Jude Page 5

  After the descriptions of the trial there was another bunch of opinion pieces. From these Jude gathered that a lot of people were angry that his father hadn’t gotten a heavier sentence. Then there were a few profiles on his mother’s career after the trial. He was glancing through these when he turned over an article and saw the picture. It was a photograph of Anna cradling a baby in her arms. He realized with a shock that the baby was him. He studied the picture more closely. It had obviously been staged—Anna had a forced, self-conscious smile as she displayed him for the camera. Jude remembered Harry had told him that Anna was never a motherly type, even when he was born. Had she even minded when his father took him? he wondered bitterly, and quickly turned it over.

  That’s when he came across the article that explained the rest.

  * * *

  Prosecutor’s Son Kidnapped, Husband Missing Convicted Police Officer Sought as Suspect

  CITY HALL—City prosecutor Anna Grady reported yesterday in a frantic call to police that her three-week-old son, Michael, had been kidnapped from her house in Longmeadow late last night. It is the latest shocking trauma in her highly publicized divorce.

  The police confirmed late yesterday that Anthony Arvelo, Grady’s husband of almost two years, is being sought as a suspect. Arvelo was recently convicted of abusing Grady during their marriage. The police said that Arvelo apparently cleared out the apartment where he had been living since the beginning of the abuse trial, and that a car he had borrowed from a fellow police officer was found at a train station near Grady’s residence.

  Police commissioner Joseph Lauria said in a prepared statement, “{The police department regrets} that Officer Arvelo is a suspect in this case, and we ask that any person with knowledge of Officer Arvelo’s whereabouts contact the department immediately.” Lauria added that if the child was kidnapped, the Federal Bureau of Investigation may become involved in the search. “We ask that Officer Arvelo turn himself in immediately,” Lauria said, “to avoid any more-serious consequences.”

  Detectives found evidence that a ladder was used to gain access to the second-story window of the room where the baby slept, the police said. The screen on the window had been cut with a knife or box cutter, and it appeared the child was taken through the window and down the ladder while the mother and a housekeeper were downstairs, police said.

  Anna Grady was unavailable for comment.

  The police department recently dismissed Arvelo after his conviction for domestic battery in a widely publicized case one month ago. Grady, the city’s prosecutor for domestic violence cases, had filed charges with her own office almost a year ago, stating that Arvelo had abused her verbally and physically. Other reports later confirmed that she had been pregnant with Arvelo’s child at the time. Grady gave birth to her son, Michael, three weeks ago at St. Luke’s Hospital. Grady’s courage in confronting domestic abuse in her own situation has made her a celebrity and a champion of women’s issues. “I was silent for too long,” Grady said in an interview, “and the right thing to do was to come forward and tell the truth.”

  Arvelo was convicted of one charge of domestic battery. He was placed on probation for one year and was under a restraining order. Yesterday some members of the DA’s office, who requested anonymity, questioned the prudence of that decision. “This was just another case of a police officer getting special treatment,” said one prosecutor.

  Lauria said he has appointed Harry Wichowski, Arvelo’s partner of eight years on the force, to lead the investigation into the alleged kidnapping. Wichowski said that he volunteered to head the investigation because he believes he knows the suspect the best. “Anthony and I were friends—are friends—and if this allegation is true, then I’m going to encourage him to come forward, or to find him if he doesn’t,” Wichowski said.

  * * *

  Harry hadn’t succeeded. Jude didn’t need to look at the rest of the articles to know that despite his best efforts he had gotten nowhere in the investigation.

  Jude carefully replaced the articles, then he tucked the shoe box under the bed. He decided that if his mother or Harry asked for them back, he would tell them that he was keeping them, but it turned out no one but Dolores, the housekeeper—who dutifully moved them to vacuum every week—touched them for years.

  9

  “CAN I COME IN and talk to you for a minute?” Harry asked, cracking open the door of Jude’s room.

  Harry and Anna had been closeted in her study for most of the morning, preparing for the press. Jude had watched some TV, occasionally wandering out into the hallway to see if they’d emerged yet. Finally he had retreated up to his room. He was feeling strange—aimless and out of place. This must be what it had been like before he arrived—just Anna and Harry. Before today both Anna and Harry had been careful to include Jude. He’d felt part of things. That morning it seemed they’d forgotten about him, so he felt a burst of relief when he heard the tap on his door.

  “Sure, come on in,” Jude said, sitting up on his bed and punching the volume on the stereo lower with the remote control.

  Harry entered and pulled the desk chair over next to the bed.

  “What’s up? Is everything okay?” Jude asked.

  “What? Oh, yes, fine,” Harry said. “We were just talking about strategy. But I thought I’d come up and clear up a few details.”

  “Details?”

  “About the night your father was killed.”

  The relief he felt at seeing Harry disappeared and was replaced by a knot in his stomach. Jude didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. He just shrugged an okay.

