Keep Quiet (12 page)

Jake tried to imagine the implications. Ryan’s life would be ruined, and Pam would be devastated. She couldn’t even deal with Ryan going to college, how would she deal with him going to prison? She would lose them both at once. She would never forgive Jake for ruining Ryan’s life and for destroying their family. She would divorce him. She would step down from the bench.

Hubbard raised his finger again. “One last point. The DUI. Even if they tested Ryan’s blood for marijuana, or THC metabolites, the D.A. couldn’t prove that he was under the influence at the time of the accident, or that his level was above the statutory minimum, which is .5 nanograms per liter of blood. The DUI charge drops out, which reduces the sentence from ten years to five.”

Jake tried to understand what he was being told. “So by leaving the scene, we evaded the DUI charge.”

“Correct, but they’ll offer you a worse deal. You don’t win, either way. I would advise you, in the strongest possible terms, to enter into a plea deal.” Hubbard glanced at Ryan, who looked numb with shock, pressed back in his chair, his eyes glistening. “If you decide to turn yourself in, that is.”

“What is the best deal you could get us, if we were to turn ourselves in?” Jake asked, reaching out to touch Ryan’s arm.

“The best, I think, is four years for you, and two for your son, with him sentenced as a juvenile.”

“So Ryan would be considered a juvenile?”

“If he goes in with you, there’s a better chance. If he goes in alone, probably not.”

Jake didn’t try to process the information, just to gather more. “Who makes the decision about whether he’s tried as a juvenile or as an adult?”

“The first assistant district attorney, usually. In this case, given the circumstances, the D.A. may weigh in, too.”

“Which way does that cut?”

“My sense is, against you. They would want to avoid any appearance of favoritism.”

“And if I went to the police alone, without Ryan, saying that I was the driver?”

“No, Dad!” Ryan blurted out, stricken. “You can’t, I won’t let you. I’ll go, I’ll call them, I’ll tell them the truth. You won’t be able to stop me. I’ll tell them you lied and I was driving.”

Hubbard answered as if Ryan hadn’t spoken, “Mr. Buckman, your going in alone may not be tenable, if Ryan isn’t going to let you, and in that event, I can’t represent you. I can’t suborn perjury, that is, I can’t ethically sit there and remain quiet while I know you’re lying to the court.”

“Understood.” Jake was about to ask his last question, but Ryan leaned over across the table to Hubbard.

“Mr. Hubbard, what if I went to the police, and let’s say, like, I told them that I borrowed my dad’s car and took it out by myself? In other words, like, that I was alone in the car, and I hit Kathleen. My dad wasn’t in the picture at all. What would they do?”

Jake recoiled, looking over at Ryan. “I wouldn’t let you do that in a million years.”

Hubbard glanced from father to son. “Ryan, your father would have to support the story, and it looks as if he wouldn’t support your story, just as you wouldn’t support his—”

“I absolutely wouldn’t,” Jake shot back. “It wouldn’t work anyway, not with the facts.”

Ryan groaned. “Why not, Dad?”

“Son, the timing wouldn’t work, and the police would be able to figure that out. The accident happened after I picked you up from the movie, which you went to with your friends. The police could figure out that there wasn’t enough time for us to get home and for you to go back out again.”

“But how would the police even know I was with my friends?”

“They’d investigate, Ryan—”

“Even after I go in and tell them what happened?”

“Of course, they don’t just take your word for it.”

Ryan turned to Hubbard for verification. “Is that right? Would the police go talk to my friends, even after I say what happened?”

“Yes, they would.”

“Ugh!” Ryan smacked the table, in frustration.

Jake had a final question, so he addressed Hubbard. “One last thing, of a more practical nature.”

“Certainly.” Hubbard nodded.

“If we didn’t turn ourselves in, what are the odds?”

“What are the odds that you’d get away with it?”

Jake winced at his bluntness. “Yes.”

“I can’t counsel wrongdoing, and I’m not, and I cannot advise you or help you make a decision. I’ll tell you the relevant facts so you can make your own decision. Do you understand the distinction?”

“Yes.”

“The police in this county investigate thoroughly. They have accident-reconstruction specialists work up the scene, check for debris and tire marks, and physical evidence, like DNA.”

