Chapter 9: His Last Move
"Don't hang up."
His voice was the same.
That was the thing that struck her first — that after everything, his voice was exactly the same.
Measured.
Reasonable.
The voice she had trusted for six years.
"You're not supposed to contact me," she said.
"I know.
I'm asking you to give me two minutes before you report this call." A pause.
"Please."
She didn't hang up.
She walked to the corner of the corridor, away from the conference room door, and lowered her voice.
"Two minutes."
"The account," he said.
"You've found it by now, or you're about to.
I know how Grace Teller works." A brief silence.
"I'm not calling to threaten you.
I'm calling because I want to tell you something before it comes out in a courtroom."
"Tell me."
"The money in that account — not the business money, the other account — I started it before I met you.
Before Carol.
I was twenty-two years old and my father had just left my mother with nothing, and I swore I would never be in that position." His voice stayed level.
"I know how that sounds now.
I know what I became.
But that account was never about you.
It was about being terrified of ending up with nothing."
Valerie stood very still.
"You hurt our son," she said.
"Because you were afraid of ending up with nothing."
Silence.
"I know," he said.
"That's not an explanation, Daniel.
That's not even close to an explanation."
"I'm not asking you to forgive me." His voice shifted slightly — not softer, but more careful.
"I'm asking you to let me plead guilty.
To everything.
No trial.
No courtroom with Thomas having to sit there and answer questions.
No Nick being put on a stand and cross-examined by Coyle." A pause.
"I'll give up the account.
All of it.
I'll sign whatever Grace needs.
But I want it done without a trial."
Valerie's hand was tight on the phone.
"Why are you telling me this instead of Grace?"
"Because Grace doesn't care what happens to Thomas in a courtroom.
She cares about the conviction." His voice was quiet.
"You care about Thomas."
It was the most honest thing he had said in the entire conversation.
It was also, she knew, the most dangerous.
"You're asking me to advocate for a deal that protects you," she said.
"I'm asking you to protect our son from having to testify."
"Thomas would testify if he needed to," she said.
"He's braver than you ever gave him credit for."
A long silence.
"I know that now," Daniel said.
"I've known it since last night."
Valerie looked at the courthouse wall in front of her.
"I'm going to report this call," she said.
"And then I'm going to let Grace and Diane decide what to do with what you've said.
That's all I can give you."
"That's fair," he said.
"Daniel." She stopped.
"The boy.
Nick.
You never apologized to him."
The silence that followed was different from the others.
"No," he said finally.
"I didn't."
"That's the thing I keep coming back to," she said.
"Not the money.
Not even what you did to Thomas.
It's that a twelve-year-old boy with nothing stood between you and your own son, and you walked out of that restaurant without a word to him."
She heard him breathe.
"I know," he said.
She ended the call.
---
Grace was not pleased about the call.
She was also, Valerie could tell, not entirely surprised.
"He's trying to control the narrative," Grace said.
"The guilty plea offer is real — Coyle floated it to me this morning — but the call to you was about seeing whether he could get you to push for it."
"He made a reasonable point about Thomas testifying," Valerie said.
"He made a calculated point," Grace said.
"There's a difference." She paused.
"That said — the offer is worth considering.
A guilty plea to all charges, full surrender of the hidden account, no trial.
Thomas doesn't have to testify.
Nick doesn't have to testify.
Carol doesn't have to sit across a courtroom from him."
"What does he get?"
"A sentencing recommendation from our office.
We'd ask for a custodial sentence — he'd serve time.
But the length would be at the lower end of the range, given the cooperation."
Valerie looked at the table.
"What do you think?" she asked.
"I think we have a very strong case and we would likely win at trial," Grace said.
"I also think trials are unpredictable, and Coyle is good, and Thomas is twelve years old." She met Valerie's eyes.
"I think you should talk to Thomas before you decide anything."
---
That evening, Valerie sat on the edge of Thomas's bed.
He was in his pajamas, his school backpack finally unpacked and hanging on the hook behind his door.
The room looked more like itself than it had in months — she noticed, with a small shock, that he had put a drawing back up on the wall that she had assumed he'd thrown away.
"I need to ask you something," she said.
Thomas looked at her.
"Your dad has offered to plead guilty.
To everything.
It means there wouldn't be a trial.
You wouldn't have to answer questions in court."
Thomas was quiet for a moment.
"Would Nick have to?"
"No.
Neither of you would."
He looked at the drawing on the wall — a football pitch, players in mid-run, drawn in colored pencil with the careful detail of someone who had spent a long time on it.
"Would he still go to prison?" Thomas asked.
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"We don't know exactly yet.
Some time."
Thomas nodded slowly.
"What do you want to do?" he asked.
Valerie looked at her son.
"I want to do whatever is right for you," she said.
"I don't want to go to court," Thomas said.
"I don't want to sit there and—" He stopped.
"I don't want Nick to have to do it either.
Nick's been through enough."
"Okay," Valerie said.
"But Mum." Thomas looked at her directly.
"Whatever happens — he has to say it.
Out loud.
In front of a judge.
All of it." His voice was steady.
"He can't just sign a piece of paper.
He has to say it."
Valerie reached over and took his hand.
"I'll make sure of it," she said.
May you like
Outside, the porch light flickered once.
Then it went out entirely.