  “Anna thought it would be better if I talked to you about it. She still feels badly about how she treated you at the station. She thinks it’s best if she stays completely out of the investigation, and I agree.”

  Jude nodded.

  “Listen, I don’t want you to worry. This isn’t an interrogation, and I’m not here as deputy police commissioner. I’m here as your friend. I want to help … well, smooth things over for you. You know, clear some things up. Does that sound okay?”

  Jude nodded again.

  “Anna mentioned there was an … ah … mix-up with your story. You were probably just confused and scared when you talked to the detectives, right?” Harry looked to him for agreement, and Jude nodded one more time.

  “That’s what I thought. But Anna tells me the detectives may have gotten the wrong idea. They thought you knew something—or even that you might have been involved. So I just need you to tell me they’re wrong and that you didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “I didn’t,” Jude said promptly.

  “That’s good … that’s good, I didn’t think you could have. Even though I know your dad was probably a little tough to get along with sometimes—hell, he was my partner for years. But I told you that, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah,” Jude said. “I remember.”

  “Right. Now, I just want to get this thing cleared up for you and your mother. Can you give me a reasonable explanation for what happened in the apartment?”

  “It happened like I said,” Jude told him. He’d considered this and decided even if there were holes, it was best to stick to the same story.

  Harry leaned forward in the chair. “Jude, trust me,” he said. “I can help you. I think you don’t want to tell me because you think I’m going to report it, right? But I’m not. I swear to you. I think you and your mother have been through enough.”

  He paused and looked closely at Jude. “I understand why you did it,” he said. “Your father used to hit your mother, too, you know. And I don’t see why either of you should have to go through any more because of him. I don’t want to see you put through a trial, and it could be even worse for Anna. That kind of publicity could seriously compromise her career, and I think she’s destined for big things. So if you’ll just admit to me that you had something to do with it, I can help. I can make sure that the pressure eases off and no one ever b
others you again. It will be almost as if it never happened, and no one will ever know. No one but me and you. I won’t even tell Anna.”

  Jude had been determined to deny everything, but as he listened to Harry’s speech he got an idea. He knew that Harry’s offer of protection extended only to Jude. If he told Harry the truth and said that he didn’t have anything to do with it, Harry wouldn’t cover for the real shooters. But if he made Harry believe that he was involved, Harry would cover for him. There would be plenty of time to tell the truth—later, when things were better. In the meantime, if Harry could really do what he claimed, it would solve everything.

  “You can get the detectives to leave me alone?” Jude asked.

  It was almost an admission.

  “I’m pretty sure I can,” Harry said after a moment.

  “And you won’t tell Anna? You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “And you won’t ask me for the details?”

  “I just need to know the truth,” Harry said.

  Jude took a deep breath. “Okay.”

  “Okay what?”

  “Okay, you’re right.”

  Harry nodded. “Just one more thing. Will the police find anything? I mean anything conclusive? There’s no chance anyone else is going to come forward and … talk, is there?”

  Jude was confused for a moment, then he realized, of course, Harry knew from the details of the case that even if he had been involved, he hadn’t acted alone.

  Jude shook his head.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure,” he said. If innocence couldn’t protect him, he thought, then nothing could.

  Harry leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Thanks for being straight with me. I’ll see what I can do to get the heat off you. Just stick to whatever you’ve been telling them, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  AND HARRY WAS as good as his word. Jude had to see the detectives only once more—a couple of days later—but this time they met at Anna’s house, not down at the station, and Harry was there with him and did most of the talking. He orchestrated the meeting with Burwell and Grant with a subtle blend of flattery and threat. He said he wasn’t working in his official capacity. He claimed he was acting merely as a representative for Anna, but even Jude could tell that the power of his office was there, understood if not invoked.

  “Jude didn’t see anything,” Harry said firmly, and he made it clear that no one on the investigation was to make even the slightest suggestion that he had. Then Harry asked them if they were close to making an arrest.

  Burwell laughed and said, didn’t he think that he was getting a bit demanding? Maybe they’d be closer to an arrest if they could get a little help. Maybe Jude could give them a hint.

  Sorry.

  Grant suggested that they could give Jude the names, and he could just pick one. Whichever struck him.

  Harry shook his head.

  Burwell said they didn’t know when they’d have an arrest. The investigation wasn’t going as well as they would like. Leads were thin. They didn’t have much beyond the next-door neighbor’s statement. Then he mentioned that the chief was concerned about public pressure for an arrest when the story hit the papers.

  Harry appeared to consider the problem, but when he spoke, it was clear that he had already anticipated this possibility. He said that he could probably help them with the press. He might even be able to engineer it so that there was almost no pressure at all.

  “Not possible,” Burwell said, but he said it hopefully, as if he were asking Harry to tell them he was wrong.

  Harry obliged. “Consider it done,” he told them.

  And it was done.

