The Intern(86)

He was so pure, so persuasive, that she believed him. He took her hand, and they went downstairs to get married.





31


They were living in a rented house in Wellesley and going to open houses on the weekends. They loved the town, which was leafy and quaint, with cute shops and a fabulous school system, all within a reasonable commute to Boston. Between what they’d each saved over the years, and a wedding gift from Matthew’s parents, they had enough for a down payment. They were looking for three bedrooms and a real backyard, for kids. They’d started trying on their honeymoon.

You could feel fall coming on, with its sparkly days and chilly nights. The first bits of color were appearing in the trees, and it got dark earlier every night. On the way home from the courthouse, she stopped to pick up a pregnancy test. Her period was late, she had a touch of nausea and a strange fatigue that made her feel heavy and slow. When she walked in the door, the smell of chicken roasting turned her stomach. Matthew had left a note on top of the mail on the island saying he’d gone out for a run. She hurried to the bathroom to do the test before he returned. If it was negative, she wouldn’t tell him. They’d had a couple of false alarms. For days after the first one, he treated her like she was made of glass. After the second, he brought home a kitten with eyes as green as his own, who was adorable but proceeded to scratch up all the furniture. She didn’t want to find out what happened after another.

She was in the bathroom staring at the plus sign in disbelief when he came back from his run.

“Hey, babe. Come in here,” she called. “Look.”

She pointed to the wand sitting out on the vanity.

“A plus sign. Does that mean it’s—”

She nodded. “Positive.”

“Are you sure?”

“As sure as these things get. They’re pretty accurate.”

“It’s real?” He put his hands on her stomach, joy blazing in his eyes.

“Are you happy?” she said.

“So happy I’m speechless. C’mere.”

He kissed her hair, her eyes, her mouth.

“Let’s have a toast,” he said.

In the kitchen, he poured Sanpellegrino into champagne glasses. They toasted the future over the roast chicken dinner at the kitchen table. Normally, she found it impossible to appreciate life while she was living it. Her mind was always either ahead or behind. But for the space of that dinner, for once, she knew she was happy.

Afterward, sitting at the island, watching Matthew load the dishwasher, she shuffled through the day’s mail. A circular from the local garden center. Something from the ABA. The cable bill. And a plain white envelope addressed in block letters to “JUDGE CONROY,” with no return address.

It was heavy. There was something inside other than a letter.

“Did you see this?” she said, her voice rising.

He took it from her and held it up to the light.

“There’s something in there.”

“No, don’t open it,” she said, but he was already tearing off the end.

He spilled the contents onto the island. They rolled around, glinting in the light. Two bullets. One for her. One for him.

“What is that?” he whispered.

“It’s a message. A threat.”

Whoever sent that envelope could be charged with multiple crimes. Threat by mail. Threatening a government official of the United States. Obstruction of justice. They could wind up doing ten years in jail, but only if Kathryn called in the FBI. Matthew begged her to, but she was terrified.

“If I report it, they’ll start digging. And they’ll find things about me. They’ll reopen the investigation into Brad McCarthy’s death.”

“From what you’ve said, you did nothing wrong.”

“I passed information to my half brother, who passed it to the mob. Including where we were going for dinner the night they killed him, and the make of his car. That’s enough to charge me with the murder conspiracy.”

“But you didn’t know.”

“I knew enough. I knew what they were capable of. Any jury would convict me. Our baby will be born in jail. I can’t bear that. Can you?”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. You told me so. You said there’s a way to get them not to prosecute you.”

“Right. I flip. On Ray. On Charlie. Doug Kessler. The mob. They’ll kill us both.”

“Not if we ask for witness protection.”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to go into hiding? The feds give us new identities and send us somewhere random. It’s like living a stranger’s life. You’ll never see your family again. I’ll never see my mother. Our child will grow up with no family. And besides, it’s not foolproof. These people are relentless. They’ll never stop hunting us. And they have moles everywhere. Somebody someday will leak our location, I guarantee you. And we’ll spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders.”

“Like we’re not doing that already? I watch the rearview mirror when I drive. I hesitate to answer the door, and now I have to worry about opening the mail. I can’t live with the constant threat of violence, and I don’t want to bring our child into this situation. Do you?”

“There has to be a solution. I’ll talk to Ray.”