Brad Meltzer - The Tenth Justice

“It’s nobody’s fault,” Ben interrupted.

“So no one’s to blame?” Nathan asked. “This is something that just happened out of the blue?”

“Obviously, it didn’t just happen. And if it weren’t for me, Ober would probably still be alive. But that doesn’t mean I killed him.”

“No, you just put the belt around his neck.”

An angry silence filled the room. “You can really be a bastard, y’know that?”

“I just want to make sure that you-”

“That I what?” Ben interrupted, his eyes filled with tears. “That I blame myself? That I think it’s my fault? Don’t worry-I do. I hold myself one hundred percent responsible. I’m the one that put this whole thing in motion, and it’ll haunt me for the rest of my life. Until the day I die, there won’t be a single day that I don’t feel guilty about this.”

“You should feel guilty.”

“Don’t tell me how I should feel,” Ben said, his voice shaking. “Ober was my best friend! I would’ve done anything to save him.”

“You could’ve saved him,” Nathan said. “All you had to do was open your mouth.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Ben lashed out. “How can you be so callous? I was going to the authorities! That’s what tonight was all about! I didn’t know Ober’d kill himself! I didn’t know he was suicidal!”

“And I don’t know what you expect me to say. Do you think that just because you admit it’s your fault, I’ll absolve you of your sins? It doesn’t work like that. You killed him. Now you have to deal with it.”

Enraged, Ben punched Nathan in the stomach. “I DIDN’T KILL HIM!”

Bent over in pain, Nathan struggled to catch his breath.

“I DIDN’T KILL HIM,” Ben repeated. “HE KILLED HIMSELF!”

Still heaving, Nathan ran toward Ben, tackling him and sending them both crashing into the coffee table. The homemade table splintered in two, the yearbooks and the scrapbook sliding onto Nathan and Ben.

Sitting on top of Ben, Nathan grabbed him by the shirt. “Why did you let this happen?” he screamed.

Ben pushed Nathan back and staggered to his feet. “I never wanted this to happen!”

“Then why didn’t you-”

“I wish I could’ve done a million things!” Ben yelled.

“You didn’t have to do a million things,” Nathan said. “All you had to do was one.”

“I swear, I was going to turn myself in tomorrow!”

“Who cares what you were going to do?” Nathan screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Ober died tonight! He’s gone, Ben! We’ll never see him again! Because of you, he’s dead! Ober is dead!”

“Nathan, I-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Nathan said, storming toward the stairs. “Enough of your damn excuses. No matter what you say, I know you killed him. And I hope that thought haunts you forever.”

“I told you already,” Richard Claremont told Rick. “I never touched him. I spent the whole night watching the other three at the Jefferson Memorial.”

“If you’re lying, the police will find you,” Rick warned. “They dusted the entire place for fingerprints.”

“I’m not lying! I didn’t know he killed himself until I got back here.” Taking off his coat, Claremont asked, “And since when are you so concerned about what happens to these guys?”

“I’m not concerned when one of them loses his job, but I am concerned when one of them winds up dead.”

“I don’t know why you’re so shaken by this,” Claremont said, sitting on the plush hotel sofa. “You put them in an impossible scenario-you should’ve expected one of them to snap.”

“I never meant for this to happen!” Rick shouted.

“But you should’ve known-”

“Don’t tell me what I should’ve known,” Rick interrupted. “You can’t anticipate something like this.”

“But-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Rick said. “Drop it.”

“Consider it dropped,” Claremont said. “Now, what are we going to do about the decision?”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Rick pulled a miniature bottle of white wine from the hotel refrigerator. “I’m afraid Ben’s no longer running in the maze.”

“You don’t think he’s going to meet us tomorrow?”

“Not a chance,” Rick said, opening the wine. “He’ll be talking to the authorities by noon.”

“But if he-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rick reassured his colleague. “He’ll never get there.”

Wrapped in a haze of anguish and remorse, Ben walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He undressed and stepped into the hot stream of water, anxious to wash away the past few hours. With his arms outstretched in front of him, he leaned against the front wall of the shower, letting the water glide over his body. For a full three minutes, he stood there, motionless. Slowly and without warning, a quiet fit of weeping overcame him. “I’m sorry, Ober,” he sobbed, as his crying became hysterical. “I’m so sorry.” As the water rushed over him, he imagined carrying Ober’s coffin, and remembered carrying his brother’s. He imagined Ober’s mother’s face when she heard her son was dead, and remembered his own mother’s wails. He imagined the future without Ober, and knew how much he’d miss his brother.

AT A QUARTER AFTER NINE ON SUNDAY MORN ing, Ben put on his coat and picked up his briefcase. Still reeling from Ober’s death, he tried not to think about the unnerving silence that now filled the house. Instead, he turned around and walked out the front door. A new layer of snow blanketed the neighborhood. He stepped outside, carefully maneuvering into the footprints left behind by Eric and Nathan. As he headed toward the Metro station, he periodically looked over his shoulder. After the events of the past few nights, Ben’s watchfulness had become instinctive. When he rounded the corner he saw a man in a navy winter coat and a brown fedora coming toward him. He was bothered that the brim of the hat blocked the man’s face. In the street, a gray car pulled up and stopped. Ben immediately recognized it as Eric’s.

“How’re you doing?” Eric asked, rolling down his window.

“Okay, I guess,” Ben said unconvincingly. He stepped into the street and leaned in the window. “I slept about five minutes last night.”

“Me too,” Eric said. “I can’t get him out of my head. Just the thought of him dangling there…”

“Please, let’s not talk about it,” Ben said, his gloved hands gripping the metal door frame.

“Did you tell Lisa?”

“I called her late last night. Before I finished my first sentence, she was crying. I never heard her like that. She offered to help with the eulogy.”

“That was nice of her.” Noticing the briefcase in Ben’s hand, Eric asked, “Where are you headed now?”

“The U.S. Attorney’s Office.”

“So this is it?”

“I hope so,” Ben said. “By this time tomorrow, I should be done with this nonsense.”

“I know I didn’t say this last night, but I think you’re doing the right thing.”

“Thanks,” Ben said as the stranger in the navy coat passed behind him. Ben turned around to watch him walk down the block. “Does that guy look suspicious to you?”

“Not really. Why?”

“He looked a little weird to me.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Eric said. “I’m sure he’s no one.”

“Yeah,” Ben said, pulling out of the window.

“Do you want a ride to the Metro?” Eric asked.

“I’d prefer a ride downtown.”

“No time. I have to do some quick edits at the house, then I need to get back to work. The Metro is as good as it gets.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ben said, heading back to the sidewalk. “I think I can handle the two blocks.”