How could he have been so blind, to let Ira take him over during a time of such extreme emotional trauma? It was the first time he’d seen his father in eight years, and instead of handling the situation himself, he just handed the job to Ira, of whom he was already suspicious enough. Why was he so stupid?
And how could he have betrayed his mom the way he had? How was she supposed to get through this without him there? And now it wasn’t only Jon’s return she had to deal with, it was his death, and her son’s possible incarceration for his murder. How was she supposed to live with that, to get through everything, without him? It was his job to keep her safe, and he had failed.
The barred door opened with a screech of metal. He looked up, only lifting his head marginally. He could see his mother in the background of the room beyond the door, but she was mostly blocked by the two policemen who were entering ahead of her. They stood on either side of the door and beckoned to him, one of them muttering, “C’mon, kid, it’s time to go.”
Though he moved sluggishly and quite reluctantly, Matthew did rise and follow the police out of the cell. He tried to see his mother as he passed her, but he didn’t dare meet her eye. He knew how much he’d hurt, embarrassed, and shamed her in the last five or so hours, and he wouldn’t dare do more by looking at her directly.
The guards finally reached a door that led to a typical interrogation room, one common to the eyes of avid viewers of television detective shows. The police sat Matthew in a nondescript metal chair before a nondescript metal table. One stayed next to him while the other circled the table and sat on the other side of it. He sat perfectly still, hands folded on the table in front of him and eyes transfixed on Matthew’s. When Matthew refused to do anything but stare straight back at him, the cop said simply, “What happened back there?”
Matthew turned his head, the lump forming in his throat at the memory of Sari. He licked his lips, bracing himself for the confession. Finally his mouth opened and he spoke, his voice dull and straightforward. He could afford no emotion right now, not with Ira lingering so dangerously close to the surface of his conscious mind.
“I killed him.”
His words rang in the cold, interrogatory air. He could feel the policeman’s next patient, well-rehearsed question pressing on the air around them as it approached his lips to be asked.
“Why did you kill them, son?” His voice was small but clear. Matthew could tell he didn’t want to hear why, didn’t want to listen to what he thought was a mad killer confessing his deepest darkest reasons for killing. But it had to be asked. And now it had to be answered. He took a steadying breath.
“He was my father. He left us when I was eight years old, and my mom turned to stone after he was gone. I hated him for destroying her. So I killed him.”
The cop seemed to consider Matthew’s reasoning, the corners of his mouth curled down in a thoughtful expression and his head nodding like a buoy bobbing gently up and down with the waves of the open sea.
“But,” he started carefully, considering Matthew dangerous, “what about the girl?”
Matthew’s throat caught and he almost lost his cool. But he had to divert them from Sari and make them see why Jon deserved his fate.
“Look,” he began slowly, “I never meant to hurt her. I never even knew he had a daughter until I saw them together at the counselor’s office. I truly regret what happened to Sari, but—”
“Sari?” the cop nearest Matthew snapped as he bent and slammed his hand on the table before Matthew, making him jump. “You know her name? How could you know her name if you didn’t even know she existed?” His tone was accusatory, like he saw right through this murderer’s sad disguise and wanted nothing to do with it.
“Jon said it out loud while we were both in the waiting room,” Matthew pressed, praying the earnestness was showing in his eyes, because he already knew he’d failed to sound like anything but annoyed and completely guilty. “If you don’t believe me, that’s your MO, but don’t try to make it out as mine.” He heard his voice rising and stopped himself before he got out of hand. This was a delicate time, and only he could handle it—Ira would go on a rampage.
The more interrogatory cop seemed desperate to return the room to its original atmosphere. “No one has any MO, Matthew,” he said quickly, rising only slightly from his seat and pressing his palm gently down through the air, signaling for his partner to calm down. “We’re just talking here.” His partner reluctantly took the hint, straightening his posture and visibly squaring his shoulders, his dark, angry eyes staring straight ahead at the blank cement wall opposite him. The other cop relaxed, cracked his neck twice, then looked back at Matthew. “Go on.”
