The Whole Truth (38 page)

SEVENTY-NINE

“Surprised I asked to see you?” Sienna said. She and Steve were sitting in the back of a black Yukon, one of the command post vehicles. Issler had ordered they be left alone for a few minutes.

“You could say that,” Steve said.

“I don't suppose you could really act as my attorney.”

“Would you really want me to?”

“I would trust you in any circumstance. Does that sound crazy?”

“Uh. Yeah. There's just a tiny bit of baggage that would prevent me from giving you adequate representation. Knowing you're a consummate liar might color my judgment.”

She nodded weakly. “No argument there.”

“When you came out to my office that day, it was all part of the setup.”

“Yes. Johnny wanted me to be around you, assess you.”

“How did you know I was going to be evicted from my office?”

“I didn't. That just happened. I used it. I'm good at using things.”

“Oh yeah. Very good.”

Sienna said nothing. Steve didn't know whether to feel pity or scorn. A cold stone sat in his chest. He was silent too.

Finally Sienna said, “Can I tell you a story?”

“Does it have a happy ending?”

“I don't know the ending yet. I know the beginning real well. It's about a girl brought up to be a good Christian. She had a father and mother who made sure she went to Sunday school and church. She got the Bible drummed into her so she knew it backward and forward. Our little story was all roses until the girl turned sixteen. By then the mother had died and she was alone with her father. It was tough on both of them. They didn't know how to talk to each other. The girl, she had something in her that just . . . wasn't good. One night she sneaked out to be with her boyfriend. Ha. Boyfriend. She knew him all of a week. They went out driving and had vodka and then she had her first . . . experience.”

She gave Steve a quick look, then cast her eyes down.

“When she got home, her father knew. I don't know how he knew, but he did. It was in his eyes. He could smell my breath and . . . oh, I guess you know who the story is about now, don't you?”

“I was taking a wild guess.”

Sienna took on the faraway look of remembering, spoke slowly. “I couldn't stand the look in Dad's eyes. He was a mechanic. Cars, trucks. Hard worker. Such a strong, good man. We had a fight that night. A big one. There was just something in me that didn't take to what he wanted me to be. We screamed so loud. And he slapped me. I ran out of the house. I was going to run away. I did, for a couple of days.”

She stopped, took a deep breath. “When I finally came back, it was too late. He was dead. They said it was his heart. He'd had heart trouble before, but it wasn't a coincidence. I knew that. Bored yet?”

“I'm still listening,” Steve said.

“I got out of town. Too many eyes looking at me. Went to another state, got a job, finished school, got to college. Slept around. Got accepted at DeWitt. More of the same. Then I got on an appeal project at school that first summer, and went out to Fenton to help a prisoner with his appeal. His name was Johnny LaSalle.”

Another pause. This was obviously an effort. Steve waited for her to go on.

Sienna said, “You've heard the stories about women who get fixated on prisoners? I think there's a name for that. There's something about a different world that you can be a part of, because somebody in that world wants you to be part of
them
. Maybe he's got some savior thing going on. Then there was just the attraction.”

She shook her head and seemed to be searching for words.

“I can see how it might have happened,” Steve said. “You were messed up. But you're smart, Sienna. How could you let him drag you into this thing?”

“I'll tell you how,” she said without hesitation. “It's like my dad always told me. There's an enemy who wants to bring us down, and if you open the door, he'll take the invitation.”

“Enemy?”

“The devil.”

“What, you're saying you were possessed by the devil?”

“No. But I felt like I was possessed by Johnny LaSalle. And when I was with him, even when I thought I was totally in love with him, there was a part of me whispering to get out, get away. I should have listened. Just like I should have listened to my father. I want to be able to listen again.”

He started to wonder if she was just feeding him more lies, setting him up for her trial, manipulating him to her side. She'd mouthed so many cool, stiletto lies. “Shouldn't be too hard. You just do it.”

A pained smile curved her mouth. “If it was only that simple. I didn't listen the whole time I was with him. We set you up. We lied to you. To your face. At first I could do it, but then I started to . . .”

“To what?”

She looked at him. “Have feelings.”

“You sound like a Hallmark card,” Steve said.

“I guess I do. But I'm saying it anyway. I was pulled in two directions, and Johnny seemed to know it. His pull was stronger in me. When they took you off that day, the day you saw Johnny and me in the window, I was about ready to die myself.”

“Not much help,” Steve said.

“Then Johnny told me it was all right, that you were just going to be taken away for a while. Until Eldon was . . . removed. By then he had some feelings too, if you can believe it.”

Steve said nothing.

“You know the rest,” she said.

“It's not over yet,” Steve said. “The feds think you were a hostage. As soon as they start questioning you, things might get hairy. Even for a good liar like you.”

“I'm through with that.”

“Sure,” Steve said, not at all sure of anything. “I strongly advise you get a lawyer, preferably one who is not me.”

Sienna shook her head. “I'm going to tell the FBI everything it wants to know about Beth-El and the LaSalles.”

“That could lead to a conspiracy rap. Get representation.”

She smiled. “Still holding up the finest traditions of the bar, huh?”

“At this point, Sienna, I'm holding on for dear life. But there's one thing I'm not able to do, try as I might.”

“What's that?”

“Hate you.”

“You don't?”

“No.”

“I'll take it.”

Steve thought she meant it, really meant it this time, in spite of the past. Maybe that was the best way to leave it. “I know a guy,” he said. “Good federal defense lawyer. I'll send him your way.”

She shook here head. “Forget it. I'm talking. If I go away, I go away. I guess I'll never practice law, though, huh?”

“Most states'll let you, even after a conviction, when some time passes. Who knows? Maybe going through all this will make you a better lawyer. Maybe I'll be a better lawyer too.”

“There's no doubt in my mind,” she said.

