No Legal Grounds (5 page)

Linda was waiting for him in the living room, sitting with her arms folded, the universal sign of spousal disapproval.
“Heather’s not here?” Sam said.
“Did you expect her to be?”
“I’m just a little late.”
“Like an hour. Did you just forget your dinner date, or did you not want to go?”
“Come on, Linda. I left her a message.”
“I’m asking.”
“What do you think? Of course I just forgot.” Sam looked at the ceiling. “Was she very upset?”
“If stomping out of the house with tears in your eyes is upset, then yes, I would have to say she was.”
“And you just let her go?”
“Now don’t turn this around and put it on me.”
Linda had her iron-eyed look, the one that let him know what was quite obvious — he was being unfair. “I didn’t mean that. I’m talking about now. I want to know what she does when she goes out with these friends.”
“She’ll let us know when she’s ready. In the meantime I suggest you start rehearsing a speech. Convince her to pronounce you not guilty.”
“I just forgot. It’s not like I took her iPod away. That would be a national tragedy.”
“I don’t think trying to be funny is going to help the situation.”
“Is that really what you think I’m doing?”
“Isn’t it?”
“So you think I should wallow in guilt?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He stormed off to the study and closed the door with practiced finality. He didn’t want to argue with Linda about Heather tonight. He just wanted everything to be normal for once.
Maybe a little work was the ticket, digging in on the FulCo case. He first went to his email.
There was another message from Nicky Oberlin. He opened it with a sense of dread.

Hey, good buddy, it was sure great seeing you and tripping down memory lane. But I feel like we just sort of scratched the surface. Let’s do it again, what do you say? I know you’re the big busy lawyer and all that, but hey, remember I’m the guy who can help you. You want to say same time next Wednesday? Just lemme know.

No, Sam thought. I won’t just let you know. You’re going to have to find some other companionship, buddy. He deleted the email without answering.

He worked another hour, then turned everything off in the study. By the time he was ready to get to bed, Heather still hadn’t called. Now he wasn’t just worried, he was angry. Sure, he’d been wrong about missing their dinner date. But that did not give her the right to stay out and worry her parents.

And she wouldn’t answer her cell.
He decided he wasn’t going to sleep after all. He turned on the TV and found an old movie.
The Asphalt Jungle.
It was the story of small-time hoods trying to make a big score. Marilyn Monroe had a small part in it.
By the end of the movie, when Sterling Hayden dies while trying to get to his childhood home, the Trask household was still missing one daughter. He tried her cell phone again. No answer.
Linda came into the room, rubbing her eyes. “Is Heather home yet?”
That’s when Sam called the police.

At four forty in the morning, Heather’s anger seemed to hold added emotion. The only ones in the house who were getting any sleep were Max and Buzz, who slept in Max’s room. Everyone else was on the sharp edge of rage. Sam told himself to tread softly. He didn’t want to lose control at this critical juncture.
“It wasn’t
on
you, Heather, it was in order to find you.” “Don’t be a lawyer, Dad.”
“We didn’t know where you were.”
“You don’t need to know all the time.”
Her dark makeup made her seem hard, and she smelled of

