by PE Kavanagh
“I told you, Jack. I won’t let myself be frightened by this.”
Chapter 14
Twelve years earlier
“Are you still celebrating?” Jonathan King’s tone, thick with judgment, translated across the phone line.
“Yes, Dad. Twenty-one is a big deal. It only happens once.”
“You need to act responsibly, Jackson. You’re an adult now. It’s time to leave your teenage antics behind.”
“Yes, sir.” There was little attempt to hide his sarcasm.
“I’ll expect you on time for Sunday dinner tomorrow.”
“As usual, Dad. Good night.” Jackson happily accepted the tequila shot handed to him by his buddy and threw it back. He was glad he’d sprung for the good stuff.
It had been a week full of parties to celebrate his twenty-first birthday, which had culminated in his friends taking over their favorite bar. He had always been able to handle his liquor. So well, in fact, that at the end of the long night, Jackson was the least drunk of all of his friends, and volunteered to drive a few of them home.
After dropping off the last of his passengers, Jackson congratulated himself on a job well done. His father’s reproachful voice brought a sneer to his face. That man didn’t know anything. Jackson could party with the best of them and still get everyone home safely. He looked down to turn up the radio. His favorite song was playing.
When Jackson woke up in the hospital, he had lost five hours of his memory. The person he hit as he had drifted into oncoming traffic had nearly lost her life.
The next six months of his life, as he prepared to finish college and begin a prestigious fellowship across the country, were spent navigating the judicial system. There had been civil and criminal charges. Thankfully, the driver of the other car had a successful recovery. And then, one day, the whole thing went away. His father, who had been managing the situation from the beginning, ordered him to never speak of the accident again. Jackson was too afraid not to obey.
Now
Any time Camille could sneak out of work, she headed down to the state and county offices, trying to find records of all her father’s court cases. A lawyer friend of Jackson’s helped with the especially difficult ones, as did Ramona’s contacts at the county clerk. After ten days she’d assembled hundreds of pages of copies which covered her entire dining table. Then began the work of figuring out if anything had criminal elements.
Camille realized, while looking over the huge pile of legal documents, that she didn’t actually have a plan. There was no way of knowing, without reading through all the court proceedings, which way the verdict had been swayed. She had thought that just finding all the cases ending with a not guilty verdict would point to wronged plaintiffs. Skimming the briefs revealed that that was clearly incorrect. And many of the cases didn’t have individual plaintiffs. They originated from the city or state. The idea of restitution began to feel more and more like folly.
She dropped her head onto the table, the probability of defeat lodging itself firmly into her awareness.
No.
She would not be thwarted this easily. She lifted her head, picked up the next folder in the pile and flipped it open. She’d gotten used to the strange format of these documents and her eyes went straight to the section naming the plaintiff and defendant.
County of Santa Clara vs. King, Jackson.
She stared at those seven words until the burning of her eyes forced her to blink. She lifted the dozen or so pages from the others, slid over to her right, where there was an open spot on the table, and began to read. Every single word.
She’d only just finished when Jackson came breezing into the house all smiles and excitement.
“Hey Cam, did you see the interview?”
She’d completely forgotten that he was being interviewed by the local news station. “No.”
He stopped walking toward her, his smile flattening into worry. “What’s wrong, baby? Is all that legal stuff too hard to deal with?”
“No. I mean yes. I mean…” She looked him squarely in the face, trying to orient what she’d just read with the man standing in front of her. She stretched out her arm, clutching the documents, toward him. “I need you to explain this.”
He took the pile and read. Confusion quickly turned to recognition, then something that, on another face, might have been called shame. But Jackson King didn’t feel shame. At least not in the decade she’d known him.
He dropped the papers on the table, walked into the kitchen, opened a bottle of wine, and returned with the bottle and two glasses. He filled them both before speaking.
“I turned twenty-one in the middle of senior year. I had already gotten into the program at Columbia. Life was really great.” He took three gulps of wine, then refilled his glass.
“My buddies took me out to celebrate. I was the most sober and I drove everyone home. Safely. But right before I got home, I drifted into the center of the highway and hit another car.” He looked directly at her. “Actually, that part I don’t remember, but that’s what they told me happened.”
Camille counted her breaths while waiting for him to continue.
“I hit a woman, coming home from work. A waitress, if I remember. Both cars were totaled but our injuries weren’t too bad. I had a concussion and fractured my collarbone. She broke a few bones. We were lucky.”
Camille pulled the stack of papers toward her and stared down at them, desperately hoping that something reasonable would emerge. “Why did it go to court?”
“They did a breathalyzer on me at the hospital, and it showed I was over the limit. Because of the severity of the accident, the county had to press charges.” It was only at that point that shock entered his expression.
“Holy shit, Cam. Your father was the judge?”
She nodded. He swallowed.
“What happened to the case?”
