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