Found Money - James Grippando [119]
“And you just accepted it?”
“It took time. A long time.”
“You must have had a reason. Did Dad show you something, say something?”
“Nothing. I didn’t want a fancy explanation in some signed and sealed affidavit. Too much time had passed to dig it all up again. I believed him for one reason only, Ryan. Because I wanted to believe.”
Ryan looked at her skeptically. “Mom,” he said in a voice that shook. “I’ve never said this before, but I have to say it: I don’t believe you.”
“What don’t you believe?”
“I don’t believe you just took it on faith that the rape never happened. Dad was convicted. You don’t just take a convicted man’s word for it that the crime never happened.”
“You do if that man is your husband, the father of your children.”
“No.” He started to pace, trying to contain his anger. “You saw the letter, didn’t you?”
“I never saw anything, Ryan.”
“That’s why you believed Dad. You saw the letter from Debby Parkens.”
“I told you, no.”
“You’re the reason he got the letter, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“Dad told you it never happened, and you didn’t believe him. So he had to go out and get the letter from Marilyn Gaslow’s best friend saying she made it all up.”
“I never saw the letter.”
“But you knew about it.”
She paused. “Your father told me he had proof it never happened. He said he was going to use it to get even with the bastard who had framed him. I never saw the proof he had. Just, all of a sudden, money started pouring in. Millions of dollars. That was enough for me to believe him.”
“Why didn’t you just look at the letter?”
“Because I believed him without seeing it.”
“You refused to look at it, didn’t you. You felt guilty for not believing him.”
“Ryan, you’re getting this all backwards.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Ryan, did it ever occur to you that I didn’t want to see the proof because I believed him just fine without it? That maybe my greatest fear was that seeing the so-called proof would just raise more questions in my mind?”
Ryan searched her eyes. Her agony seemed genuine. He wanted to console her, but he was suddenly thinking back to a pointed question Norm had raised: If his father was innocent, wouldn’t he have told Ryan? The answer might have been right before him all along, deep in his mother’s eyes. Maybe Dad couldn’t face the pain of yet another loved one who said “I believe you” but in the heart harbored doubts.
Then another possibility chilled him.
He got down on a knee and took her hand. “Mom, I’m going to ask you something very important. I want a completely honest answer. Do you think it’s possible that Dad made up the proof? Would he go so far as to forge a document to prove he was innocent?”
Her reply was soft, shaky. “I don’t know, Ryan. But this is the way I’ve always looked at it: Would a phony document make somebody pay five million dollars?”
It was the kind of question that needed no answer. Until he thought about it. “Depends on how good the fake is.” He rose and retreated into the house, letting the screen door slap shut behind him.
55
Liz slept late on Sunday. She’d had trouble falling asleep. Yesterday’s court appearance had given her the jitters. They’d lasted all day, keeping her up most of the night. Not even a bottle of Merlot had calmed her nerves. She’d never testified in court before. Jackson had told her she was terrific, but she didn’t have the stomach for it. Thankfully, Ryan’s lawyer hadn’t come after her. She knew that wouldn’t be the case, however, if the legal battle continued. Yesterday had been a victory for sure. But it had taught her something. She was far less interested in courtroom warfare than her lawyer was.
Still, she wasn’t about to back down. Last night, drifting in and out of near-sleep, her mind had wandered to places she hadn’t visited for some time—scenes from her childhood. She was at the Prowers County Fair, and she was nine years old. It was funny how so many of the games at the fair revolved around money, at least the way Liz remembered it. There used to be a flagpole smeared with grease, with a twenty-dollar