“Oh no,” Jake said, but it came out like a moan. “That’s not a given, Ryan.”
“Yes it is, no doubt.” Ryan’s tone grew determined, and he stood up straighter. “There’s no other way. I’ll never tell, ever.”
Jake felt sick to his stomach, even though he was getting what he wished for, or maybe because he was getting what he wished for. “We can talk this out at home.”
“Dad, there’s nothing to talk about. Like you said, it’s a done deal. I can’t let you go to jail, just like you couldn’t let me go to jail.” Ryan smiled sadly, cocking his head. “You protected me, now I’m going to protect you. Guess I’m my father’s son, huh?”
Jake felt his heart lurch, at the irony. “But it’s my job to protect you. It’s not your job to protect me.”
“That made sense when I was a kid, but not now. I told you I’m not a baby anymore.” Ryan’s forehead eased, and his expression turned oddly accepting, almost peaceful. “I wanted an answer and I got one. I’m not going to let anybody else be punished for something I did, least of all, you. I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, too,” Jake said, and they faced each other, eyeball to eyeball, but not as they had before, in his bedroom. There was no confrontation now, and nobody was spoiling for a fight. Ryan wasn’t trying to declare his independence, and Jake wasn’t trying to hold on to any primacy he used to have as a parent.
They were both exhausted, trapped, and full of remorse. They were bound together not only by blood and love, but by guilt and lies. They were father and son, but they were also partners in crime.
Ironically, they had never been closer.
Chapter Fourteen
It wasn’t until he got home that Jake had a chance to eat something. He stood at the granite counter and spread lumpy strawberry preserves onto semi-frozen Ezekiel bread, glancing up at the television. A cop show was on, so he looked away and finished making his sandwich. He checked the over-the-counter clock. It was 10:58 P.M., and the local news would be on any minute.
“Mrfh!” Moose barked, his round brown eyes looking hopeful, the way they did whenever peanut butter was in the vicinity.
“Here, buddy.” Jake slid his index finger along the butter knife, swiped off some peanut butter and jelly, and offered it to the dog. Moose licked it happily, his tail swishing back and forth on the floor like a windshield wiper, reminding him of last night in his car.
I love how these wipers go on automatically! Dad, this car is sick!
Jake wished to God he had said no. If he had, none of this would have happened, Kathleen would be alive, and his son would be happy and carefree. As it was, Ryan was upstairs hiding in his room and getting ready for bed, so he’d be asleep by the time Pam got home. It was the only way he could avoid her cross-examination about the flu, his homework, or how he’d spent the evening.
Suddenly there was a commotion at the front door, and Moose scampered off, barking toward the entrance hall. Jake worried that it could be the police and hurried from the kitchen.
“Honey!” Pam burst through the front door, alive with excitement. She tossed her car keys, little purse, and black shawl on the console table, and Moose wagged his tail frantically.
“Hey, hi!” Jake tried to recover. “You’re home early.”
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Pam closed the door behind her. “I’ve been calling and calling!”
“I didn’t hear it, sorry.” Jake must have forgotten about his phone in the rental car. “What’s up? How come you didn’t park in the garage?”
“I didn’t bother, I’m in a rush! Where’s Ryan?” Pam was already heading for the stairwell, her high heels clacking on the hardwood. “Ryan, come down! Come downstairs!”
Jake didn’t like what was going on. This wasn’t the way he planned it at all. “He might be asleep, honey. He wasn’t feeling well—”
“Oh please. He’s been on the phone for the past hour.” Pam took off her high heels and placed them on one of the steps, to be taken upstairs. “Enough with the shoes. Showtime’s over.”
“Mom, what do you want?” Ryan called from his room upstairs.
“Come down, right now!”
“I’m in bed!”
“Come down, this is important!” Pam rolled her eyes and looked at Jake with a knowing smile. “He must be talking to the girl. I checked online and he’s on G-chat, too. Did he do his homework?”
“Some of it, I think.” Jake began to worry, wondering who Ryan was talking to on the phone and online. “He didn’t feel well.”
