Hadley & Grace(91)

Hadley says nothing. She would hardly describe anything that has happened over the past week as remarkable. Tragic, awful, regrettable—all better-suited words for what has happened.

“Herrick is extraordinary,” Fitz goes on.

Hadley nods.

“She only made one mistake.”

Hadley lifts an eyebrow.

“The burner phone.”

“Her phone?”

“I realized she had one when Jimmy turned up. I figured out that Jimmy’s brother was the go-between, checked the phone records, and traced the phone back to the Walmart in Barstow.” He is animated as he talks, excited by his brilliant detecting. “I checked the surveillance tapes, saw that Grace used the computers, did a history search, and bam, there it was, ways to sneak into Canada.”

“Oh,” she says. Mark was right. Fitz is very good.

She looks down at the table, staring at a scratch in the table in the shape of an S. She wonders what made the mark as she thinks how disappointed Grace would be to discover her mistake.

“Why did you come alone?” she says finally.

“I wasn’t sure I was right, and O’Toole, he’s my boss . . . and he’s . . . well, he’s . . .”

“A jerk,” Hadley says. “Mark told me.”

“Exactly. And I didn’t want to lose my promotion in case I was wrong.”

She nods again.

“And as it turns out, I was only half-right.”

Hadley says nothing.

“Herrick has the kids?”

She traces the scratch with her finger, rubbing at it as if she can wipe it away. “None of this is Grace’s fault,” she says. “I want to tell you what happened, but I want to start by saying that I’m willing to cooperate, but not in incriminating Grace. Because none of this, and I mean none of it, is her fault. Grace was only at the office that night to check on the uniform order—”

The waitress sets the coffees and soups down in front of them.

“She caught me looking for the safe—”

“Stop,” Fitz says. “Eat.”

Hadley looks down at the steaming bowl of corn chowder, then looks away from it. “But I need to tell you what happened.”

“Eat,” Fitz says again. “Please. You don’t look so good . . . I mean you look great . . . you’re a good-looking lady . . . I mean . . . crud. Please, Mrs. Torelli, eat your soup.”

He blushes, his embarrassment plain on his young face, and Hadley thinks Mark was right to like this kid and to worry about him. He’s a little how she imagines Skipper might have turned out had the placenta that nurtured him not detached before it was time.

She takes a bite of her soup and, despite her current state, closes her eyes as it melts on her tongue and as its warmth spreads through her body. Neither of them speaks while she finishes.

When she’s done, she pushes the bowl aside and looks up at him.

“Better?” he says.

“Yes. Thank you.” Then, with a deep breath, she starts again, weaving a fabulous story in which she held Grace at gunpoint and ordered her to cooperate, then held Miles hostage to force Grace to drive them to the hospital, then Barstow.

“Mrs. Torelli,” Fitz interrupts.

She looks at him.

“We have you on video. At the office, at the hospital, and at the mall.”

“Oh,” she says, a blush rising. Then, almost desperate, she says, “But you have to believe me: Grace had nothing to do with this.”

“Okay. Well, then, how about you start again, and this time you tell me the truth.”

Hadley looks down at the napkin she is shredding and shakes her head. “Because then Grace will go to jail.”

“Prison,” Fitz corrects, and Hadley flinches.

“Sorry,” he says, holding out his napkin so she can wipe the tears that have sprung to her eyes. “I’m not trying to upset you.”

She shakes her head, no longer wanting to confess, afraid anything she says might be used against Grace.

“Start with the money,” Fitz encourages. “Did you know it was dirty?”

Hadley shakes her head. “I was just trying to leave. I had no idea Frank had that much stashed away.”

“And where is it now?” Fitz says, and Hadley feels her blood go cold, wondering if that’s the real reason he’s here. But when she lifts her eyes, all she sees is sincere concern on his face.

“Grace has it.”

“Makes sense,” he says; then he leans back, considering this new information. His eyes flick back and forth as he puzzles it out. “The car switch happened somewhere in McCook, probably at the silos. Then you and Herrick split up. She takes the money and the kids, and you hightail it to the border . . .” His eyes grow wide. “Because Herrick had another way out!” His face lights up. “She got out! And the kids were part of her cover: three kids instead of her and a baby.” He seems thrilled by the idea, and she realizes he is rooting for them. “Brilliant. A truly remarkable mind.” His grin fills his whole face, smiling as if he has a celebrity crush, and Hadley wonders if that is a thing, criminal admirers.

“None of this is her fault,” she repeats.

“Maybe,” he says, “but she might have a tough time convincing a jury of that. After all, she did shoot at a federal agent.”