Free Hear No Evil by James Grippando

it like there when my mother left?”
    Abuela took a deep breath, let it out. Then she answered in Spanish. “It was exactly the way it was when I left, thirty-eight years later.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes. And it was totally different, too.”
    Jack’s gaze returned to the map. Bejucal was a fair distance from Guantánamo, but in Jack’s mind the two cities were forever linked. One made him think of himself, the young boy who had never known his mother. The other made him think of another boy, an adopted child who had never met his biological parents. It wasn’t the same thing, not by a long stretch, yet Jack found it slightly ironic that they shared the same option. They could try to learn about the person who had brought them into the world. Or they could leave it alone.
    For Jack, the choice was suddenly clearer than ever before. He looked at his grandmother and said, “I want to go.”
    Jack looked for some sign of approval in her expression, but he could only watch in confusion as Abuela turned and retreated to the kitchen.
    “Do you not want me to go?” he said.
    She didn’t answer. She was at the stove, tending to her cooking. Jack was fully aware that a journey back to Cuba was an emotional issue for many Cuban Americans, especially the elders, but he expected more of a mix of emotions from Abuela . Instead, there was just silence.
    The telephone rang, and Jack decided to let the answering machine get it. He was still trying to figure out Abuela ’s reaction, but Abuela was too clever for him. She answered it herself. Jack waved his arms at her, as if to say, Whoever it is, tell them I’m not here. Abuela ignored his silent pleas, obviously not wishing to discuss Jack’s trip to Cuba any further.
    “Yes, Jack is right here next to me,” she told the caller.
    Jack groaned and took the phone. “Hello?”
    “Is this Jack Swyteck?” It was a woman on the line, a voice he didn’t recognize.
    “Yes, that’s me. Who is this?”
    “My name is Sofia Suarez.” She paused, as if Jack should recognize the name. Then she added, “I represent Lindsey Hart.”
    Jack stepped out of the kitchen, away from the clatter of Abuela ’s cooking. “Yes, I saw you on television.”
    “Oh, I hate cameras, but with all that media, I felt like I had to say something. How do you think it played?”
    Jack didn’t see the point in trashing her conspiracy theory just yet. “Hard to say.”
    “It sucked. I know. I sounded like one of those ‘the world is out to get me’ nutcases.”
    “It wasn’t that bad.”
    “You’re just being kind. Listen, I’m calling because…well, for a couple of reasons. One, Lindsey asked me to call.”
    “She did?”
    “Yes. I heard all about the way she told you off the other day, and she is so sorry. She is under so much stress right now. I know that’s not an excuse, but it certainly explains a lot.”
    “What does she want?”
    “She’s afraid to ask you to come back and represent her. But believe me, in her heart, she is begging for your forgiveness. She needs you, and the only person who knows that more than Lindsey is me.”
    “What do you mean?”
    She chuckled mirthlessly and said, “I am so over my head here. I’m not a criminal lawyer. Lindsey hired me to handle her probate matter. The estate won’t distribute Oscar’s trust fund to her.”
    “I know. She told me about that. Finally.”
    “That’s right up my alley. But a murder trial, no way. So please, I’m hoping that you can put aside what happened the other day and do the right thing. Obviously there will be plenty of money to pay you when this probate matter gets straightened out.”
    “It was never about the money,” said Jack.
    “I know. Lindsey told me about…you know, about you and Brian.”
    Jack stepped farther away from the kitchen, careful not to let Abuela overhear anything. “What did she tell you?”
    “That you’re the father.”
    Jack paused. It was strange, but somehow the fact that