Previously: The team gives a press conference, visits Seb Podesta, and gets a mysterious phone call.
Need to catch up on The Spring? Visit the chapter index here:
7:52 PM - Friday, November 6, 2014
Xavier Prep, Outer Richmond District, San Francisco
“Dan — do you think we could get some tea or coffee? I can make it.” Jeannie offered. Who knew how long they’d be waiting for the DEA guy to show up and how long he’d need to talk to them all. “Just point me toward the kitchen.”
The old man waved her off. “I’ll get Larry to make tea. How about some shortbread? I like some shortbread with my tea.” He looked at Jeannie, almost laughing at her stunned face. “Let me take care of it.” Without a word he tottered off with his cane through a side door that swung shut behind him.
“Flint is on his way.” Mark said, suddenly at Jeannie’s shoulder. “He was still at the office.” He heaved a deep sigh.
“He’s got the form for the S-visa? It has to come from the agency —”
“I know how the S-visas work, Jeannie.” He cut her off, rubbing his brow. Mark caught her face-melting stare of irritation. “I — I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I — I haven’t slept in about 36 hours and my brain isn’t even working any more. I’m sorry I yelled before too. I — I just want to get home.” He faded.
“Yeah, so do I.” Jeannie whispered. She wondered where Chris was tonight — probably out at a Warriors game or someone’s birthday or just an IPO dinner at a Michelin starred spot that wouldn’t appreciate her in her uniform. She didn’t even appreciate her uniform; it had felt hot and itchy for hours. She knew this was her weariness — usually it felt comfortable, but today it was irritating. “I asked Dan if we could have some tea.” She closed her eyes for a long second.
“Thank you.” Mark felt uncertain; Jeannie’s mood seemed to change by the second, but so did his own. “I think we should take the weekend, all of us. Regroup on Monday. We all need the rest.” Jeannie nodded silently, looking to the sofa where Paco was chatting quietly with Zoila, Nate Hartman looking on.
“I’m going to talk to Nate.”
The Jesuit with the gray hoodie emerged from the side door with a tray of cups with some boxes of cookies, placing them on the far coffee table — the only one that didn’t currently hold a suitcase full of drugs. He ducked back into the door and re-entered with another tray with a massive tea pot, sugar and cream. Setting down the tray, he began pouring tea into the cups for everyone. Jeannie thought of Margot Dagonet’s elegant tea presentation the day before, but this one felt like a balm. Its simple generosity was the quiet kindness they needed. He stood to offer Jeannie a cup of tea with a slight smile that she was happy to accept.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name when we came in?”
“I’m Brother Lawrence — but the brothers call me Larry — I’m the house manager. You’re all very welcome here.”
“Thank you Brother Lawrence. Hopefully we won’t be in your way much longer.” He smiled as he handed Mark a large mug of tea which he heartily sipped. Brother Lawrence brought a cup of tea over to Zoila, and Nate sprang up to fetch one himself. “Nathan — can we chat over here for a minute?” Jeannie asked him.
“Yeah, of course.” Nate dug into the box of cookies, nabbing a few before following Jeannie to another set of couches near the tea tray.
“Nathan — “ Jeannie began, trying to keep her voice low, “are you sure about this?”
“What do you mean?” His gray eyes looked her over, scanning her face and finally her uniform.
“I mean — I know you’re estranged from your family and I know why. When we heard about some of Tripp’s behavior, we asked for reports and background checks on his brothers too.” Nate’s eyebrows stretched upward at this. “Your records are sealed, but an FBI background check — “
“Didn’t your father tell you?” Nate cut her off. Jeannie felt a rush of heat flood her face. Nate’s look was inscrutable and slightly suspicious.
“N-no, he couldn’t have told me. Your records are sealed.” Jeannie flashed back to the meeting in her father’s office at home on Monday night; she remembered the file and the photographs inside. “We followed up with Brother Driscoll and he filled in the blanks.”
“If he told you, I wouldn’t be mad, you know. I trust your father.” Nathan took a long gulp of his tea and chomped a cookie in turn.
“My - um, Nathan my father is unwell.” Jeannie’s voice fell. “He had a stroke a few months ago and he can’t speak — he types into an iPad to tell us things.” Nate’s face went slack at this, eyes concerned.
“Is - is he going to be okay?” He whispered. “He— he’s such a good man. I — I don’t know — he was very fair with me and he gave me what I deserved. I don’t know where I’d be right now if he hadn’t done that.” Nate looked deflated. “Will you tell him I asked after him? That I’ll pray for him?” Jeannie didn’t know what to do with this. It felt overly intimate and possibly disingenuous, but Nate’s face was earnest.