“He has a French vocab test on Tuesday, so he has to study in advance because of the playoffs.”
“Aw, cut him a break. He’s sick. He slept most of the evening.” Jake marveled that his wife always had Ryan’s schedule in the back of her mind, running on a parallel track with her own.
“Were you born yesterday?” Pam snorted good-naturedly. “He may have been in his room, but if he was on the phone and G-chatting, he wasn’t studying or sleeping.”
“It’s hard to focus when you don’t feel well.”
“Mom, what’s going on?” Ryan appeared at the top of the stairway and walked down slowly, running his hand along the banister and blinking against the bright lights of the hanging fixture in the entrance hall. His hair was messy, and he was dressed for bed in a maroon Chasers Nation T-shirt and pajama pants.
“Come down, I want to talk to you and your dad.” Pam beamed up at him, but Ryan avoided her eye as he descended the stairs, and Jake wanted to give him the heads-up.
“Ryan, Mom says you’ve been on the phone, but I thought you were asleep. You playing possum, buddy?”
“Nah, sorry.” Ryan looked away, and Pam threw open her arms when he reached the floor and gave him a big hug.
“I’m sorry you don’t feel well, honey. But humor me and come into the kitchen. I really need to talk to you and your dad.”
“What about?” Ryan asked, his tone offhand, as Pam released him from her embrace, took him by the arm, and led him into the kitchen in her stocking feet, with Jake and Moose behind.
“I have amazing news, truly amazing.”
“Great, Mom,” Ryan said, but Jake looked past his son’s shoulder to the TV on the counter, where the local news had just begun and the top story was being reported. STUDENT KILLED IN HIT-AND-RUN, read a lurid red banner across the screen, and an attractive African-American anchorwoman was saying, “A tragic story is first up tonight. A teenage jogger identified as Kathleen Lindstrom was struck and killed in Concord Chase last night, while running on Pike Road. Police believe the vehicle struck the jogger, then fled the scene…”
Jake crossed the kitchen to turn off the TV, but Pam grabbed his arm, beaming.
“Honey, sit down. Ryan, you, too. You have to hear this.”
“I was just about to turn off the TV—”
“I can’t wait another minute!” Pam motioned them into their tall stools at the granite countertop and hustled around the other side, standing in front of the oven and the television. Jake and Ryan sat down in their seats and faced a delighted Pam, against the backdrop of the news report of the heinous crime they had committed together.
The anchorwoman continued, “Lindstrom was a junior at Concord Chase High and she had just moved here from Seattle with her mother, Grace, but the duo had already made fast friends with neighbors like Dylan Paolucci, who lives next door.” The screen switched to footage of an older man standing in his threshold, saying, “I’m still shocked. I just finished talking to her. She was a good kid. Her mom is a doll. I cannot believe somebody would hit her and not even stop the car.”
Pam took a deep breath, barely able to contain her excitement as she looked from Jake to Ryan, and back again. “Guess what?”
“What?” Jake asked, but Ryan’s attention was riveted to the TV screen, which had returned to the anchorwoman, who was saying, “Police have no suspects at the present time, but they are looking for the vehicle, which is likely to ha
ve damage to its passenger-side fender and undercarriage…”
“Ryan!” Pam barked, with a mock frown. “May I have your attention? What does it take! Sheesh!”
“Sorry.” Ryan straightened up, and the TV screen changed to a remote report by a male reporter in a logo ball cap and windbreaker, standing on an otherwise darkened Pike Road, at the blind curve. He was saying, “The heartbreaking death of young Kathleen Lindstrom has brought new attention to this deadly blind curve on Pike Road, which residents have been complaining about to the Township Board of Supervisors for years. Traffic accidents happen routinely here, usually involving walkers, cyclists, and joggers, but last night’s was the first fatality…”
“Boys.” Pam made a drumroll sound, her blue eyes shining with happiness. “Tonight at the dinner, I found out that there’s about to be a new vacancy on the federal district court!”
