Sins of the Fathers (26 page)
“Like Mr. Jones, only at third base.”
“I guess. I’m not much of a baseball fan.”
“There’s no pattern, is there?”
“Random. Wits say he seemed to be shooting at random, and everybody was scattering. What difference does it make?”
“I don’t know. But something better make a difference, and soon. You want another Dr Pepper?”
“Sure. Might as well be up all night with you.”
Lindy got two more cold cans from the fridge, handed one to Roxy. “So how are things with the boyfriend?”
Roxy sighed. “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”
Lindy’s eyebrows went up. “Explain that to me, will you?”
“It means that I haven’t asked and I don’t know how to tell. He’s been quiet lately—”
“Uh-oh.”
“He’s been under some pressure. I can understand.”
“Or so he says.”
“He means it! He’s a good man.”
“How do you know? How does anybody really know anybody else?”
“You’re a fine one to talk.”
“What’s that mean?”
Roxy’s mouth opened but no words came out. She was looking over Lindy’s shoulder. Then she pointed to the TV.
Lindy was on. Entering the courthouse.
“Oh, great.” Lindy sat and watched the highlights of the hearing. The reporter’s voice-over—Sean’s voice—said, “It didn’t take long for defense lawyer Lindy Field to heat things up in what was an emotionally charged courtroom.”
Lindy watched her video-self confront Officer Glenn.
This is not
a joke, sir. Answer the question.
And the answer.
It
’
s obvious to me, and I think it would be to anybody
who wasn
’
t a lawyer.
The story cut away to a clip of Darren being led from the courtroom by a deputy sheriff. Sean’s narrative continued.
“He didn’t show the rest!” Lindy said. “I won a motion to strike!”
“ . . . had an effect on the family members of the victims,” Sean was saying. “I spoke to one after the hearing.”
Lindy recognized the woman, the one from the church, the one who sat glaring at her in court, wearing the VOICe button. The caption identified her as Mona Romney. Her eyes looked tired, but her voice was strong.
“I don’t see how they can allow it. The defense lawyer is only interested in badgering the witnesses, trying to get them upset. What she did to Mr. Jones was horrible, putting him through all that. And then trying to make a police officer look bad. It’s so disturbing to have to sit there and watch that.”
Lindy watched silently now, her mouth open, as Sean addressed the camera.
“All indications are, however, that defense lawyer Lindy Field has no intention of going soft on any witness. This trial is going to be a fight over every detail and every word. Relief for the families of the children gunned down is still a long way off. This is Sean McIntyre downtown. Back to the studio.”
“Wow,” Roxy said. “That Sean.”
“I’ll strangle him.”
“It’s like he’s out to get you. What’s up with that?”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”
9.
A soft but persistent knock rapped on the door. Mona looked out the peephole. She should have expected this.
She opened the door.
“I hope you don’t mind my just dropping by,” Pastor Clark said.
Pastor Clark wore his sincere face tonight. It was probably unfair to think of him as putting on a face, but she didn’t care to revise her feelings. She would accept his presence as the good gesture of a good man who would come and go, leaving her precisely where she was before he came.
Mona, stoic, settled him in the living room. She did not offer anything to drink. He placed his Bible on the table as he sat down. Mona looked at it as if it were a weapon he might pick up and point at her.
“I just wanted to come by and let you know that I, the church, all the resources we have, are here to help you.”
“Resources?”
“Yes.”
“Like psychological counseling?”
“If you want that, then we have some people who—”
“I don’t want it. I’m fine.” She was not fine. She knew it. But would not bend the cold steel of her resolve. To weaken now would hurt Matthew.
“I know in times like this it’s very difficult to think things through, and if—”
“Have you ever lost a child, pastor?”
He shook his head.
“Then you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He took the hit without the slightest frown. “I’m not going to argue that point. I will not pretend to know what you’re going through. But maybe you can hear me out on one thing? And then I’ll go.”
“Fair enough.”
“I’ve been to many homes, Mona, and I’ve sat with people going through all sorts of things. And even though I have not experienced everything they’ve experienced, I do believe I’ve been called by God to minister to people, and to do it through the Word.”
He paused. Mona waited for him to get it over with.
Pastor Clark picked up his Bible and placed it on his lap. “The Word says something that’s very hard, but is, I think, the key to the whole thing. It says to forgive those who have sinned against us, and I believe when we do that, God takes hold of us and brings us out of the depths.”
His words came into her head and died there. She nodded, wishing he would go.
“You know as well as I do the emphasis Jesus placed on forgiveness.”
Mona nodded, meaning nothing by it.
“If you can forgive the boy who did this, Mona, I know God will work in you. And in your family.”
“Isn’t that why you’re really here? Because Brad asked you to come?”
“Brad’s your husband, and I know he loves you deeply.”
“Did he ask you to come see me?”
