Louis to himself—at least until he knew more. He insists that Claire is aware of his meetings with Jenny. He tells them Jenny had been living at her brother's condo. He even gives them her alias.

He tells them everything they want to know until Sumner asks why Jack believes she sent the letters to herself.

"I can't answer that question without jeopardizing those who helped me with my investigation. I won't do that."

Jack's refusal frustrates Gunner, but he accepts it for now, which forces his detective to accept it, too. They all know a special prosecutor could haul Jack before a grand jury and force the answers out of him.

"Do you know where she is now?"

Gunner asks.

"No."

"Do you have a phone number for her?"

"Yes." He pulls up the number on his phone and holds out the screen for Sumner to write it down.

"Are you willing to let us see your phone records to verify what you've told us about your communications with her is true?"

"That's not a problem."

Gunner leans over and whispers to Sumner. The detective immediately pulls out his phone and begins texting.

"I'd like you to contact her now,"

Gunner says to Jack, "and make arrangements to meet with her again."

Jack swallows. The chief plans to do exactly what Jack feared. He plans to use Jack to bait Jenny.

"I don't think she'll be willing. When we spoke at my brother's house, I accused her of murdering Maxine Shepard."

Gunner smiles slightly. "Why don't you try?"

Jack takes his time pulling up her number and placing the call.

"She's not answering."

"Leave her a message to call you."

"She doesn’t have voicemail." He wishes she did, because then he'd know whether her phone is on or off by how quickly the system prompts a caller to leave a message. If the phone is off, Gunner's team can't locate her. "But maybe she'll see that I tried to call and she'll call back."

"See if they can triangulate her phone right now, will you?" Gunner says to the detective. "Let's see if we can find her and bring her in."

After Sumner steps out to the hallway, Gunner says to Jack, "So you accused her of murdering Maxine Shepard? You now believe she did it?"

"Honestly, Chief? I don't know. I was simply trying to get a reaction out of her.

I thought maybe I could judge whether she was lying to me."

"And?"

"I don't know what to think. If she did commit murder, I don't understand why she'd come back. It makes no sense. Why would she send herself threatening letters and then ask me to help find the sender?

And yet, I still get the sense she knows something she's not saying."

Gunner laces his fingers together behind his head, his elbows wide like wings, and regards Jack. "You know, Jack, I believe you're being honest with me. I wish you had come forward as soon as you knew she was back. It would have helped your credibility in your own case.

In fact, I think some would have even seen you as a hero if you'd been the one to turn her in."

"Turn her in? You talk as if there's an outstanding warrant for her arrest.

There's not, Gunner. At least not that I’m aware of."

"That's true." He shrugs. "But will the public care about that distinction? You have my word that nothing ever goes outside this room, but I can't speak for the trooper." He shakes his head regretfully. "I just don't know if you'll survive this. And I find that sad, because I think you're an incredible prosecutor."

The unexpected compliment moves

Jack. Unable to speak, he shows his appreciation with a slight nod. He turns back to the window, thinks of Jenny's question.
Do you enjoy it?
And his response.
I love it. I really love it
.