AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I hired a criminal defense lawyer for him. Name is Arnie Waugh. He’s supposed to be the best. Name of the firm is Dexter, Split and Waugh. They’re on St. Paul Street.”
“Okay, fine. Does Simon need to dress up, or—”
“Whatever he’s wearing is fine.”
“Okay.”
For a moment his tone softened. “Thanks, Jamie.”
“Of course.”
“See you at two.”
I went downstairs and told Simon. He was sitting on his bed, his legs under the comforter, headphones on and laptop in front of him. He looked up, irritated at the interruption.
“Your dad called. Your lawyer wants a meeting.”
I made him get changed, into slacks, a button-down, and a sweater. I wore a black dress to the knee, with a jewel-green cardigan with dramatic bell sleeves so that I didn’t look too funereal, and heels. The photographs of Andrew carrying Leanne to the car the day before had already hit the papers. The story was hot again, and as a result we had more photographers and journalists at our gate. When we drove out past them, Simon sat up tall in the seat. He looked confident and relaxed and not at all like someone who’d been accused of the most terrible crime. I was pissed at him for going behind my back to meet Grace, but I was proud of his attitude. It takes guts to stand up under that kind of pressure.
“They’ll get bored soon and move on,” I said, as reassuringly as I could. He gave me a sideways glance.
“Not if I’m charged.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“We can’t know that for sure, Mom.”
For a moment I couldn’t speak. He was, of course, right. There was no way of knowing where things would go from here.
“I know that you didn’t do anything wrong,” I said, firmly. Did I sound like I believed it, or like I wanted to believe it? Andrew had said that Simon had hit Nina. He’d said it like it was a fact, like he had evidence, but it was all bullshit, wasn’t it? Just his worry and grief talking. I felt a fluttering kind of nervousness. Simon shifted his weight on his seat and turned to look out the window. I wondered why Rory had asked me to drive Simon, when Simon could easily have driven himself. Maybe the lawyer wanted to talk to me too. Or maybe Rory was worried about Simon being out there alone, afraid, and unsupervised. I reached out and took Simon’s hand in mine.
“Your dad is a very smart guy, with a lot of resources. He loves you more than anything in the world, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you safe. That’s not nothing, Simon. I think maybe that’s everything.”
Instead of pulling away, Simon let his hand sit in mine for a long moment before squeezing my hand briefly and disconnecting.
“Thanks, Mom,” he said. He said it absently, like he was in no way engaged in our conversation. Like I was a child he was patting on the head, a child with no understanding of what was actually going on. I felt afraid. Like there was something coming. I tried to shake the feeling off.
The lawyers’ offices were so fancy that I figured they must charge a fortune. The building itself was brand new, but the floors were herringbone parquet, with the dull gleam of a heritage floor. Reclaimed, probably. The lobby was very large, but there were only two sets of chairs, upholstered in fashionable greige bouclé and sitting far apart from each other. There was a single large abstract artwork on the wall. The artwork was a mass of clashing colors, all the more attention grabbing for being installed in such a muted room. There was a long, polished walnut reception desk, and the receptionist was young, attractive, and impeccably groomed. Her hair was dark and tied neatly at the nape of her neck, her eyebrows were perfect, and her nails were short and so dark they were almost black. She knew me on sight, though we’d never met.
“Mrs. Jordan, Mr. Jordan.” She stood up to greet us. “Your husband is waiting for you upstairs. Please, let me escort you.”
We followed her to the elevator, which took us quickly to the fourth floor. We emerged into a much busier space than the one we’d just left. As she led the way down the corridor, we passed open-plan spaces occupied by slick-looking young people in suits, and glass-walled offices. We found Rory sitting in a large corner office, with views across the city to the water. He stood up and gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. His eyes met mine, briefly, as I pulled away, and something passed between us. An understanding, I thought, about just how messed up this situation was. A commitment to get through it together. Or maybe I was just reading too much into things.
“Jamie, Simon, this is Arnold Waugh. Arnie has agreed to represent you, Simon.”
Arnie Waugh offered his hand, and Simon and I took it in turn and shook gravely. Waugh had blond hair, a little long but styled back from his face. His features were chiseled, and he was lean. His fingernails were trimmed neatly. He looked like the kind of guy who started his day with a 6:00 A.M. row on the river. The kind of guy who spent his summer at his grandmother’s home on the Cape. How had he ended up in Burlington?
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Waugh said. “Please, take a seat, make yourselves comfortable.”
We all sat, except for Waugh. He leaned against his desk and faced us. There was a moment of awkward silence.
“Arnie was just telling me that the police have been in touch,” Rory said. “They asked if Simon would be willing to give up his phone voluntarily, so that they can review his location and search history.”
All three of us turned to look at Simon. He shifted in his seat.
“Is that... but isn’t that an invasion of privacy? I mean, I want to help, but that seems over the top. My whole life is on my phone.”
There was an awkward pause, then Arnie clapped his hands together briskly. “That’s exactly my own view, Simon. But let’s put a pin in this conversation for a moment. Rory, Mrs. Jordan, if you don’t mind, Simon and I will adjourn to another room for our consultation.” He turned to me. “I’ve already explained to your husband, Mrs. Jordan, that my meetings with Simon have to be private, in order that he enjoys the full benefit of attorney-client privilege.” He stood up and put out a hand to usher Simon from the room. “Someone will be in momentarily to get you coffee.”