Jake felt relieved that Hubbard didn’t go into gory detail, because he could see Ryan fidget in his chair.

“They also knock on doors, talk to the local businesses, check local body shops and auto parts stores. I don’t know if you read the case, but a man was arrested in Upper Darby last week for a hit-and-run, eight months after the fact. Delaware County police tracked him down via a headlamp he ordered to repair the Toyota 4Runner he was driving when he struck the victim.”

Jake didn’t interrupt him, running over a grim checklist in his mind. Burned parka, check. Crashed car, check.

“They also visit local hospitals and doctors. They examine red-light and convenience-store tapes. They post it online and solicit tips. Tips are a major factor in hit-and-runs. In all crime, really. People have a tendency to tell their friends.”

Jake didn’t dare look over at Ryan.

“These things happen rarely in this township, and the local police have expertise, but not experience, unlike places like Coatesville.”

Hubbard paused, in thought. “In addition, it was raining last night, and water on the road prevents skidmarks from forming. Also the accident scene is out of the way. There are no street cameras in its vicinity, only in the corporate center.”

Jake hadn’t told Hubbard that the accident happened on Pike Road, but nobody was kidding anybody at this point.

“By the way, the statute of limitations on leaving the scene is seven years.”

Jake blinked, surprised. “I assumed there was no statute of limitations.”

“No, that’s only for murder. This would be manslaughter, not murder. Do you have any other questions?”

“No, thanks.” Jake understood. Hubbard was telling them that the odds were they wouldn’t get caught.

“No, thank you,” Ryan answered miserably, looking up.

“Well then.” Hubbard pushed back his chair and rose. “I’m sorry for your trouble. Please feel free to call me.”

“Will do, and please do bill me for this time.” Jake began to stand up, but Hubbard waved him back into his seat, heading for the door.

“Please, stay here. I can show myself out. There’s no charge for a consultation. Best of luck to you both.”

“Thanks.” Jake eased down into the chair and patted Ryan’s hand, after Hubbard left the conference room. “You okay?”

Ryan hung his head, then looked up with anguished eyes. “I don’t want you to go to jail.”

“I’m not going to jail.”

“But you would, if we go to the police.” Ryan rubbed his face, leaving a welt on his fair skin. “I never should have asked to drive. I never thought anything like this could happen.”

“Neither did I.” Jake got up, went to Ryan, put his arms around him, and gave him a long hug, then held on, as if to support them both. “It’s on me. I’m the adult, like he said. I ran the show, not you.”

“But you didn’t know about the weed. I should’nt’ve had the weed.” They clung to each other, sad and resigned. “I hardly ever smoke, I swear, Dad.”

“I know. It really is my fault, not yours.” Jake gave him a final hug, then released him. “I took it too lightly. I didn’t think it through. I underestimated the downside risk.”

“What?” Ryan looked at him, bewildered, and Jake straightened, standing in the conference room as he had so many times before, explaining to his clients.

“It means that whenever you do something, you have to understand that the worst-case scenario happens, even to good people.” Jake hoped Ryan accepted that explanation, even as he realized that that was only part of what had gone wrong. He’d wanted to be Fun Dad, so he hadn’t said no. He’d wanted to be closer to his son, so he’d been a buddy, not a parent. It was a mistake he would regret the rest of his life.

Ryan rose slowly. “At least we know what to do. I never would’ve thought
you’d
have to go to jail, I thought it was just me. If I go forward and turn myself in, they’ll get you.” He met Jake’s gaze directly. “So I won’t turn myself in. I won’t say a word. I’ll shut up.”

“Oh no,” Jake said, but it came out like a moan. “That’s not a given, Ryan.”

“Yes it is, no doubt.” Ryan’s tone grew determined, and he stood up straighter. “There’s no other way. I’ll never tell,
ever.
”

Jake felt sick to his stomach, even though he was getting what he wished for, or maybe because he was getting what he wished for. “We can talk this out at home.”

“Dad, there’s nothing to talk about. Like you said, it’s a done deal. I can’t let
you
go to jail, just like you couldn’t let
me
go to jail.” Ryan smiled sadly, cocking his head. “You protected
me,
now I’m going to protect
you
. Guess I’m my father’s son, huh?”

Jake felt his heart lurch, at the irony. “But it’s my job to protect you. It’s not your job to protect me.”

