Betrayed (Rosato & DiNunzio, #2)(81)

“Not wonderful enough,” Frank said, pursing his lips, but without rancor in his tone.

“Wonderful enough, but that’s not the point.” Judy flashed unaccountably on what her mother had told her, about how nature couldn’t be denied. “We’re just not a good pair. We don’t fit together so well, when it comes down to it.”

“But we love each other.”

“We do, but we’re not right for each other.”

“That sounds like something a lawyer would say,” Frank said, with a shaky smile.

“There’s a reason for that.” Judy felt her eyes film. She’d come here for comfort, not to end their relationship, but it looked like it was happening and she knew it was the right thing.

“Well. Okay.” Frank exhaled, angry. “I certainly don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t appreciate me. I don’t have to.”

“I agree, you don’t, and you shouldn’t.”

“You’re making a huge mistake.”

“I could be, I know,” Judy told him, meaning it.

“But you’re doing it anyway.”

“I have to.” Judy meant that, too, somehow.

Frank met her eye, wounded but still proud. “So that’s that?”

“Yes.”

“You’re something, Carrier,” Frank said, shaking his head, pained.

“I’m sorry.”

“Gimme a hug, woman.” Frank raised his arms for a final embrace, and Judy almost melted.

“I’d love to,” she said, with feeling.





Chapter Thirty-five

Judy got off the elevator and walked through an empty reception area, barely glancing at the gleamy ROSATO & DINUNZIO plaque, feeling lost and rudderless. She hadn’t known where else to go except to work, because she didn’t want to go home and deal with her mother, or rather, her aunt. The lights were on in the office, but she doubted that Bennie or anybody else was in, because the only sound was a vacuum cleaner and the cleaning staff never started until the lawyers had gone.

She took a right down the hallway and spotted the black electrical wire running into her office, so she ducked her head in and waved to the cleaner, an older woman who looked up, startled, then waved back with a reassured smile. Judy turned around and walked down the hall to her new war room, where she paused in the threshold, taking in the scene. Allegra must have worked her little buns off because the cardboard boxes were gone, evidently broken down and whisked away. Instead, red accordion files, each one representing a separate case, were lined up on the conference table in three rows, like so many legal dominoes. Next to them sat a stapled list.

Judy walked over, set her purse on the table, and picked up the list. New Matters, it read at the top, and she skimmed the list of case captions, organized in alphabetical order: Morris Abellmen v. Bendaflex industries, Inc., Sam Atwater v. Bendaflex industries, Inc., Melissa Baxter v. Bendaflex industries, Inc. She flipped the pages idly, coming to the end, which was case number 76, Jennifer Zwitz v. Bendaflex industries, Inc.

Judy set the sheet down, reached for the first accordion file, and pulled out the pleading index, a long binder that held all of the papers filed with the Court during the case. She sank into a chair at the head of the conference table and flipped through the cleaning index, skimming the Complaint, the defendant company’s Answer, and an endless series of interrogatories, losing focus as she read on. She kept thinking of Frank, hugging her one last time. Then her mother, talking about the problem. And Aunt Barb, lying alone in a hospital bed, afraid that she would die before she could answer the questions of her only daughter. And poor Iris, whose death could be mourned, if not completely understood. And a priest, a man of God, dead.

Judy let the pleadings of index flop closed, and her thoughts finally came to rest on Domingo, the young man who had translated for her at the barracks. Her heart went out to him, and Iris, Frank, her mother, Aunt Barb, and Father Keegan as she eased back in her padded chair and faced her damages cases. She realized that she was surrounded on all sides, by all sorts of damage. In her work, in her family, in the man she loved, and in the world entire.

She closed her eyes, feeling a wave of exhaustion and profound sadness wash over her, not for herself, but for everyone. And when she felt herself drifting into sleep, she let slumber come, surrendering.

She woke up to the sound of her cell phone ringing and opened her eyes, trying to orient herself. She was still in the conference room, and the windows were still dark, so it was before dawn. Her cell phone rang again, the sound emanating from her purse, and she reached for it, worried. The call could have something to do with Aunt Barb.

Judy opened the flap to her purse and quickly pulled out the phone, and the screen said 5:06, with an UNKNOWN NUMBER in the 999 area code. “Hello?” she said, rubbing her face to wake up.

“Miss Judy, is that you?” asked a man with a thick Spanish accent, and Judy recognized the voice, though he was slurring his words as if he had been drinking.

“Domingo?”

“Yes, Miss Judy, it’s me. I need to see you. I need to see you right away.”

“What about?” Judy wondered where he had gotten her cell number, then remembered it was on her business card, which she had given him.

“I need money, Miss Judy. I need money to get out of here. I need to go far away from these men, these bad men.”