Locust Lane(88)

“Okay.”

“They found traces of Christopher’s DNA in the victim’s vagina.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I’m running out of options here, Michel. At the end of the day the prosecution is going to show the jury pictures of a dead girl who looks like God invented the sun to shine on her. They’re going to want to blame somebody for that and I’m afraid when the bottle stops spinning it’s pointing at your boy.”

He paused. Choosing his words now.

“And there’s something else, and I say this with all due respect. Your son isn’t necessarily white. Some people are going to look at him and they’re going to think the marathon. They’re going to think the towers.”

“We’re Catholic. He’s French.”

“Yeah, well, this is Massachusetts. There are Catholics and then there are Catholics. As for being French, let’s just leave that one alone for the time being. Michel, take a look around. We’re not exactly living through the Age of Enlightenment. There are a lot of crazies out there who aren’t big believers in reasonable doubt. Or reasonable anything. And they love to sit on juries.”

“What happens if we lose at trial?”

“Worst case? Life. Best case fifteen.”

“So what do we do?”

“Conventional wisdom says the DNA and yesterday’s events would harden their position. But this is Emerson and it’s turning into a shitshow and I guarantee you the people who run this place, one of whom happens to be named Parrish, do not want shitshows. Staying out of the limelight has served them very well for the last few hundred years. They’ll be willing to travel pretty far to keep it that way.”

“What does that mean? Specifically?”

“Your son pleads guilty to voluntary manslaughter. We explain the DNA by saying they were fooling around. Seems like they’d accept that. It’s not semen, which helps us a lot. They were close, that’s known. People had seen them kissing before. But on this night they start to engage in foreplay and then she tells him she isn’t into it. They argue, things get heated. He’s young and unschooled in the ways of the heart and he loses it for a few seconds. He didn’t intend to kill her. There was no blunt instrument, no clenched fist. It was just a shove. Most of what happened to Eden was an accident.”

“And if they accept?”

“Fifteen years up front. That’s mandatory. But that would get lowered to five once the circus moves on. Christopher gets out, he’s in his midtwenties.”

Michel couldn’t imagine it. And yet he knew he had to.

“Talk to your son, Michel. He needs to understand the stakes.”

“How long do we have to decide?”

“The door’s open ’til the end of the week.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Michel said. “But I’m not happy about this.”

“Yeah, well, happiness is a bit of a reach for us all at this point.”

Cantor called the district attorney before leaving the house, arranging for Michel to see his son that afternoon. It was outside normal hours, but they were willing to make an exception. Michel was no longer a combative parent. He was now a potential ally.

At the jail, they gave them a room reserved for lawyers. There was no guard, no time limit. The only decor was a poster listing all the things they couldn’t do. Christopher was unshackled when they led him in. They embraced, violating rule number one. His body felt limp, without substance.

“So somebody got shot at Jack’s place?” he asked before Michel could speak.

“His name was Patrick Noone. He was a customer. You’d remember him. He said he saw Jack outside the house around the time Eden died.”

“Damn. But that’s good for us, right?”

“People are saying he was crazy.”

“Right. Of course.” He met his father’s eye for the first time. “So. You and Hannah’s mom.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“She’s married, Dad. What do you think Mom would say?”

“She wouldn’t like it. At all.”

His son stared at him, making another readjustment to his universe.

“So why are they letting you see me today? It’s not our time.”

“I’m going to tell you something, but before I do, I want you to…”

“Cantor thinks I should plead guilty.”

Michel reared back in surprise. Who was this knowing, world-weary young man currently sitting in front of him?

“They found DNA in her. Yours.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“It’s just hard for him to understand how to defend you.”

Christopher stared at the table, his eyes losing their focus.

“It’s bad in here,” he said. “I wish I could tell you it wasn’t. It’s boring most of the time and then it’s really scary. And the next place is supposed to be a million times worse.”

The next place.

“Are they hurting you?”

“Not yet.”

Michel wanted to ask him what he meant, but he wasn’t sure he could bear the answer. Christopher met his eye.

“So how long is he saying?”

“Five years.”