Nothing.
She pounded harder. “Open the goddamn door!”
She raised her fist to pound again, and the door came open.
For a moment she thought she’d rung the wrong doorbell. An unshaven man in a soiled white T-shirt stood in the shadows. It took her a few seconds to recognize Matías.
He stared at her blankly for a moment; then recognition set in. “Why are you here?” he said.
“You goddamned son of a bitch,” she said. The blood jumped in her veins.
“This is a mistake. You shouldn’t be here.”
“You twisted bastard. I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”
Matías sighed. “Do what they tell you to do and all will be fine.”
She was surprised at the way he looked, so much sloppier and more unkempt than the polished, well-dressed man that night in Chicago. Worn down, it seemed.
She took a deep breath. What was the point in venting at the man? Instead, she could try to get him to talk. Before she became a judge, she was a highly regarded litigator. Before that, an acclaimed prosecutor. She knew how to work a witness. She used to do it for a living.
“We need to talk,” she said. “We can either do it out here or in there; it’s up to you.”
After a beat, he stepped back and held open the door. She entered the generic-looking living room of a one-bedroom suite. Nearly every surface — couch, chair, coffee table — was covered with take-out cartons or soda cans or beer bottles. A large TV was on but muted. There was an odor hanging in the air, a sour fermented smell with a sharp note of perspiration.
This is not normal, she thought. The man was not a slob; he had to be operating under stress. Her phone made a text-alert sound, but she ignored it. She looked at him and could see the tension in his face. Why hadn’t she seen it before? This was a vulnerability, and she’d go right at it.
“Okay,” she said. “Let me be very clear with you. I’m not going to be manipulated, I don’t care what it costs me.”
“All they want you to do—”
“I know what ‘they’ want, and I won’t do it. Here’s the bad news for you, Matías. I’m willing to sacrifice my marriage, if that’s what it takes. But I’m not going to be blackmailed.”
“You are in so far over your head,” he said. “You have no idea.” He didn’t say it in a threatening way. He sounded defeated.
“And you,” she said. “What do you think happens to your sister now?”
He winced visibly.
“Yes,” she said, “I know about Bianca.”
He shook his head slowly. Now she realized something else: the man was frightened. His eyes widened. “What do you know about her?” he demanded. “How?”
Her phone made another text sound, and she ignored it again. “I have my judicial sources. I know the Miami authorities dropped charges without prejudice, meaning that they can charge her again at any time.”
“These people — please, just do what they say. You have no idea what they’re capable of. These people will do anything — stage an accident, a suicide, whatever they need to do if they think you’re an inconvenience.”
“And who are they? Wheelz? Are they working for Devin Allerdyce?”
Matías laughed mirthlessly. “Devin Allerdyce knows nothing.”
“Then who?”
“I have no idea. They have people inside the Justice Department in Washington. They have people all over. It’s so much bigger than one corporation.”
“And they got their hooks into you through your sister?”
He nodded sadly.
“The opiates. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Our father was killed in the Dirty War, and she has never gotten over his murder.”
“You’re from Argentina.”
He nodded. “I went to law school in Chicago, and my sister went into a master’s degree program to become a physician’s assistant. In Miami. She worked at a spine clinic, and she started to have problems. She started to forge prescriptions to get OxyContin and that sort of thing. A couple of months ago she was arrested by Miami police. She was charged with obtaining a controlled substance by fraud, which is a felony offense. Meaning prison time. So I flew to Miami — I’m all she’s got — to be her lawyer, help her through the process. And that’s when they contacted me. They made me an offer.”
He hesitated. In the long silence she said, “Yes?”
“They would drop the charges against her if I did as they instructed.”
“How were you contacted?”
“A phone call.”
“And who was it?”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t given a name. He knew who I was, where I was. He knew all about Bianca’s legal situation.”
“What did they promise, exactly?”
“That all charges would be dropped. Just that.”
“And if you didn’t do... as instructed...?”
“She’d be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”
“So you — what? You forced yourself to seduce the old bag?”
“Oh, please. You’re an attractive woman. You know that perfectly well. That’s not the point.”
Her face turned hot. “Why is my ruling so important? What’s the evidence they’re trying to conceal?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I just keep my head down and do what I’m told, and my sister remains free.”
“I’m sorry I can’t help you. But I’m not going to be controlled. I have no idea how I’m going to rule,” she said.
“You don’t have a choice! They’re going to release that video. Listen to me. You and I, we’re just... chess pieces. We’re being played. Fighting them is pointless.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “Well, they picked on the wrong woman,” she said. “I will not be played.”
18
Outside the hotel, she looked at her phone and saw a series of texts that had come in from Duncan.
8:47: Where’d you go?
9:16: Hello?
9:23: Where r u?
9:36: going home.
At 9:36 a call had come in on her phone, no voice message left.
He’d looked around for her, texted and texted, and finally had given up. He was probably furious and justifiably so.
And what could she possibly tell Duncan by way of explanation? She couldn’t tell him the truth, of course. She scrabbled around for something to say, came up with a story about a college friend she’d run into who was in a very bad way. Yes, she should have checked the text messages as they came in, but she didn’t, she couldn’t tear herself away from a very difficult conversation. She mentally rehearsed this lie, this one lie atop a pile of lies, and she felt terrible about it.
But what else could she do?
At 10:30, her cab pulled up to her house. Some lights were on, on both the first and second floors. Presumably Jake was awake, but she wondered about Duncan. She’d tried his mobile a few times but had gotten no answer. Either he’d turned his phone off, which would be odd, or he was ignoring her calls. Which would be even odder.
When she entered the house, she called out quietly for Duncan and Jake but got no answer. Upstairs, she saw that Jake was in his bedroom — she could see the light under the closed door — and Duncan was in bed with the lights off. She entered as soundlessly as she could, navigating by the moonlight that filtered in through one of the windows, where he hadn’t closed the curtains all the way.
“What happened?” Duncan’s voice in the dark startled her.
“Oh — I’m so sorry about tonight. I ran into an old college friend who was in really bad shape. We got into an intense conversation.”