Breathing out a bit to relax himself, Matthew answered him. “Jonathan Thorne is a horrible man. He should have never married my mother and, though I value my life and Sari’s, he should have never procreated. He ruined my mother’s life, so I ruined his. I never thought I would actually get the chance to avenge her. I never even really considered it before. It’s just when I saw him, I couldn’t stop myself. I know murder is a crime, but it wasn’t this time. It was justice.”
After blinking away a few preliminary tears, he continued with the hardest thing to say yet. “I didn’t mean to hurt Sari. I only wanted to save her from him. I wish I could have taken her with me after he died so my mother and I could have—” He choked, paused to let it clear, and went on. “We could have raised her, far away from him and everything he would have done to hurt her.”
As the silence became almost too much to bear, a single tear escaped his eye before he could mask it, clinging only briefly to his ginger eyelashes before splashing onto the metal tabletop. The corner of his mouth twitched, begging to let him sob, but as long as the police were near he couldn’t allow it. He would cry later. Right now, his self-control was the only thing keeping them safe. Keeping them alive.
After some penciling-in of other details, Matthew was escorted out of the interrogation room to go back to his cell. Sarah was still standing outside the door, and accosted him as soon as they opened the door.
“I don’t want you to worry, okay Sweetheart?” she said breathlessly as she followed her son and the two policemen, none of whom were slowing down. “I’m going to find you a lawyer, and this will all be over before you know it. I promise you, Matthew, I promise you!” Her last words echoed through the blank walls as the trio rounded a corner into the private sector of criminal cells.
Days inched by like decades for Matthew. The endless monotony of the time he spent in his cell was only broken by daily visits from his mother. Sarah was convinced of two things: that the public defender was biased toward helping the prosecution, and that Matthew could get out of this with little to no jail time. Based on the amount of Law & Order she watched, she thought that he could probably plead guilty for a shorter sentence, or maybe even be found not guilty if they found the right lawyer. Every day, through the telephone and soundproof glass, she would tell him about her research into good lawyers, and though she always tried to sound optimistic, her constant visits only dampened Matthew’s spirits. He knew she hated the thought of what he had done, and all this lawyer talk was her way of trying to both justify and detach herself from his crime. It hurt him to see her.
One day, however, as he sat in the chair on his side of the soundproof glass, he saw Sarah approaching with a tall man following closely behind her. He had dark curly hair that stuck up liked he’d been playing with it a lot; dark, squinting eyes; oily, porous olive skin; and a thick black mustache. Something in his face was off, like he’d practiced for a long time to look purposefully unpleasant but had a naturally good look to his face. Sarah was all smiles as they pulled up their seats on the opposite side of the glass. She lifted the receiver and the voice that greeted Matthew’s ear was one more full of genuine hope than he’d heard her use in a long time.
“Hi, Matt,” she said, somewhat breathlessly. “Everything okay today?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Matthew answered cautiously. He was still studying the man his mother had arrived with. “Who’s he?”
“Oh.” Sarah was pink as she turned to face the man. “His name is Thomas Randall. He’s going to be your lawyer. I met him a while ago at work, and just learned yesterday that he was a criminal defense attorney. He’s agreed to take on your case! And guess what—he knows a way we can probably get you out of this!”
Matthew’s heart leapt, but he was still skeptical, so he tried to control his excitement as he continued to speak. “How?” He addressed Randall directly. “What did you find?”
Randall took the phone from Sarah and placed it against his own ear. When he spoke, Matthew could tell his voice was actually thin and airy, but he was forcing a deep, serious tone into it to sound more professional. The rest of his appearance seemed to follow suit—his attire looked expensive, but it also looked ancient and rather creased; his hair and skin were clean, but oily nonetheless. The man was a maze of contradictions.
“When you were first detained, you were interrogated by the police at the station, right? And what you told them was recorded as your official statement and you signed it as your confession? Well, you didn’t have an attorney present at the time, so regardless of what you said, it makes no difference. You were never made aware of your rights to have an attorney, and therefore made rash decisions during a traumatic time without counsel. Everything you said has to be swept from the record!”
Matthew stared at him for a moment, trying to decide whether this man was crazy or just plain stupid. “Great. That is true, I never heard my Miranda Rights. So, that just leaves the fifteen or so people who saw me throw Jon through the window. No problem, right?”
Sarah bit her lip, obviously let down. Randall, however, was smiling.
