Free The Final Judgment by Richard North Patterson Page A

the head, Betty and Caroline facing each other, Nicole Masters—small and dark and beautiful—at the end opposite her husband. To Caroline now, more sharply than it had then, the image that struck her was of Betty sitting alone, amidst her indifferent stepmother and the half-sister upon whom her father doted. She imagined that Betty’s eyes, meeting her own, still held the jealousy and confusion of the girl who without knowing why—had lost both her mother and Ir primacy. But now the cost of her own motherhood was etched on Betty’s face. Larry broke the silence. Quietly, he said, “Thank you for coming, Caro.” Caroline turned, slowly, staring at him until his gaze flinched. I’m sorry, she imagined him saying. As if to cover this, he murmured, “We know this can’t be easy.” What I know, Caroline thought, is that neither of you wants me here. Her sister’s face was hard. She made no move to join in Larry’s grace note. Caroline put down her fork. “Perhaps it’s best if we try to talk about what happened.” Betty was silent. After a moment, Larry said, “I was gone, Caro. Camping in Vermont.” The slightest glance at Betty. “I’d gone to a trout stream, one a friend at the college put me onto.”
    “By yourself?.” A slow nod, and then he shook his head in wonderment. “I never thought how out of touch it left me .... “ Betty’s mouth had set, Caroline saw. Caroline picked up her glass of red wine and sipped it, studying Betty over the rim. “But you were here,” she said. Betty nodded almost imperceptibly. It was more than the
    strain of her presence, Caroline realized; both Larry and Betty appeared hollowed out by an event they still could not quite accept. When Larry reached to touch Betty’s hand, his wife seemed not to notice. “Who else was here?” Caroline asked. Betty stared at Larry’s hand as if at a foreign object. “Just Father,” she said. “Upstairs.”
    “When did Brett leave?”
    “About eight, I think.” A faint note of impatience. “I really don’t remember.”
    “And neither of you went out—you or Father?”
    “No.”
    “Did you know whine Brett was going?” A sharp look. “Of course not.”
    “‘Of course not’?” Caroline repeated. Larry’s hand tightened on the back of Betty’s. “There were strains,” he interjected. “Over Bret’s relationship to James. Betty bore the brant of it.”
    “Meaning ... ?”
    “We fought.” Betty’s voice was flat. “Over this boy’s involvement with drugs—I assume you know about that. Over this boy, period.” Betty leaned back, studying Caroline with new frankness. Did you come here, the look said, to judge me? With an edge, she said, “Being a parent is hard, Caroline.” Caroline saw Larry’s hand clasp Betty’s—a restraining gesture. In her most arid tone, Caroline answered, “So I understand.” A light flush crept across Betty’s face. More evenly, she said, “James Case was everything Brett didn’t need—self-centered and irresponsible, seeing her only as a convenience. There was failure written all over him. Failure and heartbreak. I didn’t want that for her, and I couldn’t bear to watch it.” Betty slid her hand, slowly and deliberately, from beneath her husband’s. “Brett,” she resumed with suppressed fervor, “expects the best in people, far more than she should. Instead of a vain young man who aspired to a marginal profession, she saw a damaged boy who could be-
    come better if she was only patient. He wanted her to give up everything—” Betty stopped abruptly, as if she had startled herself. Larry’s anxious gaze moved from Betty to Caroline. But Caroline was silent, her face without expression. Betty faced her directly, retrieving a look of pride. “What I told her about James,” Betty said, “is that she had better hope he never became a success. Because then he would leave her. After he changed her life.” Caroline’s throat felt tight. Quietly, she asked, “And what was Brett’s answer?” Betty seemed to study her. “That she was old enough to