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Authors: Richard North Patterson

Degree of Guilt (68 page)

BOOK: Degree of Guilt
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More silence. ‘I know of one reason,’ Mary answered. ‘The night before we testified, I told him I was pregnant.’
‘With Carlo, his son?’
The silence became longer. ‘With Carlo. Yes.’
‘When you told him, how did he react?’
‘We met by the Jefferson Memorial at night, so at first I couldn’t really see his face. But his words were clear enough.’ Her voice turned briefly sad. ‘He thought Carlo wasn’t his. He suggested I consider an abortion.’
‘And what did you say?’
Her tone sounded bitter. ‘That he must not think very well of me. And that I was keeping Carlo.’
Paget’s eyes shut. He felt Terri touch his arm. ‘It’s all right,’ she murmured. ‘That was all so long ago. You couldn’t know who Carlo would be.’
‘Then you didn’t want an abortion?’ Steinhardt asked Mary.
‘That’s what I told Chris.’ There was another pause, and then Mary’s voice became muted. ‘But if he hadn’t covered for me, what choice would I have had? Carlo would have had no father, and a mother in prison.’
‘Did you tell Chris that?’
‘No.’ Another pause. ‘I knew I didn’t need to.’
‘Why was that?’
‘Because I felt him start to take in the reality of it – that I might be pregnant with his child. He began to look at me differently, to ask how I felt.’ Paget heard an ironic smile in Mary’s voice. ‘He even said I should sit down. Like an inexperienced new father, not knowing what to do, amazed at the wonder of it all.’
Listening, Paget felt the moment again: the darkness outside the memorial; the woman he did not trust but who might have life inside her; the sense that his own life was about to change. He still felt shaken by it.
‘Did you love him?’ Steinhardt asked.
Paget sensed Terri’s gaze. ‘Yes.’ Mary’s voice was cool. ‘As much as I can love anyone.’
‘You think you’re not capable?’
‘Not head over heels. Not to the point where I lose control, or lose sight of what I want. I can’t let myself.’ Another pause. ‘I’ve never known whether that’s a virtue or a fault. It just is.’
‘Did you think that Chris loved you?’
‘I don’t know. In a lot of ways, Chris was
like
me – he’s very cool and controlled.’ Mary’s voice fell again. ‘It surprised me when he wanted to raise Carlo.’
Next to Paget, Terri slowly shook her head. ‘Mary never knew who you were,’ she murmured. ‘She still doesn’t.’
‘Perhaps he did love you,’ Steinhardt was saying. ‘Perhaps
that’s
why he helped.’
‘Oh, it was partly out of feeling for me, I think,
and
the baby I was carrying.’ Her tone changed again. ‘And partly because I could help him send Jack Woods to prison.’
‘Did you offer him that?’
‘I didn’t have to. He knew that if he covered for me, I would help him ruin Jack.’ Another pause. ‘And
I
knew how much he wanted that. Because I knew how much he hated Jack.’
Paget turned to Terri. ‘She did understand me,’ he said softly. ‘Much better than you think.’
‘But you testified
before
Chris did,’ Steinhardt probed. ‘You didn’t know what he would say.’
‘It was better that way.’ Mary’s voice turned cold. ‘Watching me testify, Chris saw what I could do to Jack. And he also knew that if he turned me in, I would be forced to protect myself instead of repeating my story at Jack’s trial.’ She paused again. ‘All Chris had to do was lie about me, and he would save a pregnant woman and destroy Jack Woods. I still don’t know which one he wanted more.’
Paget’s surroundings – the airy office, the panorama of the bay – seemed to vanish. All that he could imagine was Mary in the sterile room Terri had described to him, telling their secrets to a tape recorder. ‘She told me the truth,’ he said to Terri. ‘This tape does no more harm to her. But it would have ruined me.’
‘And Carlo,’ Terri answered. ‘Imagine him listening to this.’
‘Jack Woods,’ Steinhardt was asking Mary. ‘What happened to him?’
‘All the things that would have happened to me.’ Mary’s voice turned grim. ‘He pleaded guilty rather than face a trial. Three years in prison were the least of it. His career was ruined. He couldn’t even practice law.’
‘They took away his license?’
‘Yes.’ Mary paused. ‘Much worse, they took away who he was. When he got out of prison, he was no one.’
‘Did you ever see him again?’