“I know, kiddo,” he answered slyly. “But I’ve been doing this my whole life. And regardless of all the people who saw you and heard you, when we put you on the stand, your story will have the jury signing your release papers through tears. Just trust me.” He winked. “Okay?”
Matthew tried very hard not to grimace. This guy sounded a bit like a character he’d seen in a musical Sarah had made him watch. What was he going to have him say, that Jon had stalked him and now this murder was self-defense? No, maybe Jon had actually committed suicide and this murder was all a fake. It sounded very fishy and unstable, but he was sure Randall was doing this job pro-bono, and if not a single lawyer his mother had called yet would take his case, he had no choice. Matthew sighed. Randall was his one shot. He just had to pray it was one worth taking.
Finally he decided sitting alone wasn’t good for either of them, and he went downstairs about the time he would have normally gone down for dinner. His mother was sitting on the couch watching the news. Matthew plopped down beside her, ready to ask what there was to eat in the house, when he noticed something he’d never before seen his mother doing—she was eating ramen noodles from a small stovetop pot. His eyebrow shot up in confusion, and Sarah looked at him wearily. She put down the pot and took hold of his hand, smiling a little, but the smile was real. Matthew looked at her properly for the first time in longer than he could remember: she was wearing a huge blue knit sweater and some form fitting black work out pants, and her sandy, shoulder-length hair was tied in a small knot at the nape of her neck, her fringe bangs dangling and straggly before her blue eyes. Somehow, at that moment, Matthew thought she’d never been more beautiful.
“What is it, Mom?” he asked quietly.
Her grip on his hand seemed to tighten a little, but her radiance did not diminish. “Matthew,” she began, sounding almost shy, “do you think I’m lonely?”
Matthew was a bit taken aback by the sheer randomness of the question. “I guess… yeah. Especially with me gone lately. Why?”
Her shoulders shrugged absently. “Do you worry about me when you’re away?”
“Of course I do, Mom, I love you.”
She smiled wider. “I know you do, honey,” she answered. She bit her lip again, not out of worry this time, but out of puzzlement of how to phrase her next sentence. “You see, I’m starting to realize that one day you’ll have to leave me, either because of the outcome of this case or, hopefully, college. But I don’t want to be alone when you leave, and I don’t want you to worry about me. So…I’ve been looking around, and…”
Matthew took his hand away. He had been watching her body language and he knew what was coming next. She’d found someone, some guy who said he could take care of her. And now she was going to tell Matthew that she was great and everything would be all right.
And he was furious.
“Fine,” he said angrily. “Go on, take your man-dream and live happily ever after. I’ll just go hang out with Mr. Randall for another few months until the jury laughs him out of the court and me into prison, then you and your little boyfriend can run away and live together forever, not a care in the world.” He stood up and started to walk away.
“Matthew Angel Thorne!” Sarah cried, standing up and looking at him forcefully, looking like the powerful woman she once was. “Don’t you dare speak to me that way. Get back over here, we are not done.”
Matthew stayed standing where he was, but he did turn to face her.
“I’m not telling you this because I’m replacing you. I’m telling you this so you know that I’m okay while you’re gone and if you have to leave. I’m telling you this so you don’t have to worry. I know you, Matthew, you always worry about me, but you don’t have to. I was hoping you’d be happy for me.” She was chewing her lip again, though not as adamantly as she had before.
Matthew looked her straight in the eye. “Honestly, Mom…” he started, though he didn’t know where he would go with the sentence once it began. His lip started to tremble and his eyes to well, and before he could control himself he was crying and sinking to the floor. Sarah was at his side in an instant.
“Matt!” she whispered consolingly. “What happened, honey, what’s wrong?”
After sobbing for a moment into the floor, Matthew lifted his head and choked, “I’m sorry I’m not enough…”
Sarah grabbed him firmly by the shoulders and made him look her in the eye. “Don’t you ever think that way again, do you understand me? You’re my son, and I love you with all my heart. Do you understand?”
Matthew nodded vigorously, then collapsed in a fit of tears into her sweater. Sarah patted his back and let him cry.
“I’m so… so scared… Mom…” He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He felt like his life was about to end. He cried harder.
Sarah’s voice was choked but strong. “I know, sweetie. Mommy’s scared too.”