“That made sense when I was a kid, but not now. I told you I’m not a baby anymore.” Ryan’s forehead eased, and his expression turned oddly accepting, almost peaceful. “I wanted an answer and I got one. I’m not going to let anybody else be punished for something I did, least of all, you. I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too,” Jake said, and they faced each other, eyeball to eyeball, but not as they had before, in his bedroom. There was no confrontation now, and nobody was spoiling for a fight. Ryan wasn’t trying to declare his independence, and Jake wasn’t trying to hold on to any primacy he used to have as a parent.

They were both exhausted, trapped, and full of remorse. They were bound together not only by blood and love, but by guilt and lies. They were father and son, but they were also partners in crime.

Ironically, they had never been closer.

Chapter Fourteen

It wasn’t until he got home that Jake had a chance to eat something. He stood at the granite counter and spread lumpy strawberry preserves onto semi-frozen Ezekiel bread, glancing up at the television. A cop show was on, so he looked away and finished making his sandwich. He checked the over-the-counter clock. It was 10:58
P.M.
, and the local news would be on any minute.

“Mrfh!” Moose barked, his round brown eyes looking hopeful, the way they did whenever peanut butter was in the vicinity.

“Here, buddy.” Jake slid his index finger along the butter knife, swiped off some peanut butter and jelly, and offered it to the dog. Moose licked it happily, his tail swishing back and forth on the floor like a windshield wiper, reminding him of last night in his car.

I love how these wipers go on automatically! Dad, this car is sick!

Jake wished to God he had said no. If he had, none of this would have happened, Kathleen would be alive, and his son would be happy and carefree. As it was, Ryan was upstairs hiding in his room and getting ready for bed, so he’d be asleep by the time Pam got home. It was the only way he could avoid her cross-examination about the flu, his homework, or how he’d spent the evening.

Suddenly there was a commotion at the front door, and Moose scampered off, barking toward the entrance hall. Jake worried that it could be the police and hurried from the kitchen.

“Honey!” Pam burst through the front door, alive with excitement. She tossed her car keys, little purse, and black shawl on the console table, and Moose wagged his tail frantically.

“Hey, hi!” Jake tried to recover. “You’re home early.”

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” Pam closed the door behind her. “I’ve been calling and calling!”

“I didn’t hear it, sorry.” Jake must have forgotten about his phone in the rental car. “What’s up? How come you didn’t park in the garage?”

“I didn’t bother, I’m in a rush! Where’s Ryan?” Pam was already heading for the stairwell, her high heels clacking on the hardwood. “Ryan, come down! Come downstairs!”

Jake didn’t like what was going on. This wasn’t the way he planned it at all. “He might be asleep, honey. He wasn’t feeling well—”

“Oh please. He’s been on the phone for the past hour.” Pam took off her high heels and placed them on one of the steps, to be taken upstairs. “Enough with the shoes. Showtime’s over.”

“Mom, what do you want?” Ryan called from his room upstairs.

“Come down, right now!”

“I’m in bed!”

“Come down, this is important!” Pam rolled her eyes and looked at Jake with a knowing smile. “He must be talking to the girl. I checked online and he’s on G-chat, too. Did he do his homework?”

“Some of it, I think.” Jake began to worry, wondering who Ryan was talking to on the phone and online. “He didn’t feel well.”

“He has a French vocab test on Tuesday, so he has to study in advance because of the playoffs.”

“Aw, cut him a break. He’s sick. He slept most of the evening.” Jake marveled that his wife always had Ryan’s schedule in the back of her mind, running on a parallel track with her own.

“Were you born yesterday?” Pam snorted good-naturedly. “He may have been in his room, but if he was on the phone and G-chatting, he wasn’t studying or sleeping.”

“It’s hard to focus when you don’t feel well.”

“Mom, what’s going on?” Ryan appeared at the top of the stairway and walked down slowly, running his hand along the banister and blinking against the bright lights of the hanging fixture in the entrance hall. His hair was messy, and he was dressed for bed in a maroon Chasers Nation T-shirt and pajama pants.

“Come down, I want to talk to you and your dad.” Pam beamed up at him, but Ryan avoided her eye as he descended the stairs, and Jake wanted to give him the heads-up.