Джозеф Файндер - Judgment

Those were the words Matías had used.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Giannopoulos wouldn’t meet her eyes. He got up and closed his office door. Then he returned to his desk, his face now chalk-white. He folded his hands, interlacing the fingers. He cleared his throat nervously. “Just... just see it through. It’s better this way.”

“Sam, what’s wrong — what happened to you?”

He shook his head slowly. His phone rang, and he lunged for it, seemingly grateful for the interruption. “Will you please excuse me, Judge?”

In the elevator down to the ninth floor, she could feel her heart thudding in her ears. She was still numb from her encounter with Sam Giannopoulos. Her blood tingled.

The man had spoken to her in a way he never had before. He was a member of the court administration; he had no right to tell her what to do. He wasn’t her boss. But now he seemed to be warning her: Just see it through. It’s better this way.

She felt queasy, her stomach tight.

Sam was frightened himself; that was clear. They’d gotten to him. They’d threatened him somehow.

Whoever they were.

Shakily, she returned to her lobby, and keyed open the door. Kaitlyn, her law clerk, had picked up lunch from the Middle Eastern place on Cambridge Street. Juliana was touched: she hadn’t asked for it. Kaitlyn was thoughtful that way.

She glanced at her watch. Twenty minutes till the afternoon session started. She wasn’t hungry but knew she had to eat. She unwrapped the salad and forked some chicken into her mouth, chewing pensively. She barely tasted the food.

She gave up trying to concentrate on the document that was on her monitor, her mind flitting from the videotape she’d seen at the Bostonia Club to Sam Giannopoulos’s blanched face.

Her life was on the verge of being ruined. One wrong move, one mistake, and it was over. She was petrified and couldn’t think clearly.

Suddenly her cell phone rang. Not many people had that number. Duncan, Jake, a few other people. The caller ID read PRIVATE CALLER. Apprehensively, she picked it up.

“Listen to the man,” the caller said.

“Who is—”

“You are not to recuse yourself. That would be a serious mistake. Do it, and the video goes public, and thousands, maybe millions will watch it. Your life as you know it will be over.”

She heard the accent and was pretty sure it was Matías.

“Who is this?” she said, but the line had gone dead.

A knock on the door. “Judge?”

She looked up. Kaitlyn.

“You okay?”

Juliana didn’t reply.

“You’re late for oral arguments,” Kaitlyn said. “Do you need me to postpone?”

When she arrived home that evening, thumbing her temples, trying to massage away the headache, Duncan was in the kitchen, making a spaghetti sauce, which was bubbling away in a big pot. The house smelled great: sautéed onion and garlic and olive oil and tomato. He was washing a frying pan.

“Hey, hon,” he called. “I’m making Mom’s Bolognese.”

“Smells great,” she managed. Actually, it did smell wonderful.

“I’ll do that,” she said, reaching for the skillet. “You cooked.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve got it. So how was your day?”

Juliana looked away, pretended she hadn’t heard the question. She could hardly level with him, couldn’t exactly tell him about the meeting with Sam Giannopoulos, the threatening phone call she’d gotten on her cell. “Where’s Jakie?” she asked.

“Where else?” He shrugged. “His room. You okay? You look — I don’t know, tired.”

“Just a headache.”

“Take any Advil or something?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t have any.”

He put the pan in the drying rack, then opened a cabinet and pulled out a little bottle of pain pills. He opened it and handed it to her.

She took it gratefully, smiled thanks.

See it through .

She could see Sam Giannopoulos’s chalk-white face, tight with fear. I think it would be better if you made no changes to your schedule . Then that unsettling call from Matías. Your life as you know it will be over.

“Are you okay enough to talk to him tonight, or do you want to put it off till tomorrow?”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “No, let’s do it tonight.” She wanted to take control of something in her life, at least. But she was finding it hard to concentrate, to think about anything other than the video and its awful consequences. She felt it like a physical weight, like she was wearing a backpack full of bricks. It slowed her down and hollowed her out.

In a strange way, she was actually looking forward to talking with Jake, even about something as thorny as this. This was her family life, her home life. It was real life. Not that nightmarish other life.

“So shall we go up?”

“Sure. But — wait, though. First let’s make sure we’re on the same page, okay?” she said.

He crossed his arms. “Honey, I’m not sure we are.”

“Let’s set aside the law for a moment. Illegal or not, if smoking pot is causing him problems, I think we both agree we have to intervene.”

“Sure. But he said it’s not. He does it to calm himself down. Takes the edge off.”

She groaned.

“Careful about the Judge Judy thing,” he said.

“I know.” She laughed hollowly. It was an old gibe, sort of an inside joke between them, which normally she didn’t really mind. When she got too judgy , when she became like the famous TV judge who could be so outrageous and provocative and comically stern — all he had to do was say Judge Judy. Right away she’d get it, she’d back off some, modulate her tone.

The truth was, Judge Judy was annoying and completely unrealistic. She hated that schtick, all those courtroom zingers, the way she abused witnesses. “You’re an idiot!” Though occasionally Juliana wished she could mouth off that way.

She took his hand. “I promise I’ll do my best.”

“All I ask.”

They trudged up the stairs, side by side, and stood outside Jake’s bedroom. All the way out here she could hear the percussive notes from his headphones. Duncan thudded his fist on the door. No answer. He thumped again, yelled, “Jake?” and then opened the door.

Jacob whirled around in his chair, took off his bulky headphones. He looked at his father and then his mother. A wary look appeared in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk about the vaping,” Juliana said as they both entered.

“You told her,” Jake said angrily. “Thanks a lot, Dad.”

“I told you I would,” said Duncan.

“We’re concerned,” Juliana said. She sat on the edge of his bed, and then Duncan sat next to her. She crossed her legs. “Who are you getting high with?”

Jake looked around helplessly, glanced at his father, who nodded. Then he said: “Tyler and Ryan, mostly. Sometimes other guys.”

Duncan said, “Do you get high by yourself?”

Jake hesitated. He had his father’s dark Italian looks, the brown eyes and brown hair, but with a light sprinkling of acne across his nose and cheeks. His face began to redden. “Hardly ever. Why?”

“ Hardly ever?” Juliana said.

“You did it once as an experiment, right?” said Duncan.

“Just that one time,” said Jake.

“Dunc, let Jake tell me. How do you get your hands on it?”

“I mean... There’s a kid at school. I think his parents buy it for him. It’s totally legal, by the way. This is so not a big deal, Mom. What’s with all the drama?”

She ignored his attempt to make this about her. “When did you first start using it?” she asked.