“Yes of course.” She whispered. “But Nate — whatever happens with Zoila, you’ll be a witness. Your parents will know it was you who brought her to us, that —”
“That I ratted on them.” His face was hard again, eyes cold. “I don’t care. I feel like I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen so I could do something. Do something right. Zoo puts up with so much in that house — they’re condescending and cheap and they do all they can to degrade her. She was like our second mother and she was always there for us even when they weren’t. She’s seen everything for years. She knew all of my Dad’s hiding places — that’s why he gave her all that shit.” He gestured toward the suitcase across the room. “He knew she knew too much, that it would be dangerous for her to do anything about it. It was a classic Jim Hartman set-up.” Nate shook his head. “I fucking hate him.” He whispered.
“Nathan, he’s still your father.” Jeannie countered quietly.
“I wish he weren’t.” Jeannie huffed a deep sigh at this, raising an eyebrow at the young man. “Officer Hagen, tell me — is Tripp in trouble because of that girl that died? Did he do something?”
“As of right now, all we know for sure is that he hosted a Halloween party last Friday night, and a lot of people did a lot of things…” Jeannie faded. “I can’t say more, Nathan.”
“But he’s in this. He did something.” Nate squinted slightly. “That kid’s got issues.” He shook his head again. “It’s too bad — no one’s ever paid enough attention to him. He was always acting out as a way to get our parents to notice him. But Zoo told me that in the last few years he’s been getting in Dad’s way more. It’s almost like he’s encouraging it.”
“Encouraging what?”
“The abuse from our father.” Nathan whispered. “It’s like he just wants to provoke a response because otherwise it’s like they don’t even acknowledge him. I mean, he’s not good at sports like me, he’s not smart like Evan— not that Evan’s all that smart, he’s just smart enough, you know? Smart enough to go to Notre Dame.” Nathan sighed. “I wanted to go to Notre Dame.” His eyes focused off somewhere in the mid-distance as he said it. “I fucked that up though.”
“But you still got a degree and did it on your own. That’s a much bigger accomplishment, Nate.”
“My Dad wouldn’t see it that way.”
“Does your Dad even know?”
“My Dad knows everything. I’m sure he has one of his private investigator goons checking on me every now and again. These are the guys he uses to dig up dirt on people at the law firm — I’m sure he knows exactly where I live and what I do. Another reason why Zooey couldn’t stay there another night.”
“Even if he does know, he’s keeping his distance. That must be reassuring.”
“Reassuring?” Nathan’s eyes flashed at her. “I live my life looking over my shoulder. Even on the Muni I’m scanning my surroundings. I almost never go out at night and when I do, I come home with friends. Do you know what that’s like, to feel so paranoid that your own parent will fuck you up the moment you start to relax?”
“Nate, you need to live your life. You’ve done so much to put everything behind you — where are you working now?”
“I just took the LSAT and I’m working for a non-profit legal advocacy group. I also work in a restaurant in West Portal four nights a week. I’m sure my Dad knows about that too. And he’ll probably do something about my law school applications — I don’t know. He’s got his grubby fingers everywhere.”
“Not if we make this case.” Jeannie looked at him with a slight nod. “And you’ll have helped. I just need you to know that if that does happen, your involvement will be known — there will be press and it’s likely that your story will come out. So, you need to consider if it’s worth it.” Nathan’s eyes shifted slowly, moving from bitterness to surprise and finally resolved with a gleam of determination matched by a slight smile on his face.
9:47PM - The Park Lane, Nob Hill, San Francisco
Jeannie parked Martha in the underground garage and then ducked out the garage door instead of using the elevator. The steep grade of Mason Street fought her tired legs as she walked backwards up the hill to Sacramento Street, taking in deep gulps of the misty night air and the city view below. The lights of North Beach twinkled and diffused in the strands of fog that were just making their way this far east from the ocean. The foghorn from Alcatraz sounded as its light beamed, barely cutting through the encroaching marine layer; she smelled the salty brine on the light wind and closed her eyes, leaning against the wall of the building. Taking in a long breath, she opened her eyes again to watch the fog come in for a long minute. With a shiver, she felt the dried sweat down the her spine and realized she needed a bath and bed.
The front door of 4B was unlocked as usual, the apartment somewhat quiet except for the TV playing off in the den where no doubt her father was waiting for her to appear. She leaned against the closed door and slid down to the floor in a heap, wondering if she’d ever get up again. Usually when she did this, it was in her own room or somewhere less public — the last thing she needed was Langhi or Clara seeing her and thinking she was in a crisis somehow. Her eyes fluttered closed and she knew she needed to move, to get to her room, to get undressed, to bathe. She knew, but she’d just sit here for a minute, and let herself cry for a little while. She heard a toilet flush in the powder room just off the hall, and the door open with a quiet creak.
