“No,” Myron said. “You have my word on that.”
It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t necessarily a full truth. But it wasn’t a lie.
Jeremy pitched in. “Maybe we can help, Grace.”
Grace moved toward the window and looked out over Central Park. “You said someone is out there murdering people. What do you mean by that?”
“You know about Jordan Kravat. You know about Cecelia Callister and her son Clay. There are others.”
Grace turned away from the window. Jeremy looked at Myron.
“What do you mean, others?” Jeremy asked.
Myron moved toward Grace, wanting her to turn and make eye contact. “Joey Turant didn’t grab your son just to get revenge because he testified against him. If he had, your son would be dead by now. He wants Bo to change his testimony.”
“And once he does?”
“What really happened to Jordan Kravat?” Myron asked. “We need the truth now. It’s just us in the room here. I’m an attorney. You can hire me if you want that kind of protection. Jeremy can leave—”
“No,” she said. “I want Jeremy here.”
“Do you need some water?” Jeremy asked her.
“I’m fine, Jeremy.”
“You can trust Myron,” Jeremy said. “Maybe he should have minded his own business or whatever. I get that. But you need to tell us what really happened.”
“Your father,” she said. “He didn’t want you involved in any of this.”
“I know,” Jeremy said. “But it’s too late for that now. You need to talk to us.”
Grace sat down. Jeremy took the seat across from her. Myron stayed standing, trying to move out of her eyesight. Grace clearly trusted Jeremy. She might open up more if Myron faded into the background.
“What Greg and I told you before was all true,” she began. “Donna Kravat’s club got all mobbed up. Jordan was a big part of it. Bo got caught up in it and couldn’t find a way out. It got bad between them. One night, Jord said he had a plan for how to get them both out from under. He said that he still loved Bo and if they could just make this one last move, they’d be free from the mob and could be happy again. I didn’t know any of this at the time. If Bo had come to me, I would have told him not to go that night. And I think even Bo didn’t believe it. By now, he had already decided he was going to work with the cops. We told you this. Bo was going to turn informant. That was his way out.”
Grace looked now at Myron. Myron nodded, keeping his face even. He wanted her to keep talking.
“Some of this is speculation on Bo’s part. So bear with me. As soon as Bo got back to the house that night, he felt like something was wrong. Jord poured them both bourbons. That was the Kravat drink — Jord and Donna are from Louisville and love bourbon. They were big Maker’s Mark drinkers. But Bo... he knew that Jord used to roofie guys at work to make them, uh, compliant. Some customers got off on that. Jord used to joke about it, call it a Gay Cosby. Sick, right?”
“Very sick,” Jeremy said. He leaned forward. It felt odd to see his son in this position, but of course his son was a highly trained military officer. Myron watched in awe and pride but there was also a pain here, pain for what he had missed, pain for what he realized he’d never get back or know.
“So when Jordan wasn’t looking,” Grace continued, “Bo switched their glasses. So if the drink was spiked...”
“I get it.”
“And sure enough, Jordan started getting sleepy. He kept muttering to himself. Bo said at one point Jordan was smiling and his head was lolling back and he kept saying ‘Bye, bye, toe’ and ‘Joey’s coming’ and laughing.”
She sat back now. Her hand fluttered up toward her face. She blinked away tears.
Jeremy’s voice was soft, confident, soothing. “What happened next, Grace?”
“He left.”
“Bo left the house?”
She nodded. “After Jordan passed out from the sedative, Bo left.”
“What time?” Jeremy asked.
“I don’t know. Around midnight maybe? Does that matter?”
“No. Go on.”
“He’d been renting an extended stay on East Harmon Avenue.”
“Okay, so that’s where he went?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“He watched TV. He tried to sleep. He called me at one point and said he was scared. I told him to come over and stay with us, but he said he’d be okay.”
“Where were you?”
This was all Jeremy asking the questions. Myron just kept silent and tried to make himself invisible.
“Greg and I were staying at a suite at the Bellagio. We told you before. We’d come to town hoping to help Bo get free before we headed overseas.”
“Right,” Jeremy said. “Of course. Go on.”
“At five in the morning, the police knocked on Bo’s door. They told him Jordan Kravat had been murdered.”
“In court,” Jeremy said, “Bo claimed to have seen Joe Turant leaving the house.”
“That...” She stopped, took a deep breath. “That wasn’t true. They made him say that.”
“Who is they?”
“The police, the district attorney... I don’t know. One of them, all of them. Once the DNA tests came back tying the murder to Joey Turant, the cops went nuts. They’d been trying to nail Joey for so long and now they had the goods. But the DNA wasn’t enough. All science and no emotion or something like that. They wanted to make sure it was a slam dunk. So they went back to Bo. They wanted him to testify that he’d witnessed Turant leaving the house that night. When Bo said he didn’t want to, they added threats. They’d tell Turant that he cooperated. They’d prosecute Bo on the lesser charges they had on him before all this. So really, what choice did my son have? You tell me.” She looked up at both men. “What else could he have done?”
“Nothing,” Jeremy said. “Your son had no choice.”
“He didn’t want to testify.”
“I understand.”
“And remember,” she said. “Turant did kill Jordan Kravat. The cops made that clear. It wasn’t like he was putting an innocent man away. They had the evidence. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind.”
Jeremy nodded. “Okay, so let’s skip ahead to a few minutes ago. You talked to Bo on the phone?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And he’s with Joey’s people. They want him to tell the truth to the press. Show the corruption of the police. And if he goes public, they promise not to hurt him. And yes, I believe them. If they hurt him now, then the police can claim Joey the Toe forced him to change his story.”
Myron couldn’t tell whether this argument was coming from a place of hope or reason. She seemed to be trying to convince herself, which made total sense. But so did the argument. Win had said something similar. Bo changing his testimony would only work for Joey Turant if Bo stayed alive, healthy, and did not appear to be under duress.
A phone buzzed. Jeremy grabbed it, looked at the screen, frowned.
“Everything okay?” Myron asked.
“Fine. But I need to take this. I’ll be back in a second.”
He headed into the other room, leaving Myron and Grace alone.
For a moment they both looked away. Myron felt awkward standing there. He wasn’t sure what to do here, so he stayed quiet.
“He’s a good man,” Grace said. “Jeremy, I mean.”
Myron nodded.
“As soon as I called him about his father, he caught the next flight out. He was here in three hours.”
They sat in uncomfortable, heavy silence.
Then she said, “I know biologically he’s your son.”
Myron didn’t reply.
“I know what you and Emily did,” Grace said with something approaching disgust in her voice. “Greg just told me a few days ago.”
Myron said nothing.