Of course, Jamie had to see his father, and she made sure that happened. She delivered her son to Matt at the appointed time, on the dot. Not that he ever returned her son on time. But it was Alex's view that the world stabilized one person at a time. If she did her part, she felt eventually others might do theirs.
At work she was called idealistic, impractical, unrealistic. She responded that in lawyer-speak,realistic was another word fordishonest. She stuck to her guns.
But it was true that sometimes she felt she limited herself to the kinds of cases that did not challenge her illusions. The head of the firm, Robert A. Koch, had said as much. "You're like a conscientious objector, Alex. You let other people do the fighting. But sometimes we have to fight. Sometimes, we can't avoid conflict."
Koch was an ex-Marine, like her father. Same kind of rough-and-tumble talk. Proud of it. She'd always shrugged it off. Now she wasn't shrugging anything off. She didn't know what was going on, but she felt pretty sure she couldn't just talk her way out of it.
She was also sure nobody was going to stick a needle into her, or her son. To prevent that, she would do whatever had to be done.
Whateverhad to be done.
She replayed in her mind the incident at the school. She hadn't had a gun. She didn't own a gun. But she wished she had had one. She thought,If they were trying to do something to my son, could I have killed them?
And she thought,Yes. I could have killed them .
And she knew it was true.
A whiteToyota Highlander with a battered front bumper pulled up. She saw Amy sitting in the car. Alex said, "Jamie? Let's go."
"Finally!"
He started toward their apartment, but she steered him in another direction.
"Where're we going?"
"We're taking a little trip," she said.
"Where?" He was suspicious. "I don't want to take a trip."
Without hesitation, she said, "I'll buy you a PSP." She had steadfastly refused for a year to buy him one of those electronic game things. But now she was just saying whatever came to mind.
"For real? Hey, thanks!" More frowns. "But which games? I want Tony Hawk Three, and I want Shrek - "
"Whatever you want," she said. "Let's just get in the car. We're going to drive Amy back to work."
"And then? Where are we going then?"
"Legoland," she said.
The first thing that came into her mind.
Driving backto the office, Amy said, "I brought your father's package. I thought you might want it."
"What package?'
"It came to the office last week. You never opened it. You were at trial with the Mick Crowley rape case. You remember, that political reporter who likes little boys."
It was a small FedEx box. Alex tore it open, dumped the contents on her lap.
A cheap cellular phone, the kind you bought and put a card in.
Two prepaid telephone cards.
A tinfoil-wrapped packet of cash: five thousand in hundred-dollar bills.
And a cryptic note: "In Case of Trouble. Don't use your credit cards. Turn off your cell phone. Don't tell anyone where you are going. Borrow somebody's car. Page me when you are in a motel. Keep Jamie with you."
Alex sighed. "That son of a bitch."
"What is it?"
"Sometimes my father annoys me," she said. Amy didn't need to hear details. "Listen, today's Thursday. Why don't you take a long weekend?"
"That's what my boyfriend wants to do," she said. "He wants to go to Pebble Beach and watch the old car parade."
"That's a great idea," Alex said. "Take my car."
"Really? I don't know...what if something happened to it? I got in an accident or something."
"Don't worry about it," Alex said. "Just take the car."
Amy frowned. There was a long silence. "Is it safe?"
"Of course it's safe."
"I don't know what you're involved in," she said.
"It's nothing. It's a mistaken-identity thing. It'll be worked out by Monday, I promise you. Bring the car back Sunday night, and I'll see you in the office Monday."
"For sure?"
"Absolutely."
Amy said, "Can my boyfriend drive?"
"Absolutely."
CHapter 057
Georgia Bellarminowould never have known, if it hadn't been for the cereal box.
Georgia was on the phone with a client in New York, an investment banker who had just gotten a DOE appointment; they were talking about the house he was buying for his family move to Rockville, Maryland. Georgia, who was Best-Selling Realtor of the Year in Rockville for three years running, was busy going over the terms of the purchase when her sixteen-year-old daughter, Jennifer, called from the kitchen, "Mom, I'm late for school. Where's the cereal?"
"On the kitchen table."
"No, it's not."
"Look again."
"Mom, it's empty! Jimmy must have eaten it."
Mrs. Bellarmino covered the phone with her hand. "Then get another box, Jen," she said. "You're sixteen; you're not helpless."
"Where is it?" Jennifer said.
Banging doors in the kitchen.
"Look above the oven," Mrs. Bellarmino said.
"I did. It's not there."
Mrs. Bellarmino told the client she'd call back, and walked into the kitchen. Her daughter was wearing low-cut jeans and a sheer top that looked like something a hooker would wear to work. These days, even junior high girls dressed that way. She sighed.
"Look above the oven, Jen."
"I told you. I did."
"Look again."
"Mom, will you just get it for me? I'm late."