“You’re better off with another lawyer,” Jason insisted. “Somebody without the conflicts.”
“Thanks for your time,” Lassiter said, his voice cold. Before Jason could respond, his friend hung up the phone.
Jason walked over to the window and stared at the street below. He rubbed the back of his neck and watched the small flakes of snow dot the afternoon sky, a novelty in Richmond, particularly in December.
Was he intimidated by Robert Sherwood? A little. Was that the reason he had turned Lassiter down? Not really. It was a business decision. Jason had acted in spite of fear many times in the past. If he had to take on men like Robert Sherwood, he would do it.
At least that’s what he told himself.
This wasn’t the case of a little guy like Lassiter being taken advantage of by a powerful man with all the resources. If it were, Jason would feel compelled to intervene. Wasn’t that one of the things he had learned at Justice Inc.-the Robin Hood philosophy of justice?
No, this was just a business dispute, and Jason didn’t need to get in the middle of it. Besides, Andrew Lassiter would land on his feet. The guy was a certifiable genius.
But the questions wouldn’t go away-that gnawing in the pit of his stomach. Was he just scared? Was he betraying a friend?
It was just a business dispute, he reminded himself. Between two grown men.
24
The day before Christmas, Jason boarded a plane in Richmond for his second flight to Atlanta in less than two weeks. He ended up sitting next to a mom and her elementary-age son, who was excited to see his grandparents. When Jason deplaned in Atlanta, Hartsfield-Jackson was jammed with people, thousands of smiling and excited faces dragging kids and luggage through the terminals. Jason always felt an extra stab of loneliness and envy this time of year.
What would it be like to go home to a normal family-a mother who showered unconditional love on her kids, a father who didn’t try to control and manipulate, a sister who was there more than once every three years?
He would never know. For Jason, this Christmas would once again consist of arguments with his dad, followed by long periods of uncomfortable silence. The traditions and expectations of Christmas had a way of magnifying family shortcomings, like watching an episode of Father Knows Best followed by The Osbournes.
On his way to the baggage claim, Jason checked his messages. His father had called. He would be working the three-to-eleven shift, covering for an officer whose wife had been recently diagnosed with cancer. Detective Corey would pick Jason up at the airport. His dad left Corey’s cell number and said he was looking forward to seeing Jason later that night.
From the tone of his father’s voice, Jason doubted it.
Detective Matthew Corey was one of the youngest-looking forty-five-year-old men Jason knew. For starters, Corey spent about ninety minutes a day in the gym, tossing around the big plates, sculpting his muscles and toning his already impressively flat abs. He had thick dark hair, bushy black eyebrows, and skin that looked like it belonged on a shaving commercial. The only concessions to his age-particularly to his twenty-two years on the Atlanta police force-were the wrinkles starting to spiderweb away from the corners of his eyes.
“Thanks for coming,” Jason said.
“You’re family,” Corey said. He put on his turn signal and pulled away from the curb. “You’re lookin’ great,” he added, without conviction. It was a perfunctory greeting from a man whose favorite hobby was checking himself out in the mirror. He was probably fishing for a return compliment.
“You look like you’re getting a little flabby,” Jason responded.
Corey smiled. “Always the smart aleck. Glad to see law school hasn’t changed you.”
Years ago, as a rookie, Matt Corey had drawn Jason’s dad as his patrol partner. At least two times and maybe more, depending on who was telling the stories and how many beers they had polished off first, Jason’s dad had saved Corey’s life. Even after both men were reassigned-Jason’s dad as a homicide detective, Corey to the narcotics unit-they had remained tight.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for your dad,” Corey had told Jason. “ Nothing. I mean that.”
On the way to the house, they filled the ride with idle talk-Jason’s job, the investigations Corey was handling, Corey’s family. Corey had a need to impress even someone as insignificant as Jason, so he spent a fair amount of time bragging about this case or that drug bust, especially the arrests where the suspects put up a fight… and lived to regret it later.
When they were about five minutes from the house, the conversation turned to Jason’s dad.
“He’s drinking more,” Corey said. “Alone. And he’s been missing work.”
The news didn’t surprise Jason, but he was at a loss about what to do. His father had been drinking for years. The alcohol made him brood and loosened his tongue. He lashed out at those who tried to talk with him about it. Jason’s solution was to stay away.
“He’s proud of you, Jason,” Corey said, keeping his eyes on the road. “He probably never says anything to you, but he’s always bragging about you-his son, the big-shot lawyer.”
If Corey had just said he’d married the queen of England, Jason wouldn’t have been more surprised. Jason’s dad never said such things around Jason. He only criticized, always nitpicked. Words of praise were not in his vocabulary.
“That surprises me,” Jason said.
“He would rather have you wearing the white hat, of course. But he’s still proud of you.”
He hides it well, thought Jason. Nevertheless, he appreciated Detective Corey’s telling him this. It might make the next twenty-four hours a little more bearable. All Jason had ever gotten from his dad was a deep sense of disappointment. He wanted Jason to play football, but Jason chose soccer. He wanted Jason to become a Navy SEAL, and Jason wanted to act. When Jason entered law school, his father talked about the prosecutors he respected. Now Jason was a defense attorney.
They reached the house, and Corey pulled into the driveway. “It’s great to see you doing so well,” he said. He turned and looked straight at Jason. “I’m glad you took advantage of your second chance. I knew at the time you were a good kid.”
Jason had been half expecting Corey to bring up that night from ten years ago, the night that had changed Jason’s life forever. It was the night he learned that cops sometimes write their own laws. But still, the words made his stomach clench.
Once every few years, Corey mentioned it. Jason sensed the detective was trying to make sure his secret was still safe, that Jason still acknowledged a debt he could never fully repay.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Jason said. He stared out the front window, the guilt pressing in on him. This was the reason he didn’t like being around Corey; it was a constant reminder of the worst night of Jason’s life. “Good kids don’t betray their friends.”
“Everybody makes mistakes,” Corey said emphatically. “And one stupid mistake shouldn’t haunt you for life.”
Jason nodded. He knew there was no sense arguing the point. He ought to be grateful to Detective Corey, not resentful.
“I know,” he said.
He swallowed the words he really wanted to say. It’s haunting me for life anyway.
25
Jason only made it home once or twice a year. The last few times, he had been struck by how much the place had changed. It was a small, one-story brick house in one of the few older Alpharetta neighborhoods. Jason’s father had bought the place to escape the home that held so many memories of Jason’s mom.
