A muscle worked in Glitsky's in his jaw. "I said first?"
"I believe so. Yes, sir."
Another minute. "Sorry," he said, "it's gone."
When Hal and Linda North came out of their son's guarded room at the hospital, Wu and Hardy were there in the hall to meet them. After Wu introduced Hardy, Linda smiled and said, "Dismas? Wasn't that the name of the good thief on Calvary?"
Hardy forced a smile. He didn't feel remotely friendly. "That was him," he said. "Not too many people know that. He's also the patron saint of murderers."
Linda tightened, drew herself up. "Andrew isn't a murderer."
"No, ma'am, he isn't."
Hal spoke up. "After all we've been through on that score, it's good to hear somebody say that. So you're telling me we've got a chance?"
"Don't get me wrong. We've got some tough days ahead, but there's some reason for guarded hope. There have been some developments in your absence. Besides, of course, this suicide attempt." He fixed them both with flat eyes.
Linda read his look. "You probably think we're horrible to have gone away, don't you?"
"It doesn't matter what I think," Hardy said. "Maybe I wondered a little."
"About what?" Hal stepped protectively in front of his wife. "About what?" he repeated. "Us going south?"
Hardy said nothing.
"I asked Andrew and he said he was fine. He knew that we'd had the reservations for months and he was adamant we should just go. It was only for three days. He said he'd be fine. He was getting used to Youth Guidance. We didn't know he'd do anything like this. How could we have known?"
"Mrs. North," Hardy said, "Mr. North. I'm not accusing you of anything. It's none of my business how you run your lives. For Andrew's sake, though, it might be helpful if we knew where we could find you if we need to contact you while this is going on, but…"
"He knew where we were." Hal was growing hot. He turned to Amy. "I was sure he'd have told you."
"No, sir. He didn't."
"He can talk to us anytime," Linda put in. "Both of our kids can. Hal and I, we're always there for them if they need us."
"There you go." Hal took an aggressive stance between them, but spoke to Wu. "You could have called Alicia at home. You have that number. She could have reached us. Easily."
"How did you find out?" Hardy asked. "About this?"
"I called the YGC to talk to Andrew as soon as we got home this morning. They told me. Then I called Hal and we came straight here."
But Hal continued at Wu. "I still don't understand why you didn't think to call the house. Alicia could have called and gotten us back here hours ago."
Wu matched his gaze, tightened her lip, turned to Hardy, who came to her defense. "Your daughter wasn't home, sir."
"What? Of course she was. We both talked to her."
"We did," Linda said. "She was home. Absolutely. She called us."
"On her cellphone?" Hardy asked.
"Yes, I think so." Linda looked from Hardy to Wu, then back to Hardy. "You're saying she could have called from anywhere."
"I'm telling you," Hardy said, "that when they found Andrew in his cell this morning, they called your home first, then sent a squad car by- this is at four a.m., remember- and nobody was there. The first person they could reach with any connection to Andrew was Amy, at her apartment."
"I don't believe that," Hal said.
"You check it out," Hardy replied. "Won't take you five minutes."
"Now you're calling my daughter a liar." Hal directed his ire at Hardy. "Hey, you know what? We don't need to take any more of this crap from you or anybody else." He turned to Linda, grabbed her by the elbow. "Let's go. That's the end of this."
But she held back. "I want to know the truth about Alicia."
"You just heard it," Hardy said.
"It doesn't matter," Hal snapped. "It's another ploy to make us feel guilty and ultimately, I'm sure, to pay him more."
"Pay me more? Here's a flash for you, pal, if you haven't already heard. I'm doing this for free." Hardy was by now so mad at the man's blindness and arrogance that he was tempted to throw a punch. Blood pounded in his ears. He felt he had to raise his voice to get above it. "And firing Amy? There's a brilliant idea! Never mind how Andrew is going to feel if the one person who's been standing by him since his arrest deserts him, too. You think that's going to help his state of mind? His self-esteem? Of course, worrying about what Andrew's feeling isn't something you do much, is it?"
Linda stepped in front of her husband. "How can you say that? I love my boy. I do."
Hardy forced himself to some semblance of calm. "You know, Mrs. North, I'm sure you do. But doesn't last night tell you that maybe he's not getting the message? That maybe he feels alone and deserted in the world?"
"That's not because of us," Hal said. "Our kids have had everything they need their whole lives, every opportunity." He looked to his wife, took her hand, came at Hardy. "You keep wanting to bring this back to me and Linda. We are not at fault here. This is all because of Andrew- the lies he told, how he acted, who he is. He's always been such a difficult kid. This is not me and Linda. We have been damn good parents."
This, Hardy realized, would never go anywhere productive. "Look," he said, "I've got two kids myself. Teenagers. I know what you're talking about. My wife and I get a chance for time alone, we take it, too. But I might suggest- and this is true with me and my wife and maybe every other set of parents on the planet- that maybe you're not as in touch with your son's feelings as you think you are. He did, after all, just try to take his own life."
After a short and tense moment, Linda broke the silence. "I'm going back in to him," she said, "for when he comes out of it. Come on, Hal. Are you coming?"
With a surly look back at both Wu and Hardy, and no comment, Hal took her hand, and together they turned back toward Andrew's room.
27
… And people wonder where they go wrong raising children," Frannie said. She was already chafing at the bedrest edict, and against her doctor's orders had been planning on coming downstairs to dinner. But Hardy had finessed her by bringing up the fettucine alfredo and serving her in the bedroom. Now he sat next to the bed, eating his own pasta from a television table.
"I don't know if Hal and Linda wonder about that so much," Hardy said. "Ask them and they'll tell you. They're not doing anything wrong. They're great parents. They've worked hard and now just want to have some fun."
"You can't argue with the basic concept."
"Okay, but getting it even a little bit right takes some energy. You check up on them from time to time, get in their faces when they need it; once in a while, God forbid, you say no. You make sure they know they're loved all the time, even when you hate 'em."
"Especially when you hate them."
"That, too. See, it's not that complex."
"Although I've heard you say more than once that raising the little darlings is the hardest thing in the world."
"That's because I only speak in revealed truth." Hardy went back to his food.
Frannie fell pensive. Time passed. Then: "Maybe they just got tired. The Norths."
Hardy put his fork down. "Who doesn't? But you're still in their lives a little. Not that some percentage of them wouldn't make it if you left, even a large percentage. But somebody like Andrew who's already got obvious issues, it might occur to you he's at risk, wouldn't you think?" He shook his head, forked some pasta, chewed thoughtfully. "One of the kids I talked to at Sutro today was this girl, Jeri, pierced everywhere you could stick a needle, tattoos- the look, you know? Not my first choice for fashion consultant, but a really good kid. Solid, grounded, helpful. She was in the play with Andrew."