for her meant exposure for me. If she confessed to kidnapping her son, I was guilty of aiding a felon.
“Maggie, you know you can’t—”
“Like it’ll make a difference now?”
“Yeah, it will.”
“The damage is already done, Edward. Don’t you see?”
I’m not sure whether Ben got the subtext of our argument, what with his eye on his phone, but before Edward could answer, he made a frustrated sound. “Too late. Brandt is at the house.”
The defeat in his voice was small consolation. Carter Brandt being anywhere near her son was the last thing Grace had wanted. Apparently, though, I couldn’t have gotten to Chris in time even if I had rushed out when Jay had.
But where to go now? What to do? How to help? I drew a blank.
* * *
My sense of helplessness was even greater an hour later as live coverage of Congressman Carter Brandt’s press conference filled the large-screen TV. The archetypal everyman in his rolled-sleeve shirt and jeans, he stood before folk art in the lobby of the Town Hall and spoke of his joy at being finally reunited with his son after these painfully long years apart. His eyes were moist, his voice cracked. Chris wasn’t standing with him, but was “safe at last,” the congressman said repeatedly, which meant he had been stashed where none of us could reach him.
“Sanctimonious fucker,” muttered my brother, who sprawled in a nearby armchair.
My mother and I had the sofa. She was stretched out to ease her hip, but we didn’t touch. I was curled too tightly into myself at the opposite end, trying to fill the hollowness inside.
The fact that she didn’t comment on Liam’s choice of words said something about her focus on Grace. She glanced up at Edward, who stood at the sofa’s back. “How did the authorities know where you were meeting?”
“They showed up at the Spa looking for Grace,” he said in disgust as he watched the screen. “They threatened Joyce with obstruction of justice if she didn’t tell where she was. She had no choice.”
Congressman Brandt was blathering on now about the tragedy of missing children.
“Merde,” swore Liam. “This is a fucking campaign speech.”
Again, my mother said nothing, but asked Edward, “What will they do to her?”
“Short term?” Tearing his eyes from the TV, he gentled. “Keep her locked up. Jay is working on what comes next.” He pulled out his vibrating phone and studied the screen. To me, in an undertone, he said, “Good. Jay got her papers.”
That was something, at least. Federal agents would be all over the house by now. Our fear was that in tearing the place apart for every last bit of evidence to incriminate Grace, they would confiscate what she had on Carter. We were praying she kept them elsewhere. Apparently so.
“Quels papiers?” Liam asked.
“Liam,” Mom scolded. “Enough.”
“Where?” I asked Edward.
“Her safe deposit box at the bank. The Feds took her key ring, but the bank gives you two keys. She told Jay where to find the second.” When I raised a brow in question, he smiled. “Her spare set of house keys. Joyce had them.”
“Ah. Redemption,” I said but couldn’t muster a smile. The congressman had ended his news conference. A reporter took over and began recapping the case. Clips appeared of Grace being led in handcuffs from the Inn, into a cruiser, into the police station. They were followed by clips from the day we had gone to Rutland for Chris’s court appearance.
Not three weeks ago? How could that be? So much had happened, one domino falling, then another and another, each moving another step back in time. The past was the root of the rest of a life. I was coming to understand that.
“Is the coverage just because he’s a congressman?” Margaret asked.
“And because of the hacking charge,” Edward answered. “It makes for good drama.”
“Look at you there, Maggie!” Liam cried in excitement. When Margaret snapped out his name, his head turned, freckled face fell. “What?” he asked, seeming oblivious.
“This isn’t a game show. It’s a travesty of justice. That doesn’t call for glee on any level. Grace is Maggie’s friend. She’s a sweet woman.”
“How do you know?” he shot back.
Margaret was unruffled, even serene. “She came to see me this morning. It was a quick visit. She was between clients. I wish we could have talked longer. She needs someone.” Her eyes found mine. “When she left, she squeezed my hand and looked straight at me, and what I saw was raw and good.”