  The articles that were published on the case made the murder look almost like an act of God. Jude read them, and they all described Jude’s father as a man who had beaten his wife, stolen her child, and become a drug dealer. It was never directly stated, but it was certainly implied that the victim in this case had deserved what he got, not to mention that his murder was what ultimately brought mother and son back together again. There was usually one short paragraph at the end about the ongoing investigation, and that was it.

  There wasn’t even a hint in any of the articles that Jude knew anything. The way it was presented, Jude could do no wrong. According to the papers, evil was vanquished and this was the happily-ever-after ending. According to the papers, it was a triumphant reunion and they had settled down peacefully as a family, as if fifteen years had been merely a blip on the radar.

  And that had seemed to be true—for those first few days. But now the paradise the papers described had disappeared. After the story broke, life turned strange, almost surreal. Cameramen, photographers, and reporters camped outside the house. Anna spent most of her time either on the phone to her office, huddled over the kitchen table with Harry, or talking to reporters. Jude sometimes hung around the kitchen, listening to their conversations, but eventually ended up retreating into the family room and watching TV.

  Harry and Anna were so busy handling things they didn’t have much time for him. They apologized, but he was left very much on his own. The only one who really talked to him during the day was Dolores, Anna’s housekeeper. Dolores was a short, squat woman who always spoke in commands—“Don’t put your feet up on the couch when you’re wearing shoes,” “Don’t leave your glass of orange juice out on the counter,” “Don’t leave your wet towel on the floor of the bathroom.”

  Living with his father, he had always been the one to pick up the clothes and papers from around the apartment, or to stand over the sink cleaning the dishes when he got home from school. He always thought that having someone else to do it for him would be great, but he hadn’t reckoned on Dolores.

  By the evening of his first day with Dolores in the house he had decided to tell Anna that it was either Dolores or him. She’d have to choose. But he changed his mind that evening—when he tasted her cooking. For fifteen years Jude had lived on canned and frozen food. The last few days they’d survived on takeout. Dolores’s food wasn’t fancy, but it was home cooked and tasted great. The first night he went through two servings, and there was barely enough to go around. Dolores grumbled but made twice as much the second night, and there was enough for him to stuff himself until he felt like he could barely get up from the table—and when he glanced over at Dolores as she was clearing the dishes, he thought he almost caught her smiling.

  THE WORST OF the media blitz was over in a week. All together Jude had been living there less than two weeks, but he had almost forgotten about his old life until one evening when his mother turned to him during dinner and asked, “Where did you used to go to school?”

  Jude suddenly realized that he hadn’t thought about the fact that school was going on without him. While all this stuff had been happening, the guys were still back there cutting class and playing ball. R. J. must be wondering what had happened to him. Then Jude realized that they probably knew what had happened. Someone would have seen the papers. It would be all over school by now.

  “I go to Hartford High,” he told her.

  “And how did you like it?”

  “It’s all right,” he said. “I’ve got this one good friend, R. J., and we have a lot of classes together, so that’s pretty cool.”

  Jude liked Hartford High better than any other school he had attended, mainly because he’d been there for a couple of years and most of the kids didn’t do much better in the classes than he did. Jude had always struggled in school—they had never stayed in one place long enough for him to feel comfortable. Whenever they moved, the new class seemed to be at a different point. Either they were in the middle of a lesson and he had to work to catch up, or they were learning something he’d already done—which meant he got only half of some things, while he got others twice, and some he missed completely. As time went on, he fell further and further behind.

  “When do you think you’ll be ready to go back to school?”

 
; Jude shrugged. “I could go whenever.”

  “I’m asking because I can’t take off any more work. I’d love to spend more time with you, but with my position … you understand, right?”

  “Sure,” Jude said. “Course.”

  “I have to go back to work on Monday, but if you need some more time, you can stay home. Dolores will be here during the day.”

  “I could go back Monday, but I’ll probably need a note. I missed a bunch of tests.” He thought of R. J. and wondered if he had managed to dig up his brother’s old history tests. If he had, and Miss Perez really did use the same tests every year, Jude might actually be able to get a good grade in the class.

  “But Jude, you do know that you won’t be going back to your old school, don’t you? You don’t live in that school district anymore.”

  “So where am I gonna go?” Jude asked.

  “I talked to the headmaster of Benton Academy. He’s agreed to waive the entrance exam as long as you’re willing to work hard.”

  Even Jude had heard of Benton Academy. It was an exclusive private school in West Hartford, more like a college campus than a normal high school, and it had been a regular joke back at Hartford High. Whenever one of his friends had passed a test or was caught studying, they’d tease him and say, “What, you trying to get into Benton or something?” Never in a million years had he thought he would have a chance of going.

  “I can’t go there,” he almost whispered.

  “Why not?” Anna said.

  For the first time Jude realized that his mother had no idea what his life had been like up to that point—she couldn’t possibly know if she didn’t see why it was impossible for him to switch from Hartford High to Benton Academy. But he didn’t know how to put it into words, so he said simply, “I’m not smart enough.”