“One more question,” Steve said.

She waited.

“All that time you were lying to me,” he said, “and giving me the line that you were a good girl and all, did you ever think there might be a God looking down and thinking,
Hey, I do not like what
she's doing.”

“All the time,” she said without hesitation. “Call it perverse, but there it was. And still I went on. Now I'll have plenty of time to beg him to forgive me.”

“Well,” Steve said, “I hope he does. I guess we all need that in one way or another. So I really hope he does, Sienna.”

“He will,” she said. “That's the only thing I'm sure of now, the one thing I have to hold on to.”

“Then hold,” Steve said.

EIGHTY

Three days later, Steve stopped at the Sheridan Arms and found that his old apartment was still for rent.

“You come back!” Jong Choi said, not asking a question.

“I come back,” Steve said.

“Oh! You know seven? You call cops.” He produced a card from a drawer and handed it to Steve.

The card was LAPD. A detective named Holmes. Not Sherlock. Lee.

“Seven?” Steve said.

“Arrest,” Jong Choi said.

“The kid in number seven?”

Choi nodded vigorously.

Steve went out to the courtyard and called the number. Holmes was in. Told him that Chris Riley, Numba Sev'n's real name, had been caught with a lot of hot stuff, including Steve's computer. So Numba had turned thief, and was now residing in the county jail. And, Holmes wanted to know, would Steve come in and make a statement?

Yeah, he would. And as he clicked off the phone he decided something else. He didn't know where it came from, but there it was. He would go down to the jail to see the kid. Try to talk some sense into him.

He'd tell him a story, about prisons and cons, about the way they end up by staying stupid. He'd give the kid one shot because there aren't too many breaks in the world. Steve had been given one. So he'd pass it along to somebody else.

It didn't make much sense. Steve knew the odds. But he also knew he just had to do it.

He heard a mew at his feet.

Nick Nolte padded around him with a feline nonchalance that said,
I didn't really miss you but I'm glad you're back anyway.

“I love you too,” Steve said as he picked up the cat. “Come on and give me a hand. I mean, a paw.”

He started moving some of his belongings into the apartment. Managed to get half the stuff in before Mrs. Stanky stuck her head out as he walked by and carped about needing some Milk of Magnesia as if he'd never left. He assured her he'd get it.

Then she said, “Get rid of that cat.”

He was home.

Jong Choi helped Steve with his last item, the old trunk. It had been with him the whole way, through every ugly turn and every ray of light. He put it against the bare wall where he once had a sofa.

When he was alone at last, Steve opened the trunk. The photos and papers were scattered around, a random pattern that seemed to match his own patchwork life.

He found the picture of Robert in his train pajamas. The cereal picture. Looked at it for a long time.

Then he got on his knees. He put his hands together over the trunk. And just like when he was five years old, stumbling over words but putting his whole soul into it, he said a prayer for Robert Conroy.

And somewhere in there he said a prayer for himself. It felt good. It felt like he was talking and someone was really listening. It freaked him not at all.

He'd tell Gincy about it in the morning. Gincy would show him what to do next.

When Steve finished his prayer, he lay on the carpet and looked at the ceiling. Full circle. For better or worse he'd landed back in LA.

For better or worse.

He knew then there was one more thing he had to do.

EIGHTY-ONE

He knocked tentatively on Ashley's door. He hoped the shock wouldn't curl her hair. He hoped a lot of things. It was close to evening and she might not even be home.

But she was. She answered in jeans and a crimson sweatshirt, looking like the Ashley he'd known in law school.

“Steve!”

He put his hands out. “Tah dah.”

“I can't believe you're — come in.”

He tried not to look too relieved as he walked through the door.

“You're limping,” she said.

“Have you been following the news?”

“It's all over the place. The ACLU's already filing wrongful-death actions against the government. You weren't inside, were you?”

“Oh yeah.”

They went to the living room. He sat on the sofa, like he'd just come back from court ready to spend an evening with his wife. He remembered doing that. Remembered they had some good times amid all the bad.

He missed even the bad now. Because she had been there with him. At least she'd been there.

“I'm not taking you away from something, am I?” Steve said.

“Not at all,” she said.

“Or somebody?” He let the implication hang in the air.

“No.”

Now Steve tried not to look too happy.

“I'm so glad you're all right,” Ashley said. “Can you tell me about it?”

He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“If you can't right now,” she said, “that's fine. Maybe you need — ”

He was crying.

“Steve.”

“I'm sorry. I'm — ” The tears kept coming. “Sorry.” He got up and almost ran to the kitchen. He tore off a paper towel and put it to his face.

He felt Ashley's hands on his back. “It's okay. Go ahead.”

He did, for about a minute, full out. When it was over the paper towel was soaked. All the time Ashley just stood there, touching his back.

“Man, I'm sorry,” Steve said.

“No.”

“I don't know what happened there.”

“It's okay.”

He turned to face Ashley and she hugged him. Held him.

Steve said, “Would you consider doing something?”

“What's that?”

“Would you let me take you for a hot dog dinner?”

She stepped back and looked at him. “Hot dogs? Are you serious?”

“I just got this wild idea.”

She shook her head, then smiled. “Fries too?”

They drove to Jelty Park, where the carnival was. He parked the car without a word and looked at her.

“Remember?” he said.

She looked pleased for a moment. Then her face got serious. “Steve — ”

“I know. No obligation. Just hot dogs. Deal?”

She paused. “Deal.”

They went in, lights all around, got their dogs and fries at the stand. After that it was talk and even laughs.

An hour passed, then another. They rode the little roller coaster and played a few games. Steve won a stuffed tiger at the milk-bottle throw and gave it to Ashley. She said it reminded her of Steve when he was in trial. “A real tiger,” she said. He liked that.