Chapter 9: The Last Thing She Said
The arraignment was on a Tuesday, as Gerald had promised.
Jonathan did not attend.
His cardiologist — the real one, a woman named Dr.
Osei who had taken over his care with brisk, no-nonsense competence — had told him he could watch it on a screen from his room or he could attend in person and set his recovery back by two weeks.
He watched it on a screen.
Victoria was brought in wearing a grey institutional outfit that was nothing like the cream blouses and careful hair.
She stood very straight.
She had always had excellent posture.
The charges were read.
Aggravated @buse resulting in grievous bodily harm.
Criminal conspiracy.
Attempted murd3r in the first degree.
She entered a plea of not guilty.
Her attorney, a sharp-faced woman Jonathan didn't recognize, spoke briefly about her client's community ties and clean record.
The judge denied bail without much deliberation.
The flight risk was, as Gerald had predicted, self-evident.
As the court officer moved to escort her out, Victoria turned — not toward her attorney, not toward the gallery — but toward the camera in the corner of the room.
As if she knew Jonathan was watching.
She looked directly into it.
She didn't say anything.
She didn't have to.
Jonathan held her gaze through the screen for three seconds.
Then the officer touched her arm and she turned away and walked out.
Gerald called immediately after.
"She'll fight it," he said.
"Her attorney is already filing motions to suppress the recording."
"On what grounds?" Jonathan asked.
"She'll argue the recording was made without consent in a private medical setting."
"Illinois is a one-party consent state," Jonathan said.
"Yes.
Her attorney knows that.
The motion is a delay tactic.
It won't succeed, but it buys time and it costs you money." Gerald paused.
"I want you to be prepared for this to take eighteen months to two years before trial."
"I know," Jonathan said.
"You'll need to testify."
"I know that too."
"And Raymond is already negotiating.
He's offering to testify against Victoria in exchange for a reduced charge.
The state attorney is considering it."
Jonathan thought about Raymond Castillo.
Forty-one years old.
Waiting in a condo that wasn't his, for a man to die so he could spend money he hadn't earned.
"Let him testify," Jonathan said.
"If it helps the case, let him."
"It will mean a lighter sentence for him."
"I know," Jonathan said.
"I can live with that."
Gerald was quiet for a moment.
"You're being very measured about all of this."
"I'm tired," Jonathan said honestly.
"I don't have the energy for rage anymore.
I just want it to be finished correctly."
"It will be," Gerald said.
"I'll make sure of it."
After he hung up, Jonathan sat with the quiet for a while.
He thought about four years.
About the specific texture of a lie that is also a life — the dinners, the trips, the small daily kindnesses that had all been architecture.
A structure built to get him to a hospital bed at fifty-six, weak enough to die on someone else's timeline.
He had nearly let it work.
He thought about Lucas's sister Chloe, who was scheduled for surgery in three weeks.
He thought about Dennis Paulk, who had been right and dismissed and had carried that for years.
He thought about Gerald, who had driven to a hospital in the middle of the night without complaint.
He thought about the people who had been there, quietly, while he was looking at the wrong things.
His phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
He tensed.
Then he read it.
*Mr.
Mercer.
My name is Chloe Bennett.
Lucas showed me what you did.
I'm not good at this kind of thing but I wanted to say thank you.
I'm a little scared about the surgery but Lucas says you're very brave so I'm going to try to be too.*
Jonathan read it twice.
He typed back: *You're already braver than me, Chloe.
I'll be rooting for you.*
He set the phone down.
Outside, the city moved.
Somewhere in it, a fourteen-year-old girl was getting ready to fight for her life.
Somewhere else, a woman in grey was sitting in a cell reconsidering the architecture of her choices.
May you like
Jonathan reached for the glass of water on his bedside table.
His hand barely shook at all.