“My father took charge of everything. He told me he convinced the woman to drop the civil suit, hired me the best attorneys and got the criminal case closed. He kept me out of it, so that I could focus on school. Then, I don’t know, it all just disappeared. As if it had never happened.”
It was her turn to wipe out her glass of wine.
Fear blazed in his eyes. “You don’t think…”
“I think there’s only one person who would know that answer.”
He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and began vigorously typing and swiping.
This was so confusing. “What are you doing?”
“I’m booking a ride to my parent’s house. Not going to drive after that glass of wine. Especially not after…”
She touched his arm with her fingertips, which caused him to whip his head up.
“Things are already pretty tense with your Dad. Maybe you should give it a minute before storming down there.”
His head bobbed up and down. “I understand why you’d say that. But I’m not going to wait.”
“This isn’t news, Jackson. This was twelve years ago. Another day or two isn’t going to change what happened.”
As if it were possible, the line of his jaw sharpened. “There’s no reason to wait, Cam.”
He stood up and walked toward the bathroom. “The car will be here in ten minutes.”
* * *
They sat in the backseat of the SUV, both staring straight ahead. This entanglement between the most important men in her life was not settling into a coherent story. Could it really be possible that her father, the man who’d become like a father to her, and the man she loved, all conspired in covering up a crime? Devastation molded itself into an expression of horror.
Jackson turned to her as they passed the first gate of his parent’s property.
“Thanks for coming.”
“Of cou-”
He touched her cheek. “And I have to say that the way you looked at me today is something I never, ever, want to experience in my life again. You have every right to be horrified. But I promise you, whatev
er happened here, I will make it right.”
* * *
Jackson strode directly into the sitting room, where he knew his father would be spending the evening. “What did you do, Dad? With my DUI case?”
The elder King stared at his son, then pulled at the lapels of his jacket. “I made it go away. I saved your future.”
The two men stood, immobile and unspeaking, until Camille couldn’t stand the silence one more second. “How did you make it go away, Mr. King? How did this involve my father?”
They both spun to look at her, Jonathan unable to conceal a jolt of surprise.
Jonathan spoke directly to her. “So you know…” He turned away from them. “I’m not sure you want to know. Either of you. It’s probably best if you don’t.”
“Mr. King, I’m not claiming that what you did or didn’t do is any of my business. But somehow, there’s this terrible connection between you, your son, and my father. I’m here because I need to understand.”
“We need to know, Dad.” Jackson’s voice shook.
Jonathan turned toward them and began pacing in the space between the center table and the large brown leather couch. “It would have ruined your life, Jackson. You would have probably gone to jail. And with that on your record, Columbia would have been forced to rescind their offer. There’s no way a publisher would have touched your book, either. The entire trajectory of your life would have been altered, based on one foolish decision.”
Jackson tracked his father’s movements, while Camille’s gaze did not shift from her boyfriend’s face.
Jonathan thrummed his fingers on the back of the couch. “Uncle Mason told me he knew an officer who had connections with the courts. That they could make this whole thing disappear. For a price.”
Jackson bolted up out of his seat. “Holy shit, Dad! Do you know how illegal that is?”
The first sign of emotion crossed Jonathan’s face. “Of course I do! I put everything at risk to save you. You had no idea what was happening.”
Camille tugged at Jackson’s arm, urging him to sit back down. “My father threw the case?”
“Yes, Camille. He and several others.”
Jackson took two steps toward his father. “How much did you pay them?”
“Jackson, that’s not important. It was a long time ago.”
“How much did you pay them?” Jackson spoke more deliberately.
His father pressed his palm into the top of his forehead. “I don’t know why that’s rel-”
“I swear to God, Dad. I’m not going to ask nicely again.” Jackson’s face flushed with rage.
“Two million. About two million.”
Camille squeezed Jackson’s hand to stop the shaking in her body. “What about the woman? The one Jackson hit?”
“She’s fine. Just fine. She’s had a good life.”
Two more steps closer. Camille watched as Jackson really began to lose his shit, the shape of his face and body transformed by rage. For an instant she wondered if Jackson was going to hit his father. “How could you possibly know that?”
“Jackson, you need to calm down. I know that she’s fine because I’ve been taking care of her since the accident.”
“Oh my God!” Jackson’s bellow filled the large room.
Camille spoke over the mad pounding in her chest. “Taking care of her how?”
“I paid all her hospital bills. I got her a job. I help her with money, although she doesn’t ask very much. I’ve been paying for her daughter’s schooling.”
“Do you have a relationship with her, Dad? Does she know what you did?”
“Do I look stupid to you?!” It was rare to see Mr. King so visibly perturbed. “She knows who I am. I told her that I felt bad about the verdict and offered to help her. We’ve kept in touch over the years. That’s all.”
“I’ve always struggled with the fact that I didn’t understand you, Dad. But this… this proves that I had no idea who my father really was. Or is. I am horrified by what you did.”
