Parker 04 - The Fury

Free Parker 04 - The Fury by Jason Pinter

Book: Parker 04 - The Fury by Jason Pinter Read Free Book Online
Authors: Jason Pinter
words
    were whispers, and if there was ever a moment my
    heart might have bled for this man, it was now.
    "Mr. Parker," Amanda said. "James. All we can do
    right now is try to prove your innocence. We can't do that
    here. Henry's right. We'll find you a lawyer. We'll help
    you."
    He looked at both of us. I could sense gratitude trying
    to squeeze its way through his hardened veins. Instead,
    James Parker simply nodded and said, "I'll sign it."
    Amanda nodded, smiled. I couldn't show that
    emotion, that happiness. My father had been lying to me
    his whole life. Innocent or guilty, I had a hard time
    mustering pity for him. Many times over the years I'd
    hoped someone would lock him up for one of his
    crimes. As a young boy I'd wished I was strong enough
    to stand up to him. It didn't matter how far I went, how
    much I distanced myself. His sins followed me wher
    ever I went.
    Amanda got up and knocked on the door. A cop
    opened it, keeping his eyes on James Parker. As we left
    the room, saw Captain Whalin talking to two uniformed
    officers. When he saw us, Whalin came over, folding his
    arms across his chest.
    "Well?" he said.
    "He'll sign the waiver," I said. "Let's get this over
    with and get him back to New York."
    76
    Jason Pinter
    Whalin let out a pleased sigh. "I'm glad to hear that.
    Last thing we need is another body taking up a jail cell
    we can't spare. He still needs to appear before the judge
    tomorrow morning, but that's a formality. I'll call the
    NYPD. We'll have the waiver ready for him to sign at
    tomorrow's hearing, and they'll send officers to escort
    him back to New York. Then he's all yours. Thanks for
    talking some sense into him."
    Whalin walked away. I was glad to hear he wanted
    my father out of his hair, it would help the process move
    faster. I felt Amanda's hand loop through my arm. I put
    my palm on it. Her skin felt warm.
    As we headed toward the exit, I saw a woman sitting
    in the lobby. Her hair was blond, unnaturally so, as
    though she kept her hair colorist in good business. She
    had on a white cotton blouse, simple jewelry. She was
    teetering, swaying back and forth. Her arms were
    wrapped around her thin body, one hand covering her
    mouth. She looked like she was debating between
    falling over and vomiting. A pair of knitting needles
    poked out from her handbag. Memories came flooding
    back. The more he raged, the more she knit. Losing
    herself in stitches and patterns.
    "Mom?" I said, approaching nervously. I hadn't seen
    her in a long time. That pale, thin body turned around,
    hand still at her mouth. She cocked her head to one side,
    trying to determine whether she knew the man standing
    in front of her.
    "Is that...oh my God, is that you, Henry?"
    Suddenly she righted herself, ran over as fast as her
    sensible shoes could carry her. She flung her arms
    around me and I found myself nearly supporting her
    The Fury
    77
    entire body weight. She sobbed onto my shoulder as I
    bit my lip, did everything I could not to break down as
    well.
    "The police...they called me at Spano's house....
    What have they done to him?" she wailed. My mother
    pulled away, looked at me, hoping for some answer,
    some assurance that this might have been a terrible joke.
    "He's going to be okay, Mom," I said, trying to inject
    belief into that line when deep down there was none.
    "It's a big misunderstanding."
    "When are they going to let him out? I bought
    chicken breasts for dinner."
    "Mom," I said, "I don't think he'll be back in time
    for dinner."
    "Then when will he be back?"
    I looked at Amanda. Her eyes said, What do you
    want me to do? My mother looked so lost, confused. It
    wasn't that I didn't have the heart to tell her the truth
    about my father and Stephen Gaines, it was that for
    whatever reason, she'd lost the ability to truly under
    stand just how many wrongs this man had committed
    toward her. Over the years her defenses had rusted.
    Nothing allowed in, no anger, hostility or resentment
    out. I

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