“Is now when we sacrifice a goat?” she said when she had joined them.
“Watch yourself,” Dale said. He pulled a tiny branch off of the tree, and crushed the needles between his fingers. Off in the distance, a truck’s horn left a smear of sound.
Her father studied the pine needles in his hand for a minute, then looked at her. “The federal investigators had a wiretap on our phone,” he said. “I assume it’s done with, but to be safe, we’re talking out here.”
“You think the house is bugged?”
Her father yanked at the bough, and her mother stood with arms folded looking toward the house.
“Guys,” she said in an annoyed tone. “I hightailed it down here even though this is a massively busy week so that we could once again talk about this disaster. Are we going to sit around in silence or are you going to tell me whatever Dad’s done now that’s apparently so important that I have to drop everything?”
“Don’t address your parents as ‘guys,’” Barbara said sharply.
“Your attitude, Evelyn,” Dale said, but he didn’t complete the thought. He finished denuding the branch and then threw it on top of his car, which was parked on the gravel. “They’ve started to turn over discovery in the case, Evelyn. It’s not as weak as we, I, thought. I’m not guilty of this. I want to be crystal clear on that. The wiretaps are challenging. An entirely innocent person, which I am, can sound suspect if a wiretapped conversation is taken out of context. The criminal-justice system in this country is so heavily stacked against anyone accused of anything, and white-collar crimes can get into huge suggested sentences, ten, fifteen years. I’m sixty-four. That’s an effective life sentence.”
“I thought your whole thing was there was no case,” Evelyn said.
“I can’t roll the dice at trial. I know how juries work and I’ve thought about it, I’ve discussed it with my lawyer, I’ve discussed it with your mother, and I, we, just can’t take the chance.”
“You’ve said all along you did nothing wrong.”
“It’s not worth the risk of trial. Rudy, my lawyer, is working with the government on a plea deal for obstruction of justice, which is a less serious offense than bribery, and if we can work something out, I think that’s the best option.”
“With no jail?”
“Prison,” Barbara murmured.
“What?” Evelyn said.
Barbara pursed her lips. “It’s prison. Jail is for short-term offenses, or so I’ve learned. We’ve already had to completely separate ourselves from anyone connected with the firm. I saw Sally the other day at the club and had to—”
“You’ll avoid prison, right?” Evelyn asked her father.
Dale pressed his hands against his jaw. “We’ve asked for a probationary sentence, but there’s a chance the judge will impose prison time,” he said.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
Evelyn started shaking her head. “Hold on. Hold on. Juries are your thing. You’re supposed to be able to convince juries of everything. That’s what you always claimed, didn’t you? Those newspaper articles and those awards? All those awards? Yet you don’t think you can convince a jury of your own innocence? Really? Because I would think if you were really innocent, maybe you could use all your skills so you aren’t leaving me and Mom and spending time in prison. I thought you were the guy who got to say what was right and what was wrong and whether my job and requests for money were worthy or not, not the guy who goes to prison because he can’t handle the evidence the government has against him. Aren’t you that guy, Dad? Or no, apparently, you aren’t. Apparently, you, too, can do something wrong. Because guess what? Innocent people don’t have to plead guilty. Guess what else? They don’t go after innocent people randomly. If you’d been more careful, like your partners apparently were, none of this would’ve happened. Rules aren’t that hard to follow except, apparently, for you.”
She heard a loud thump and jumped back, then connected it with her father’s fist, which he’d slammed into the tree. His eyes were deep with anger.
“I do not know, Evelyn Beegan, when you became such a first-class brat,” he said.
The moment did not end; he kept jamming his knuckles against the tree. Then he looked over his shoulder and the hurt Evelyn saw in his eyes made her feel unbalanced. He walked to the car, jumped in, revved the engine, and slammed the door shut as he sped off.
She turned to explain herself to her mother, but Barbara was already heading toward the house.
Evelyn touched her cell phone in her pocket, feeling lost, feeling like she needed someone to tell her she was okay, and, without considering it too carefully, dialed Scot.
“Ev? I’m just getting into a cab, sorry. How’s home?”
“I’m fine. I’m good,” Evelyn said.
“Everything’s going okay?”