“Yes, Jackson,” Mr. King seethed, “you get to be horrified. And sanctimonious. And judgmental. You know why? Because you didn’t have to go to jail. And you didn’t have a felony on your record. So before you start thinking how wrong I was, just imagine that life. The one you were supposed to have because of your carelessness and irresponsibility. The one I saved you from. You think this woman, who means the world to you, would have looked at you twice? Think about that.”
Jonathan King stormed out of the room while Camille envisioned her own version of the ugly picture he painted. She imagined Jackson was doing the same.
* * *
Jackson tried to relax in the backseat of the car, grateful for the young man driving them home. He wasn’t certain about Camille’s state of mind, but his was completely unfit after what had happened with his father.
He got into bed and waited for her. She came in and sat on the edge of the bed with her back to him. He sat up.
“All my life, I’ve been lied to by the men around me. First my father, then yours, then you. I wish I understood what it was about me that would attract this into my life.”
Jackson watched her shoulders move up and down with her short breaths. He wanted to show her the million ways that she was wrong. That he shouldn’t be lumped in with those others, whose lies had, in fact, been detrimental to her life.
“Don’t take this on, Cam. The ill deeds of others isn’t yours to carry.”
“I don’t believe that. Not anymore. Sure, there was nothing I could’ve done about my father. I was a child and had no idea. But your father… I trusted him. He knew who I was, all these years, welcoming me into the family, knowing the terrible thing he’d done with my father.” She turned slightly toward him. “You know, it’s not that different than what you did. All these years, lying to me about how you felt. I probably should’ve known. But I was so busy hiding my own secrets, I didn’t try to see. Actually I tried not to see, because it was the scariest thing I’ve ever faced.”
Jackson shook his head, praying that something helpful could come out of his mouth. “I’m not sure how this inquiry will benefit you.”
“It’s not about benefit to me. It’s about realizing how every important man in my life was enveloped by secrets. Some of which hurt me. A lot.”
“I’m sorry. For whatever part of that is mine. Actually I’m sorry for all of it. I wish you hadn’t gone through any of it.”
He crawled to her and pulled her into his arms. She pulled away.
“Does knowing what happened… what I did… does that change your perception of me?”
He wasn’t ready for her to turn around so quickly to look him in the eye. He jerked back.
“There was probably a time I thought you were perfect. Those days are long gone, Jackson.”
The muscles of his chest and abdomen contracted as if he’d been punched. “Wow.”
She tilted her head and looked at him with an odd expression. It almost looked like confusion to him. “It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. You shouldn’t take it that way. I know who you are.”
Jackson willed himself to slow down his breathing, to regain control, to not let the upset discolor this calm, but gut-wrenching, conversation. “I don’t want you to think badly of me. I know the whole situation was wrong, but-”
“Please stop making it about you.” Her voice had gone emotionless.
He nodded. “Fair enough. I just want you to know that-”
“I’m not going to dig into those cases anymore.”
She spoke as if she’d been talking about the phone bill or what to have for dinner. He was so shocked by her delivery, he hardly registered her words.
She shrugged. “It’s impossible to know who was right and who was wrong. Especially since the most important people in my life constantly obliterate that line. Isn’t there some famous saying about sins of the father?”
She stood up as he reached for her. “I’m going to go read in the living roo
m for a while. You stay here and sleep.”
Several things became very clear to Jackson:
That was not a request.
The Grand Canyon sized rift in his beloved’s heart would require a meticulous approach.
He’d thought nothing would be worse than the look of disgust she’d given him that evening. He was wrong. This was worse.
Chapter 15
Camille was determined to move forward, despite how terrible she felt. She and Jackson busied themselves with work and the mountain of details to complete the remodel of their new place. If she tried hard enough, she could make herself feel happy. After all, her life was nearly perfect. She was kicking ass in the career she loved, she had the man of her dreams, she was surrounded by people who loved her. Hell, even her house was going to be a showpiece. If only she could stop feeling like everything was tainted by secrets, betrayal, and disgrace.
“I think we should go away. Like we talked about before… everything.”
She knew he was only trying to help. To distract her from the impenetrable darkness she couldn’t shake. “It’s not a good time, Jackson. We need to be accessible to the contractors and designers, and we’re both busy with work.”
He stopped her from rummaging through a box full of books and took her hands. “None of that matters right now, love. We’ll delay the move. Or we’ll take our chances that they’ll get it right. It doesn’t matter.”
“But it does.” It needed to matter. Or else she’d be stuck with all the other thoughts she didn’t want to have.
“No, Camille. It doesn’t. You’re hurting. You’re grieving. You’re shocked. You’re-”
She looked directly at him. “I’m not going anywhere, Jackson. I’m not going to run away from this. I’m not going to be afraid. I’m going to keep going, like I’ve always done. You might have noticed that I’m pretty good at it by now.”