Clark swallowed and said, “I would have come anyway, Mona. I hope you believe that.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“May I have a word of prayer with you?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Just a short—”
“Thank you for coming.”
1.
Sean lived in a secure building, which meant that Lindy had to wait for someone to come out. She smiled at a young man as she caught the door. He seemed oblivious. A perfect urban role model.
Lindy took the elevator to the sixth floor. At Sean’s door she gave a friendly knock then covered the peephole with her hand.
After a moment Sean’s voice from inside said, “Who is it?”
“Domino’s,” Lindy said.
“What?”
“You ordered a pizza.”
“I didn’t—” The door opened. “I thought that was you,” he said.
Lindy pushed past Sean, who was shirtless, wearing only a pair of jeans. “We’re talking.”
“You saw my report, I take it.” He followed her into the living room. “I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be. And don’t start with your little-boy routine.”
“You know, you could get in trouble breaking into this building.”
“I want you to lay off.”
Sean smiled and ran one hand over his abs, which were, truth be told, rock solid. Why did men in L.A. who were halfway hot have to be jerks? “Let me get you something to drink, and we’ll talk about this civilized.”
“Sean, I don’t want to be civilized with you. I want to know why you’re out to make me look like a dummy. I want to know who’s grinding your ax.”
He shook his head.
“You’re taking sides in this,” she said. “Why? You used to be a pretty objective reporter. You have somebody you’re trying to please? Your boss? The DA’s office?”
“I’m no shill, Lindy.”
“You didn’t used to be. Why don’t you get back on track and be a real reporter? Why don’t you—”
“Where do you get off coming over here and telling me how to do my job? What have you ever given me?”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“Yeah, the great Lindy Field, tough broad. Why don’t you drop the pose for once, huh?”
She wanted to slug him. She bit her cheek instead. “Don’t talk to me about posing. What was that whole setup, interviewing that witch who slammed me?”
“That ‘witch’ is a woman whose kid was shot in cold blood by your client. You don’t have the right to question anything that poor woman has to say.”
Lindy opened her mouth but no words came out. She fell back on a chair, wanting to disappear into it. She didn’t care if she vanished here at Sean McIntyre’s place or somewhere else. Place had no meaning. No place was a refuge.
The one thing she didn’t want was to cry in front of him.
Sean heaved a sigh. He sat on the arm of another chair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say all that.”
Lindy looked at the window.
“No, I really did mean to say those things. I meant to hurt you, Lindy. I guess I wanted to get back at you.”
She was barely able to say, “What?”
“Yeah. You hate me for some reason. You don’t want to do anything for me. Sure, I’ve been a bonehead at times. I admit it. But never because I didn’t respect you.”
Lindy shook her head. It was hard to believe anything coming out of Sean McIntyre’s mouth.
“Maybe what I’m trying to say, in my own inimitable way, is that you need to let other people into your life a little, and then give a little. You can’t do any of this alone.”
“You pretty well made that case.”
“Would you be willing to try something?”
She looked at him.
“Try treating me like a human being again? A professional?”
“Professional what?”
“Writer. Lindy, I want the exclusive inside on this kid, and you can give that to me. And in return, I can give you something.”
“What can you give me?”
He stood up. “Come here and I’ll show you.”
2.
What Lindy saw on Sean’s computer monitor almost knocked her over.
It was the image of Darren DiCinni, in the park, rifle aimed.
“How did you get this?” Lindy said.
“I can’t reveal my sources.”
“But this . . . who took this?”
“My source.”
“Yes, but how—”
“I can’t go into it.”
“Sean, this is crucial, this—”
“Sit down, Lindy.”
Sean snatched a black T-shirt from the back of his desk chair and put it on. “If I let you look at this, I want you to give me the exclusive rights to your story and your client’s. This is going to be a major book, and I want it. That’s the professional part. And I’ll want a deal on paper.”
“We talked about this. I can’t reveal confidences.”
“You can reveal yourself. You can talk to me about your thinking on the case. I want to walk through it with you. And you can tell me what you can about your client, whatever you’re allowed. I won’t do anything with it until after the trial is over.”
“What you have on your computer is evidence in a murder trial. I can have it subpoenaed.”
“You try that, and I hand it over to Colby.”
“You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”
Sean shrugged. “I figured I’d talk to you about it first. I just didn’t figure it would be tonight. But thanks for coming over.”
“There might not be anything here that really helps me,” Lindy said.
“Maybe not. But you’ll never know, will you?”
“I don’t know whether to spit in your face or thank you.”
“Thank me. Do we have a deal?”
“You can’t use anything I say until after the trial.”
“Agreed. Deal?”
“Sure, now let me see—”
“No. A deal. Signed and sealed.”
“I can’t do that now.”
“If you give me your word you’ll do a written agreement, we’ll go ahead with this.”