smoke.
“As long as you’re living here I want to know where you go. We
have a right to know.”
Heather glared. “Then maybe I just won’t live here.” “Stop being foolish.” The treading softly idea was melting away
like wax on flame.
“You can’t stop me if I want to.”
She was right. The legal wrangling that could come from a teenager seeking emancipation fell to her favor. All Heather would have
to do was walk into a free legal clinic, get some forms, and file them
in court. Family law in California didn’t give parents many rights
anymore. Then, in the months it would take to get a hearing, she’d
turn eighteen.
After that she could live anywhere, do anything, without her
parents’ consent or even knowledge.
Sam looked at Linda, who was sitting on the sofa and seemed
ready to throw in the emotional towel. It was time for another retreat.
“It’s late,” he said. “Why don’t we get some sleep and talk — ” “I’m wide awake,” Heather said. “So now I want to tell you both
something.”
She’s pregnant. Don’t be pregnant!
“Sit down, Dad.”
Pregnant. If it was a sit-down announcement, that had to be it.
He joined Linda on the sofa. She took his hand.
Heather remained standing. “I know you guys love me and all
that, but I can’t keep going through this.”
“Through what?” Sam snapped. Linda squeezed his hand. “Like that, Dad. You want to control me. You guys mean well, I
know that, but you just don’t get me. Look, I’ve decided not to go
to college.”
It was only Linda’s hand on his that kept Sam from jumping up
and arguing Heather into submission. College had always been a non-negotiable with them. Her grades were good. She had a chance
to get into a great school.
“I know that’s rocking your boat, but I just don’t like school. I
want to do more with my singing. Roz wants to take the band to the
next level, and we have a chance to be good. But I have to — ” “Wait a second,” Sam said, unable to stop himself. “You are not
going to make this band your whole life.”
“You see?” Heather slapped her side. “You don’t even give me a
chance.”
“Right. I am not going to give you a chance to do something stupid. That wouldn’t make me much of a parent, would it?” “Thank you,” Heather said. “Thank you for calling me stupid.” “Not
you.
But what you’re doing is — ”
“Yes, you are. You think I’m stupid, you just said it. You’ve
always thought it.”
“No — ”
“The Trask family sticks together. Sure! Right! So you call the
cops — ”
A sound from the hall turned Sam around. Now Max was standing there, squinting. Buzz, his gray and brown head cocked at the
noise, was at Max’s heel. “What’s going on?” Max said. Terrific, Sam thought. A real family gathering. And Heather’s
sarcastic comment about the family sticking together was burning
inside him.
Linda said, “Can we postpone this until we’re all more rested?” “I’m tired of postponing things,” Heather said, and Sam saw
wet, black streaks starting to run under her eyes. “I’m tired of this
whole stupid family.”
She started toward the stairs.
“Wait,” Sam said. But then Heather turned to the front door. “You want to know where I am? I’m going to Roz’s. And don’t
call me.”
Then she was out, slamming the door behind her.

When the sun came up, Sam thought about driving over to Roz’s and getting Heather himself. His wife talked him out of it, and he knew she was right. This thing needed some time to work itself out.

Besides, with no sleep, he couldn’t be sure he’d be rational or understanding. He might end up chasing a dog down the street, or biting a mailman.

So he went into the office. But working was like slogging up a muddy hill in ankle weights. Sam tried to clear out the brain cobwebs with a triple latte, but after the early morning run-in with Heather, anything he tried to concentrate on was a boulder he could barely move.

Call me Sisyphus.
There was one thing he decided, though, and there was no going back in his mind. He finished his fourth cup of coffee and went to Lew’s office.
“Hey, what’s up, pard?” Lew was twiddling a pencil in his right hand as he tapped at his keyboard with the other.
“I can’t do it, Lew.”
“Do what?”
“Give up on Harper. I’m taking it all the way.”
Lew threw the pencil on the desk. “That’s disappointing.”
“I’m sorry. That’s just the way it’s going to be.”
“Just like that?”
“I’ve been thinking about this a long time.”
“So we don’t make decisions together anymore?”
“You wanted to take the decision away from me, Lew. You made the pronouncement that it was up to me, but you didn’t really want me to stay on this case. But I took it on, and it’s my obligation as a lawyer — ”

“Will you stop with the law school ethics? You’re not a One-L.” “I happen to believe in what I’m doing.”
Lew shook his head. “I’m not pleased. But I think you already

knew I wouldn’t be.” He was silent for a moment. “All right. Do what you have to do. But we are not waiving our fee. Now get out of here and go do some work, will you?”

Work. Yes. Sam would do what he always had in the past — work his tail off. He was never the smartest one in his class at law school, he knew that. But he made sure nobody would outwork him, and nobody did.

He was going to work at getting his daughter back, getting justice for Sarah Harper, and making life come out even again. Raw effort, that would do it.

As he walked back to his office his assistant, Doreen, signaled to him from her desk. She was twenty-four and had a truly expressive face. Her expression was troubled. “You have a call on line one,” she said. “He wouldn’t give his name. Said he was an old friend.”