‘Of course not.’ Mary’s tone was ironic. ‘By then I was on my way. In one day, Chris Paget and I destroyed Jack and launched my career in the media.’
‘Do you feel guilt about that?’
‘Not about
that
. Jack had blackmailed me into helping him because of what I already knew, until I was in far deeper than I ever wanted. I owed him nothing.’ Mary hesitated, voice softening again. ‘No, Doctor, I’m here for another reason. One we haven’t even touched on.’
Something in her tone made Paget tense. ‘Is it about Carlo?’ Steinhardt asked.
‘Partly.’ Her voice was hesitant. ‘But it’s also about Chris. And me.’
‘That dream,’ Steinhardt said. ‘You’re in the church in Paris, asking forgiveness for your sins. Is your sin giving Carlo to Chris?’
There was a long silence. ‘Yes,’ Mary answered softly.
‘Has Chris been a good father?’
‘I think so.’ Mary’s voice sounded parched. ‘I’ve tried to stay out of the way. After years of trying to keep him away from Carlo.’
‘I don’t understand, then. You believe Chris to be good with Carlo. And in the dream, you’re asking forgiveness
before
you give Carlo to Chris. Not after.’
There was a long silence. ‘You’re an intelligent man, Doctor. But there’s something I haven’t told you. Or anyone.’
‘And what is that?’ Steinhardt asked.
To Paget, Mary’s silence was like the intake of breath. Then, very coolly, she answered, ‘Chris isn’t Carlo’s father.’
The next moment was a blur. Terri’s pale, stricken face. Feeling himself bend forward. Steinhardt’s dry voice, asking the next question as if nothing had happened.
‘Who
is
the father, then?’
Another silence, as if Mary could not bring herself to answer. Through his shock, Paget felt Terri’s hand on his arm. ‘Jack Woods,’ Mary answered in a trembling voice. ‘Chris’s enemy. The man we sent to prison.’
‘Oh, Chris.’ Terri’s voice was anguished. Looking up, Paget saw the tears in her eyes.
It doesn’t matter, he wanted to say. But he found he could not speak the words. Or any words at all.
‘Why didn’t you tell Chris?’ Steinhardt asked.
Through the static, Mary’s voice was faint. ‘At first, I wanted him to protect me. So I let him think the baby was his, to save myself.’
‘And later, when you gave up Carlo?’
‘Chris flew to Paris, full of worry. He’d seen how Carlo was, living with my parents. I’d tried to put it out of my mind, tell myself it was temporary. Chris couldn’t do that.’ Her voice was soft. ‘We sat at a café in the shadow of St Germain-des-Prés, the cathedral in my dream, while he begged me to give him Carlo. And when that didn’t work, he blackmailed me. For the son that was never his.’
Paget covered his face. Some deeply irrational part of him wanted to turn back the clock and erase the tape from his mind. But when he felt Terri reach for it, he grasped her hand. ‘It’s too late,’ he said softly. ‘For fifteen years, it’s been too late.’
The tears ran down her face. ‘I did this,’ she murmured. ‘I did this.’
He shook his head.
‘I
did. When you were younger than Carlo is now.’ He saw Terri swallow; the tape spun inexorably on – silence, then static, then silence again.
‘Did you think about telling Chris then?’ Steinhardt finally asked. ‘In Paris?’
‘I couldn’t bring myself to do it.’ Her voice fell. ‘I took the coward’s way out. I tried every way I knew to discourage him. Just as I’d refused any help from him once Carlo was born. But this time, nothing worked.’ The irony returned, this time mixed with sadness. ‘He was Carlo’s father, he told me. He was willing to sacrifice his marriage to save him – his own reputation, even. And mine.’
‘How did that make you feel?’
‘That Chris would do anything he had to do.’ Her voice softened again. ‘And that in the end, I’d given Carlo the right father.’
‘The right father,’ Paget murmured, ‘for Jack Woods’s son.’
As Terri took his hand, Steinhardt spoke again. ‘Was that why you let him go, Mary?’
There was silence. ‘I let him go,’ she finally answered, ‘because Chris made me think. About who he really was, and who I wanted Carlo to be.’ Her voice became sad, yet certain. ‘You see, I realized that Chris wasn’t really like me, after all.’
In the quiet that followed, Paget shook his head. ‘Then what is your sin?’ Steinhardt asked.
‘That I could let my son go,’ she said softly. ‘And that I lied to Chris twice. The first to save myself, the second to save Carlo.’