“Really.” Jake could see in his peripheral vision that the TV screen had returned to the anchorwoman in the studio, but the enlarged photo behind her grabbed him by the throat. It showed Pike Road as a crime scene, with yellow plastic tape, red flares, and a black body bag being lifted on a gurney. The voiceover said, “If you have any information on the crash or the location of the alleged hit-and-run vehicle please call Concord Chase police at…”
“Guys, what?” Pam scowled, hurt. “Why are you being so rude? What’s so damn interesting?”
“Nothing, honey,” Jake answered, and Ryan swallowed visibly, but Pam whirled around to face the television, then watched the end of the news report, shaking her head.
“Oh. That is sad. Everybody was talking about it tonight. What’s the matter with people?”
“God knows.” Jake put an arm around Ryan, while Pam turned back to face them.
“Ryan, are you okay? You don’t look good. Do you have a fever?” She reached across the table and put her hand on his forehead sideways. She always had an uncanny ability to tell if he had a fever, so they called her The Ther-MOM-eter.
“No, Mom, I’m fine.” Ryan pressed her hand away. “Tell us your news. Please.”
Pam brightened again, nodding energetically. “Okay, anyway. Judge Medova is going to step down and become managing partner at Ringman Tesher.”
“Oh, interesting.” Jake didn’t know where her story was going, but he was finally able to listen, since the TV news had moved on to a dorm arsonist at Temple.
“And guess who’s the front runner to fill the vacancy?” Pam’s eyes lit up. “Me!”
“Wow,” Jake said, astounded.
“Can you believe it?” Pam squealed in delight.
“What’s this mean?” Ryan blinked dully, and Pam reached across the island and took his face in both of her hands.
“It means your mother is going to be a federal judge!”
“Great!” Ryan said, mustering up the requisite enthusiasm.
“Oh my God, honey.” Jake felt happy for her, went around the island, and hugged her hard. “Congratulations, I’m so happy for you, babe.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Pam hugged him back. “Can you believe it? Can you even believe it?”
“Sure, I can. You deserve it.”
Pam giggled delightedly. “The state court judges are always overlooked for the federal bench, except for Judge Spaeth, who was even considered for the Supremes. But since him, I don’t think there’s been anybody. Isn’t it amazing?”
“Absolutely amazing,” Jake said, meaning it. He leaned over and turned off the TV.
Ryan rose, placing a hand on the counter. “Can somebody explain to me what this is all about?”
“Sure.” Jake’s heart went out to his son, trying to rise above the circumstances for his mother. “Pam, tell your son what a big deal you’re about to become.”
Pam smiled, pleased. “There are two systems of justice in the country. There’s a state system, which I’m a part of, and it rules on questions of state law. State judges are appointed for a term of years, and they’re elected, which you’ve heard me say is totally ridiculous. Pennsylvania is one of the few states in the country that still elects judges, instead of having them appointed based on their qualifications and merits. It’s like a judicial popularity contest, and a corruption of the law—”
“Mom.” Ryan rolled his eyes. “Please don’t start with that again.”
Pam burst into laughter. “Okay, but as I was saying, the other system of the judiciary is federal, which decides questions of federal law.”
“Is one better than the other?” Ryan asked, sitting back down.
“Well, more important matters come before the federal bench. Questions of antitrust law, banking law, constitutional law, and First Amendment law, all sorts of big, complex questions.” Pam grinned. “Really cool stuff.”
“So it’s a big deal,” Ryan said, with a shaky smile.
“Yes,” Pam answered, beaming. “And another cool thing about it is that federal judges are appointed under the Constitution, for life. I never have to run for election again. That means no more county fairs, no more funnel cakes and hot dogs, no dairy and goat shows, no more sucking up to every petty potentate so I can do some good in this Commonwealth.”
Jake felt happy for her, but it was still hard to smile. He kept thinking of that news photo, with the body bag. Inside was Kathleen, whom they had killed. He tried to get his act together.