Sam knew who it was. He went to his office, picked up, and heard the jovial tones of Nicky Oberlin.
“Hey, I didn’t hear back from you. Thought I’d give you a call, see if everything’s all right.”
Sam didn’t want to do this little phone dance. “Everything’s fine, Nicky.”
“Then when are we getting together?”
“I don’t know if that’s going to happen. I just found out I’m going to be extremely busy for the foreseeable future. Not really going to have time.”
“Time for old friends?”
“Time for a lot of things. But I’ve got your card and — ”
“Hey, sounds like you’re giving your old buddy the brush.”
“It’s not that.”
“I think it is.”
Now what? He really
was
giving Nicky the brush-off, and it was patently obvious.
“Nicky, let me just put it this way: I really appreciate the fact that you looked me up after all these years, that you wanted to get together and all that, but right now I just don’t have time to fit in any new social relationships. I’ve got family things going on and law things going on; you know how it is. So let’s just leave it at that, and remember the old times.”
Pause. “You mean we’ll always have Paris?”
“What was that?”
“You know, that line from
Casablanca
? Bogart says it to Bergman just before he dumps her on the plane.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.”
“Well, sorry, Sam. I’m not getting on the plane.”
Sam’s chest tightened a little. “Excuse me?”
“No brush-off.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nicky, but — ”
“Then let me make it real clear, boss. You and I are not through seeing each other. We’re college chums. I didn’t hold much sway in the dorms, if you’ll recall. Nobody wanted to room with me, remember? I was the only guy in the dorm with a single. Not that I minded, considering all the jerks we had.”
Things were starting to get seriously bent. Sam considered just hanging up but figured that would only lead to more calls, more emails. He had to settle this now.
“I don’t choose to see you, Nicky, okay? That’s that.”
“You didn’t hear me, did you, boss? You really didn’t hear me. See, that’s been your problem all along. You didn’t hear me back in the old dorm, either. You were into yourself. You still are.”
“I’m going to say good-bye now, Nicky. I wish you well, I — ”
“Linda okay with that?”
“What?”
“Linda. Your wife, remember? And Heather, and little Max?”
Sam sat up ramrod straight in his chair. “You tell me exactly what you’re saying.”
“A fine Christian family, right, Sam? Pillars of the community and all that.”
“Listen — ”
“You listen. What would it do to your little family unit if they found out about that thing? That little item from back at the old alma mater? I bet you haven’t told Linda about it.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“I think there is.”
“I’m hanging up.” But he held for just a second more.
“I’m talking about your child, Sam. The one your girlfriend had. The one who’s alive and well and living in good old Southern California. Did you tell Linda about the kid, Sam?”
Sam was speechless, numb.
“I didn’t think so,” Nicky Oberlin said.

“Your dad is a little out there,” Roz said, lighting a cigarette. “He means well,” Heather said.
“You want one?” Roz held out the pack of Camels. Roz smoked

the unfiltered kind. She didn’t want any filters in her life, of any kind. Heather shook her head.
“He just doesn’t get it,” Heather said.
They were sitting in the backyard of Roz’s house, late morning. Roz lived with her mother in a house that backed up to the 118 freeway. Exhaust was the neighborhood perfume.
“So you in for the whole deal?” Roz asked.
“Yeah.”
“We go play the Cobalt tomorrow.”
“We ready for that?”
“We will maim them.” Roz took another puff.
Heather said nothing. Roz was the drummer and organizer of the band. Heather sang lead and wrote most of the material. Buck and Raymond were guitar and bass. Screech Monk was only one good set away from a record deal. So went the dream.
Heather fought back tears.
“What’s wrong, dude?” Roz asked.
“Everything sucks.”
“Of course it does.”
“I hate it.”
“Use it. Write songs.”
“What am I gonna do? I can’t stay here forever. I have to get a place or something.”
“What about school?”
“I’m not going back.”
“You gonna get a job?”
“I guess.”
“Or maybe we get a contract, huh? Hit it big.”
“Sure.”
“Think we can?”
“Why not? We’re good.” Pause. “Aren’t we?” They
had
to be good, because singing was the only thing she cared about and knew her dad didn’t approve of. They had to be good, because she had to show him she could make it. Had to prove that his way, his allAmerican tunnel vision was not something he could push on her.
She knew it hurt him. She didn’t want him hurt. But he was like a rock you couldn’t talk to when it came to certain things. They needed time away from each other.
Maybe she’d stick around long enough to see how Screech Monk did at the Cobalt. If nothing happened, she could always duck out of everything forever, out of life and the pain of it. Her family’d be better off without her existence.