‘Did you feel you were saving Carlo?’
‘I thought of my own childhood. What Chris said about the damage to Carlo scared me.’ She paused. ‘But not enough to give up my career. Only enough to give up Carlo, and to use Christopher Paget one more time. And the only thing I can say to myself is that when I did it, I was thinking more of Carlo than of either Chris or me.’
‘Have you thought of telling Chris
now?
’
There was more silence. ‘I always do,’ she said, in muted tones. ‘But I tell myself that it would hurt them far too much.’ She paused again. ‘They love each other now. With every day I allow to pass, it would hurt them more.’
‘Then why are you so troubled?’
‘Because I could lie about that. Because I could do what I did. Because I’m not troubled enough.’ Her voice fell. ‘Because there’s something missing in me, and always will be.’
Through his anger and anguish, something in Paget found the words both sad and frightening. On the tape, Steinhardt asked, ‘How does that make you feel?’
‘Free,’ Mary answered softly. ‘Free, and very alone. Like no one can touch me.’ There was another pause; for a moment, Mary sounded close to tears. ‘What Chris could do for Carlo, I could never do. I could never feel enough. I only feel enough to stay away from them. To not face what I’ve done.’
Perhaps, Paget thought, Mary was crying, but too quietly to be heard. Then Steinhardt asked, ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m leaving.’ Mary sounded weary, but composed again. ‘I came here wondering if I should tell Chris the truth. But I can’t.’
‘That’s not the only reason to seek help.’
There was a final silence. ‘There’s no help for who I am,’ Mary said quietly. ‘And never will be.’
Terri let go of Paget’s hand. A moment later, at the margin of his consciousness, he heard her switch off the tape.
Paget sat there alone.
The central act of his life, the raising of a son, had no more meaning than his lies to the Senate. They were the acts of a fool, mired in vanity and self-deception.
Did you ever love someone, he had asked Terri, so much that it hurts?
Elena, she had told him, and Paget had answered, For me, it’s Carlo.
Jack Woods’s son.
He did not realize that he was crying. Then Terri took him in her arms, pressing his head between her breasts, her face resting on the top of his head.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered.
When he looked up at her, she brushed the hair back from his forehead with her fingertips. ‘What can I do?’ she asked.
‘I need to be alone with this,’ he said. ‘It’s a lot to sort out.’
She nodded. ‘What will
you
do?’
‘I have no idea.’ He paused. ‘About anything.’
Terri let him go. For a moment, she stood next to him, hand resting on his shoulder. Then she started toward the door.
She stopped there, turning. ‘She’s right, Chris. You’re not like her. That’s why it all happened.’
He could think of nothing to say.
‘I’ll be in my office,’ she told him and left, closing the door gently behind her.
Chapter 3
Without makeup, Mary’s eyes seemed hollow, her face drawn. She had the strung-out look of a woman too wired to sleep. Finding Paget at the door seemed to startle her, as if the hearing had eaten through her nerve ends.
‘What do you want?’ she asked.
Paget simply stared at her. Softly, he said, ‘You seem to have lost your tolerance for surprises.’
Mary stared from the doorway, like a woman wrenched from her private space by someone who was threatening her. She made no move to ask him in. ‘Shouldn’t you be preparing your argument?’ she asked.
‘I seem to be having trouble with it.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘And you’ve come here for my help.’
‘In a manner of speaking.’
She paused, waiting for him to say more. He said nothing.
Finally, she stepped aside. The gesture was grudging, almost angry. When he walked to the middle of the suite and turned to her, she still held the door.
‘You might want to close that,’ he said.
Slowly, she did. She stood, gazing at the doorknob, as if reluctant to face him. There was a new fragility to her movements, Paget thought.
Turning, she squared her shoulders. ‘
You’re
behaving strangely,’ she said.
‘Am I?’
‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘I really don’t appreciate this.’
‘What, precisely?’
‘Your just showing up. What is it you want?’
Paget gazed around him, choosing a place to sit. The drapes were drawn; there was nothing of Mary in the antiseptic room. It was as if personal possessions were clues, to be hidden from intruders.
‘The truth,’ he answered. ‘I’d prefer to hear it sitting down. But you can stand there if you like.’
He walked to the couch and sat, gazing up at her with a look of mild interest. ‘You can start anytime,’ he said. ‘I’ve got till ten o’clock tomorrow.’
BOOK: Degree of Guilt
10.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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