John Grisham - The Associate

They talked about their old friends, Kyle’s new job, Baxter’s new life. After an hour, when the pizza was gone, they eventually got around to more pressing matters. “I guess Joey told you about Elaine,” Baxter said.

“Of course he did. It’s a bad idea, Baxter. I understand the law, and you don’t. You’re walking into quicksand and you could take us with you.”

“But you did nothing. Why are you worried?”

“Here’s a scenario,” Kyle said, leaning closer, eager to unveil a narrative he’d thought about for hours. “You go see Elaine, looking for some type of redemption, forgiveness, whatever you think you might find there. You apologize to someone you once hurt. Maybe she turns the other cheek and accepts your apology, and you two have a nice hug and say goodbye. That probably will not happen. What is much more likely to happen is that she chooses not to take the Christian approach, doesn’t give a rip about this cheek-turning business, and decides, with the advice of a pretty nasty lawyer, that what she really wants is justice. She wants vindication. She cried rape once and nobody listened. You, with the best intentions, will vindicate her with your awkward apology. She feels violated now, and she likes being the victim. Her lawyer starts to push, and things unravel quickly. There’s a prosecutor in Pittsburgh who, not surprisingly, likes to see his face on the front page. Like all prosecutors, he’s tired of the mundane, the gang shootings, the daily street crime. Suddenly he has a chance to go after four white boys from Duquesne, and one just happens to be a Tate. Not only a Great White Defendant, but four of them! Talk about headlines, press conferences, interviews. He’ll be the hero, and we’ll be the criminals. Of course we are entitled to a trial, but that’s a year away, a year of absolutely terrifying hell. You can’t do it, Baxter. You’ll hurt too many people.”

“What if I offer her money? A deal with only two parties, me and her?”

“It might work. I’m sure she and her lawyer would enjoy those discussions. But offering money implies guilt, an admission of some sort. I don’t know Elaine, and neither do you, but given Joey’s encounter, it’s safe to say she is not too stable. We can’t predict how she will react. It’s too risky.”

“I can’t live with myself until I talk to her, Kyle. I feel like I harmed her in some way.”

“Got that. It sounds great in the AA handbook, but it’s a different matter when other people are involved. You have to forget about this and put it behind you.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“There’s an element of selfishness here, Baxter. You want to do something that you think will make you feel better. Well, good for you. What about the rest of us? Your life will be more complete, our lives could be ruined. You’re dead wrong here. Leave this girl alone.”

“I can apologize to Elaine without admitting I committed a crime. I’ll just say that I was wrong and want to apologize.”

“Her lawyer is not stupid, and her lawyer will be sitting there with a tape recorder, probably a video camera.” Kyle took a sip of a diet soda and had a quick flashback to the first video. If Baxter saw it now, saw himself tag-teaming with Joey while Elaine was motionless, his guilt would crush him.

“I have to do something.”

“No, you don’t,” Kyle said, raising his voice for the first time. He was surprised at the stubbornness across the table. “You don’t have the right to ruin our lives.”

“I’m not ruining your life, Kyle. You did nothing wrong.”

Is she awake? Joey asks. The words rattle around the courtroom. The jurors scowl at the four defendants. Maybe they feel compassion for Kyle and Alan because there is no evidence that they violated the girl, and find them not guilty. Maybe they’re sick of the whole bunch and send them all to prison.

“I’ll take all the blame,” Baxter said.

“Why are you so determined to get yourself into more trouble than you can imagine? You’re toying with prison here, Baxter. Wake up, man!”

“I’ll take the blame,” he repeated, very much the martyr now. “You guys will walk.”

“You’re not listening to me, Baxter. This is far more complicated than you realize.”

A shrug. “Maybe so.”

“Listen to me, dammit!”

“I’m listening to you, Kyle, but I’m also listening to the Lord.”

“Well, I can’t compete—”

“And he’s leading me to Elaine. To forgiveness. And I believe she will listen, and she will forgive, and she will forget.” He was firm, and pious, and Kyle realized he had little else to throw at Baxter.

“Let it sit for a month,” Kyle said. “Don’t do anything hasty. Joey, Alan, and I should have a say in the matter.”

“Let’s go. I’m tired of sitting here.”

They roamed the Village for half an hour before Kyle, exhausted, finally said good night.

He was dead to the world when his cell phone rang three hours later. It was Baxter. “I talked to Elaine,” he announced proudly. “Tracked her down, called her, woke her up, and we talked for a few minutes.”

“You idiot,” Kyle blurted before he could stop himself.

“It went pretty well, actually.”

“What did you say?” Kyle was in the bathroom, splashing water on his face with one hand and holding his phone with the other.

“Told her I’ve never felt right about what happened. I didn’t admit to anything other than some misgivings.”

Thank God for that. “What did she say?”

“She thanked me for calling, then she cried and said no one has ever believed her. She still feels like she was raped. She’s always known it was Joey and me, with you and Alan somewhere close by watching the action.”

“That’s not true.”

“We’re gonna meet in a couple of days, have lunch, just the two of us, in Scranton.”

“Don’t do it, Baxter, please don’t do it. You will regret it forever.”

“I know what I’m doing, Kyle. I’ve prayed about this for hours, and I’m trusting God to get me through it. She promised not to tell her lawyer. You gotta have faith.”

“She works for her lawyer, part-time, did she tell you that, Baxter? No, she did not. You’ll walk into a trap and your life will be over.”

“My life is just beginning, old pal. Faith, Kyle, faith. Good night.” The phone snapped shut; the connection was dead.

BAXTER FLEW BACK to Pittsburgh the following morning, retrieved his car — a Porsche he planned to sell — from the long-term parking area, and checked into a motel by the airport. Credit card records revealed that he spent two nights in the motel and never checked out. His cell phone records showed numerous incoming calls and text messages from both Joey Bernardo and Kyle McAvoy, with no outgoing calls in return. He had two long conversations with Brother Manny in Reno, and some short ones with his parents and his brother in Pittsburgh. There were two calls to Elaine Keenan.

On the last day of his life, he left Pittsburgh before sunrise, headed for Scranton, a drive that would cover three hundred miles in about five hours. According to the credit card trail, he stopped for gas at a Shell station near the intersection of 1-79 and 1-80, about ninety minutes north of Pittsburgh. He then headed due east on 1-80 and traveled two hours until his journey came to an end. Near the small town of Snow Shoe, he stopped at a rest area and went to the men’s room. It was approximately 10:40 a.m. on a Friday in mid-November. Traffic was light, and there were only a few other vehicles at the rest area.

Mr. Dwight Nowoski, a retiree from Dayton who was traveling to Vermont with his wife, who was already in the ladies’ room, discovered Baxter not long after he had been shot. He was still alive but dying quickly from a gunshot to the head. Mr. Nowoski found him on the floor by the urinals, his jeans unzipped, the floor covered with blood and urine. The young man was gasping and whimpering and thrashing about like a deer hit by a car. There was no one else in the men’s room when Mr. Nowoski walked in and stumbled upon the horrible scene.