“But guess what, there’s no pay raise. On the contrary, I have to take a pay cut.” Pam snorted. “You know how you’ve heard me say Pennsylvania judges are among the top paid in the country? Believe it or not, a federal district judge makes fifteen grand less than I make now.”
“Really?” Jake was surprised. Pam made good money as a Superior Court Judge, but they didn’t talk salary in front of Ryan, so he didn’t ask her for an exact number. He didn’t care anyway, not really, not anymore. He was a financial planner who was learning that money wasn’t as important as he’d always thought. “So what happens now?”
Pam smiled up at him. “They nominate me, then I have to go before a Senate committee.”
“Mom, you mean like in Washington, D.C.?” Ryan asked, surprised. “That’s baller, G.”
“Yes, exactly.” Pam chuckled. “It’s a federal appointment, and it has to go through the Senate. It’s a long process, like years, and it’s very political, but in the end, I’ll be there forever.” She leaned over the counter to Ryan. “But listen, honey, you can’t tell anyone. It’s confidential. Don’t say anything to any of your friends, the team, or your teachers.”
Jake cringed at the irony. Ryan was keeping a wonderful secret to protect his mother and an awful secret to protect his father.
Pam continued, “Monday or Tuesday, they’ll press-release that Judge Medova is stepping down, but they won’t announce that I’m on deck until the preliminaries are wrapped up. The FBI has to come interview me and you guys, too. They do an in-depth background check of the family.”
Jake felt his heart stop. He had no idea what that would involve, but he was instantly worried about Ryan and he could see the blood draining from his son’s face.
“Mom, the FBI? Why do they have to interview me?”
Pam chuckled again. “Don’t worry, honey. It’s just procedure. You’ll do fine.”
Ryan’s lips parted. “But why do they have to investigate us? And what do they do, like, exactly?”
“Honey, don’t sweat it. It’s more for Dad and me. The FBI wants to find out if we do anything illegal, like hire illegal aliens or pay the cleaning lady under the table. But we don’t do that, and we never would.”
“But what do they do?”
“They talk to you, is all.” Pam waved him off, airily. “They do it for security reasons, and to avoid any surprises that might come up during the confirmation process, embarrassing everyone and putting a kibosh on my nomination.”
Jake put on his best reassuring smile. “Ryan, there’s nothing to worry about.”
Pam bubbled over, beam
ing. “Of course there isn’t, honey. I say we celebrate! Your father and I are having champagne, and you can have a ginger ale.”
“Great idea.” Jake winked at Ryan, trying vainly to lighten his mood. “I’ll get the champagne.”
“I’ll get the ginger ale.” Pam crossed to the refrigerator, glancing back at Ryan. “Don’t be such a nervous Nellie. We’ll pass with flying colors. After all, it’s not like we have anything to hide.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jake locked the front door, turned off the entrance-hall light, and walked to the staircase in darkness, heading up to bed. It was after midnight, and Pam had already gone upstairs, after Ryan and Moose. He and Pam had polished off a bottle of champagne, but it had only depressed his mood further. He started to climb the stairs, almost tripped over her high heels, then grabbed them on the fly and went up, leaning heavily on the banister.
He reached the second floor and bypassed the closed door to Ryan’s bedroom. His son needed sleep, and so did he. He made his way to his bedroom, slipped inside, and closed the door behind him. The room was empty, and he knew Pam was in the bathroom by the faint buzzing of her electric toothbrush. He brought her shoes to her closet, where he dropped them on the rug, catching a glimpse of her at her sink.
Pam’s back was to him, and she was bent over, rinsing her mouth, in a lacy black bra and tan bikini panties. His eyes traveled her shapely body, from the exposed nape of her neck to the cleft of her back, taking in the dimples above the lacy edge of her panties and coming to rest on her ass, which was perfect. In any other mood, Jake would have been turned on, but tonight he felt like the lowest of the low. Only hours ago, he’d met with a criminal lawyer and made a corrupt bargain with their son.
What are the odds that you’d get away with it?
Pam dried her face, spotting him in the mirror when she replaced the towel. “Caught you looking, honey.”