For the next two days, Adam kept himself in motion—sailing for hours, making notes for a piece on sectarian strife in Lebanon. Anything to keep away from Carla. Constantly, he wondered if the price of truth was losing her for good. Better for her and Liam if it was, he thought. In his confusion, he avoided Jack.
On the third day, a call from Hanley broke his thoughts. “It’s time for us to talk,” the district attorney said phlegmatically. “I’ll be in all day.”
Apprehensive, Adam arrived at Hanley’s office. The district attorney was in shirt sleeves, tie loosened, and greeted Adam with an impassivity that was impossible to read. On his desk were Adam’s laptop and cell phone.
“You can have these back,” Hanley said, giving Adam a shrewd look. “Not so easy to get your life back. Seeing how breaking and entering and obstruction of justice don’t sit so well with me.”
Adam wondered how to respond. Evenly, he said, “Suspicion isn’t evidence. You’ve still got no case.”
“You’re not impressing me,” Hanley retorted bluntly. “Forty years into this job, you learn to take chances if you think you’re right. There are worse things than losing, after all. I’m retiring in six months, and the death of Benjamin Blaine is the last big thing on my plate. Do I want to end my career, I keep asking myself, by walking out of here with a potential homicide unresolved? Hard for a man like me to just throw up his hands.”
“Wish I could help you, George. But I’ve got worries of my own.”
“True enough, and not just about me. Amanda Ferris really doesn’t like you. Use her like I’m sure you did, and she’s malevolent enough to hold a grudge.” Hanley shrugged this away. “Not that I mind when Ferris torments you. Though accusing Carla Pacelli of seducing you to get Ben’s money is pretty close to repulsive. Compared to you Blaines, Carla’s impressively straightforward, and she’s sure as hell not a gold digger.”
What was the reason, Adam wondered, for this discussion. “When it comes to women, you’re an excellent judge of character.”
“Actually, I am. So I can certainly grasp why you’re drawn to Ms. Pacelli. But the small matter of this inquiry surely complicates your relationship. Even before you throw in the National Inquirer.”
Adam chose to respond with care. “I’ve had better weeks, it’s true.”
“No more than you deserve,” Hanley responded flatly. “You’ve had your fingerprints on this case ever since you got here. I also believe that Jack or Teddy murdered a dying man—and that you know which one it was.” His phlegmatic words were etched with accusation. “Not hard to follow your calculations. If we go after Teddy, Jack’s testimony creates reasonable doubt. If we go after Jack, the physical evidence suggests that Teddy is a better suspect. But you’ve understood that all along, haven’t you. That’s why you told Jack what to say.”
It was so accurate that it took all of Adam’s training not to react. As his silence stretched out, Hanley nodded. “A less disciplined man would protest. But you’re too smart to bother, and it would only piss me off.” The prosecutor leaned forward. “In one sense, you’re a real altruist—sticking your neck out to cover up someone else’s crime. Guess you thought you could blow the whole thing by us.”
Still Adam said nothing. “Tell me who killed him,” Hanley demanded bluntly. “Then you can walk.”
Adam allowed himself a moment before sealing his fate. As calmly as he could, he said, “Sorry, George. No disrespect intended.”
“That’s what I expected.” Frowning, Hanley stared at him. “I’ve thought about you long and hard. I don’t like being gamed like this. But I’ve had a long and, I hope, honorable career, and I don’t want to end it by turning my personal pride into a vendetta. Ben did enough damage when he was still alive.
“The judge has been waiting until he heard from me. Guess I’ll have to tell him that I’ve failed.” Hanley sat back, finishing coolly, “I’m not pursuing you, Adam. I’m not pursuing your family. It’s done.”
Fighting back emotion, Adam stood. “Thank you, George.”
After the briefest hesitation, the two men shook hands. “Don’t forget your laptop,” the district attorney reminded him.
He found her on the deck, putting Liam in the bassinet. Seeing him, she became still, gazing at him so intently that it was a moment before he could speak.
“It’s over, Carla. No prosecution.”
Her lips parted, and then she looked down in confusion. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
“That I didn’t want you in prison. I’m grateful for that much.”
He felt his hope ebbing. “But what about the rest?”
She shook her head in amazement. “What on earth do you imagine I’ve been thinking about, over and over. Whether I can live with you—with this.”
Adam tried to read her, but could not. “Can you?”
