Cemetery Road - Greg Iles Page 0,238

twice that I know of in that time. He pretended both episodes were accidental overdoses, but I knew. He was about to become another VA statistic. I really believed a baby was the only thing that might save him. He wouldn’t consider adoption, and if I’d mentioned a sperm donor, he’d have killed me. The thing is, even though I knew the situation wasn’t my fault—the infertility, I mean—I felt like a failure.”

Sitting here listening to Jet, I think of how people in the town see her—smart, tough, put together, in control—the mother of an athlete destined to become a star. No one could imagine the life she’s describing to me now.

“So . . . what did you do?”

Something changes in her voice, an alteration in pitch that renders it more mechanical, less human. “It happened a lot like I told you last night. Sally was ill after surgery. I’d been taking care of her, but it was Tallulah in the bedroom with her that night. Max and I were in their living room, by a fire. We’d all been drinking. Paul was passed out twenty feet away.”

“And?”

“Max asked me what was wrong with Paul. He could see his son dying before his eyes. Killing himself. He said he didn’t blame me, but he wondered why we hadn’t had any kids. He said Paul refused to talk to him about it.”

“So you told Max the truth.”

Jet nods. “He listened. He didn’t say anything for a while. I just sat there, drunk, wondering what the endpoint of all this was. I was very near getting in my car and driving away from that family. I think Max knew that. Sally certainly did. She’d already begged me not to go.”

At last, I realize, I’m hearing the truth.

“Max just threw it out there,” she says suddenly. “I’ll never forget it. He said, ‘Hell, if the problem’s that you can’t get pregnant, we can solve that easily enough. No use anybody dying over that.’ I just stared at him, trying to understand what he meant. I know it sounds sleazy, but . . . it wasn’t like you think. Max wasn’t creepy or lechy about it or anything. Not back then. It was a calculated solution. A transaction. Like, ‘If this is what needs to happen to give Paul a chance, then let’s make it happen.’”

I can’t believe how reasonable it sounds. Maybe from the outside, someone would think she was crazy. But when I put myself in her place, I can almost understand it. “Go on,” I say gently. “I’m not judging you. Seriously. Did you sleep with him that night?”

“No. I thought about it for twenty-four hours. The truth is, I’d considered desperate options before. I’d thought about going to New Orleans and picking up some stranger in a bar. Telling him a different name and having sex with him. But the risks of that just seemed insane.”

Compared to sleeping with your father-in-law? I ask silently.

“I’d also considered asking a male friend to help me. But I didn’t have any male friends I could ask that of. You, maybe. But you weren’t exactly a friend.”

“No. And there’s the resemblance factor.”

Her eyes flash. “Exactly. Any resemblance to you, Paul would have seen in a minute. I think that’s what settled my decision. Because if the baby looked like Max, there’d be no problem. Everybody would simply say he looked like his grandfather, which is the most natural thing in the world. From a logistical point of view, the plan was perfect.”

“But from a psychological one, a nightmare.”

She sighs deeply. “I know that now. The thing is, Marshall . . . it worked. For the first nine or ten years. Max wasn’t weird about it at all. He was a sperm donor, that’s it. Once I was pregnant, he played his role perfectly. And as I told you last night, Kevin was Paul’s salvation. The whole family’s, really.”

“Until Max started getting older?”

“Right. And Sally. We went through all this last night. Kevin started turning into the boy Paul never quite was, at least in Max’s eyes—”

“And Max wants him. God, this is bad. If Paul ever learns the truth, it’ll end in violence. No question.”

Jet gives me a sickly smile. “Do you think anything else would have brought me here like this? The explosive vest, remember? Max has his hand on the detonator. And there are a lot of people standing close to me.”

Me, for one. “He won’t keep your secret forever, Jet. Max

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