“Hey — “ Jeannie opened her eyes to see Orla looking down at her with a bemused face.
“Hey — “ she rasped back. Orla moved closer and slid down the door next to her so they sat shoulder to shoulder.
“Tough day, then?” Orla prompted, nudging Jeannie.
“You know, it seems like I end every day this way lately. Just in a crying heap on the floor, one way or another. It’s my life. What are you doing here?”
“We’re all here — Brandon, Chris, even PJ. He even brought cupcakes.”
“What — Chris is here? Why — what is—?”
“Your Dad sent out at text about the press conference, so Brand and I thought we’d come over with pizza, and then Chris came, and then PJ. It’s kind of a family party to celebrate your press conference. Now we were just waiting for you to get home so we could tell ya we love ya.”
“It’s not exactly something to celebrate. And all I did was read a statement.”
“It’s a big deal, Jean. You did well.”
“Did I? How did I look?”
“Just gorgeous. You know it — your hair back, your cheekbones. The way you looked in the camera it was like you knew what to do.”
“I was terrified.”
“I could tell. Your eyes were huge.” Jeannie chuckled a little, wiping her tears.
“Where are they?”
“They’re in the den, waiting for the 10 o’clock news to start. They’ve been checking every channel for hours to catch you. Your father’s so proud.” Jeannie smiled a little.
“Why aren’t you in there?” She asked quietly.
“Oh I needed the jacks. I’ve been…a little under the weather.” Jeannie turned to look at her, her honey blonde hair framing her face in smooth waves. Orla had dark smudges under her eyes, face puffy. Jeannie squinted at her, Orla giving her a side-eye in return.
“What kind of under the weather?” Jeannie asked slowly.
“The kind you’re only supposed to get in the mornings but it actually happens every hour of the damn day.” Jeannie’s face melted into a grin. “Now now I’m not telling anyone but you, you know.” Orla whispered, turning to face her with worried eyes. “I’m—I’m only telling you because if this goes right or it goes wrong, I’m going to need you, okay?” Orla found Jeannie’s hand and threaded her fingers between hers. “I’m scared you know? I can’t lose it again.” Orla whispered.
“You won’t. And yes, you call me for anything. Anything.” She emphasized. She knew Orla and Brandon had been trying, and knew Orla was worried this could be another false hope, but Jeannie realized that while a moment ago she was worn and despondent, now she felt all the hope in the world. She gazed at her sister-in-law, suddenly feeling bubbly. “Brandon knows though?” Jeannie felt tears coming again.
“Of course. But I’m only 2 and a half months and I’m not telling anyone for another six weeks or so — I’m just superstitious. I haven’t even told Ma.”
“Your secret is safe with me. It’s all going to be fine.” She gave Orla a slight nod.
”Didn’t you have wine on Sunday?”
“No - Brand poured me wine, but I didn’t drink it. We worked that out beforehand.”
“Very effective.” They sat for a quiet moment and Jeannie leaned her head against Orla’s shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re here, you know?” She felt Orla huff and she squeezed her hand.
A bout of cheers went up in the den along with a few of Chris’ wolf whistles.
“Ah - the top of the hour. The news begins and it sounds like you’re the lead story.” Orla pushed herself up to standing. “C’mon, up you go.” She reached out her hands and pulled Jeannie to standing, then tenderly reached up to wipe away the last of her tears. “Can’t see your man with a pink face, my lovely.” Jeannie laughed at her.
“I should get out of this gear.”
“Nah - leave it on. Let them see you like the warrior princess you are!” Orla wrapped an arm around her shoulders and Jeannie threaded one around her waist and they squeezed each other as they moved to the den. Another round of cheers went up just as they arrived at the doorway, as a closeup of her face at the press conference was framed by a chyron that detailed the headline: “SFPD seeking information in teen death” followed by the tip line number and website. The judge was in his chair with Langhi and Clara both, grinning next to him, Brandon, PJ, and Chris all taking up chairs watching the screen attentively.
“Who is she, do we know her?” Jeannie said loudly, eliciting more cheers in response as all heads snapped to her. Chris was on his feet clapping as he came towards her with a smile. He reached out to cup her face, leaning in for a long kiss.
“I’m so proud of you.” He whispered, leaning his forehead to hers. She looked up and saw the wonder and pride in his eyes, her heart skipping.
I think a chapter list is a great idea!