“I keep trying to imagine it. But at least I know who you really are, and how hard you tried to make things right—including for Liam. Ben was already dying, and I can’t expect you to turn in your own father.”
Was it still possible? he wondered. Searching for words, he heard himself saying, “I’m free to do what I want now. If writing works out, I’d be traveling to hard places, not working in an office. No Blaine has ever done that—not our grandfather or Jack or Teddy, and certainly not Ben. For better or worse, in that way I’m like he was.”
Though she did not move, Carla met his eyes. “Do you think that one eluded me? You’re curious and restless—a risk taker. But I want my own life, so it’s fair that you have yours.” She paused, her voice becoming husky. “I’d love to ponder the implications of your new career. But don’t you suppose there’s something else I might actually want to hear?”
All at once, he understood, like sudden knowledge in a man not smart. “My emotional equipment is rusted out,” he confessed. “So this is hard for me.”
“Just do your best, Adam. Try to remember you’re asking me to live in the middle of a Shakespearean drama. Maybe I’m a single mother, but I’m reasonably intelligent and not bad looking. So a little effort from you might help.”
Stunned, Adam tried to summon his resources. “All right, Carla. I look at you and see so many things. Both of us have been damaged; both survived. Both of us knew Benjamin Blaine. But we understand each other better than you and he ever could.
“You’re smart, self-aware, honest, and empathic. You got to this point the hard way, and I respect you more than any woman I’ve ever known.” He moved a step closer. “I can see so much in your face now. I thought you were beautiful when I met you, and now it’s just insane. I can’t imagine not making love with you. I can’t imagine not being with you.”
Carla watched and listened so intently that it seemed her life depended on it. “I could live without you if I had to,” he hurried on. “But there would always be something missing. I’d wake up in the middle of the night, and want to tell you something. I’d look at a woman across the table, and wish that she were you. I’d wonder what you were doing, and how you are. You’ve taken up residence inside me, and the only way to live with that is to live with you.”
As he took another step forward, her eyes welled up again. “I want you to have a life outside us,” he told her, “one that you own and can take pride in. I want to help raise Liam. If we have our own kid, that’s great. If not, we already have a family, and I mean for it to be the one we never had and always wanted.” His voice steadied. “I’m in love with you, Carla Pacelli. Whether or not we’re together, I’ll love you all my life. So I’d really appreciate it if . . .”
Suddenly she came to him, letting Adam hold her, as though needing to feel that again. “If you can try,” he heard her murmur, “I can. That’s all I can tell you now.”
Tilting his head back, Adam saw her expression of deep resolve. The stunning gift of his good fortune struck him all at once, so completely that he could not speak, caught in the rush of possibilities he had thought were lost to him. Then he remembered that someone else was there.
“Don’t let go the thought,” he managed to say, and went over to the bassinet. Picking up her infant son, he asked, “What about it, Liam. Think you can get used to me?”
In response, Liam stared at him for a moment, then gave a cavernous yawn. Behind them, Carla laughed with a lightness that gave him hope. “Don’t worry,” she assured him. “As Liam’s mother, I can feel his enthusiasm.”
Adam sat with his family in the living room of their house, its heavy furniture and third-world art still redolent of Benjamin Blaine. “There’s something all of you need to know,” he said. “Carla and I are leaving here, together.”
His mother sat straighter in her chair. Seeing this, he told her, “I’m sorry about how you feel. But we mean to have a family of our own.”
Sitting beside her on the couch, Adam’s father looked relieved. Quietly, he responded, “That’s something you should want, Adam.”
And you never had, Adam thought. “Go for it, bro,” Teddy was saying. “I wouldn’t ask any of us to pick a partner for you.”
Adam faced Clarice again. “Do the best you can with this, all right? It’s my life now, and this is what I want. More than want—need.”
Seemingly bereft, she averted her eyes. “How do you expect me to live with this?”
“However you decide to. I can’t make that my problem—or Carla’s.”
For a time his mother was silent. At last she murmured, “I really don’t have a choice, do I?”
“Not since you chose to have me,” Adam told her. “For which I’ve been more grateful lately.” Turning to Jack, he said simply, “Thanks for everything, Jack. It means a lot to me.”
He could not say more; the others did not know. But his father’s expression made Adam glad that he had spoken. Standing, he said, “Well, I’m off. I’ll let you know when we get settled.”
He embraced each of them in turn, his mother a bit stiffly. Then Adam walked away from the home of his past, into his own life.