For Will
Part OneMadison
1
November
Cambridge, Massachusetts
She loved the way her professor moved. The swish of auburn hair. The grace of her gestures. The nervous energy as she paced behind the podium. Madison had admired Kathryn Conroy since she’d heard her speak at a high school career day years before. A thousand times, she’d imagined herself following in Conroy’s footsteps. Having a career like hers. Starting out as a crusading prosecutor, taking on the mob, the drug cartels. Holding press conferences, appearing on TV, looking amazing doing it. Then getting appointed to the bench, presiding over high-profile cases, writing opinions that were read across the land. Becoming so renowned that she’d be invited back to teach, with students hanging spellbound on her every word the way she did with Conroy now. Such a future was within the realm of possibility for Madison. She was one of the stars of her year. Top grades. Law review. A summer clerkship at one of the most prestigious law firms in Boston. On top of that, the special sparkle that came from her looks, her way with words, her confidence in the face of a challenge. Call it charisma, whatever—she had it. Coming out of Harvard Law, her opportunities were limitless.
Correction. Should be limitless. But there was a crack in the perfect facade, which came from her past. The fault lines were threatening everything she’d built. She worried that …
“Miss Rivera.”
Shit. She’d tuned out for a split second, and now Conroy was staring at her from the lectern with a finger on the seating chart. She had no idea what the question was. There was nothing for it but to admit that and brazen it out.
“I apologize, Professor, but could you repeat the question?” she said, sitting up straight, her voice ringing out across the staggered rows of the classroom.
People turned to take notice when Madison spoke, just as they did with Conroy. If she flubbed now, it would be with all eyes on her, including those of the professor she idolized. Judge Conroy crooked a delicate eyebrow, making a note before replying. That was class participation points lost, but she was positive she could recoup them once she knew the question.
“How did the Gates case change the search warrant process?”
Madison could answer that. She could answer anything, really. It wasn’t just talent, but hard, slogging work. She did the reading every night, briefed the cases, wrote out answers to every possible question. She met the judge’s eyes like they were equals and launched into a detailed reply. From there, the class devolved into a Madison-and-Conroy show. They parried hypotheticals back and forth, refined the principle, even made a couple of nerdy law jokes. By the time the judge glanced at her watch and called time, she’d redeemed herself in Conroy’s eyes and cemented her position as the whiz kid who never missed. Classmates on either side high-fived her as they got up to leave.
Now the race was on for face time with Conroy. Madison was in the middle of a row, locked in as her classmates took their time shutting their laptops, putting on coats, gathering their things. Frustrating. She wanted to capitalize on her ace performance by doing a little networking. Thanking Conroy for the great class, asking a few follow-ups. That was just smart. Maybe she could parlay today’s exchange in class to an invitation to office hours, even coffee. She got on the end of the line, rehearsing in her mind what she’d say, feeling more nervous than she should. Since the beginning of the semester, she’d been meaning to bring up the fact that they’d attended the same high school, that she’d heard Conroy speak years before, that it had influenced her path. She just couldn’t figure out how to drop that into a conversation around the lectern without seeming gushy. It was so personal.
The minutes ticked by as the students ahead of her monopolized the judge’s attention, just as she’d monopolized it in class. This was Harvard Law, and fair was fair. You had to fight for every inch of turf. The prof for the next class showed up and everybody scattered. Judge Conroy was pulling on her plaid trench coat, about to depart. Then she looked at Madison and smiled.
“Miss Rivera. Wait a minute. I hope I didn’t embarrass you, cold-calling you before.”
“Not at all. You have to keep us on our toes, right?”
“Exactly. And you recovered admirably. I was impressed.”
Madison blushed. “Thank you.”
The judge hesitated, then seemed to decide something.
“I don’t know if this would fit your schedule, but I just had an internship position open up in my chambers unexpectedly. Normally, you have to apply a year in advance, but I need someone right away. I’d like you to apply.”
“For an internship—with you?”
“Yes. Are you interested?”
Of course she was. An internship with Conroy would be a dream come true, not to mention a gold star on her résumé. And Madison adored gold stars. The timing was tricky, though. What were the chances that, if she went through an application process right now, Conroy would find out about her younger brother’s legal troubles? That would be embarrassing. And definitely something she’d prefer Conroy not know about her.
The pause as she considered the question lasted longer than she’d intended.
“Well,” Conroy prompted. “Yes or no?”
The opportunity was just too good to pass up.
“I’m flattered to be asked, Judge Conroy. I would love to apply.”
“Good. Get in touch with my chambers, and they’ll give you the specifics. I look forward to interviewing you.”
As Conroy walked out the door, Madison’s phone buzzed in her pocket, and her smile faded. There were several missed calls from her mother. And one text. More bad news, it read.
2
She was gathering her things when Ty Evans came up to her. They’d been the power couple of their year until she broke things off last spring. He was a former Stanford tight end, handsome and charismatic, reigning moot court champ, on the short list for law review president. A job she wanted for herself and planned to get. Trouble was, everything Ty did, Madison did, too, just as well if not better. And that didn’t make for a smooth relationship. Harvard Law was the sort of place where people would knock down their grandmother to get ahead. Was it any wonder that competition broke them up?
She shoved the phone in her coat pocket so he wouldn’t see her mother’s text, forcing a smile.
“Sucking up to the prof, I see,” he teased.
“Jealous much, Ty?”
“What do I have to be jealous of? She loves me best.”
“Right. Who doesn’t?”
He laughed. “You know it. What were you two talking about just now?”
“A follow-up about the Gates case.”
She didn’t want news getting out about the internship, especially not to Ty. He’d apply, and out of the entire second-year class, he was her biggest competition.
“Huh. It looked like more than that.”
Madison shrugged, dropping the subject. Ty blocked for her as they fought the tide of remaining students flooding through the doors for the next class. Crossing the atrium, he started talking about the latest political battle on law review, but she could barely pay attention. Her hand was sweaty in her pocket, clutching her phone. She had to get rid of him and call Mom, to find out the latest in the saga of her troubled younger brother, Danny. A week earlier, Danny got swept up in a narcotics dragnet, arrested along with a dozen hard-core drug dealers from the old neighborhood, even though, as far as Madison knew, he wasn’t involved in anything remotely like that. Danny was now in federal custody awaiting trial. Nobody at school knew about it, not even Ty. Especially not Ty. He was a decent enough human being beneath his bravado that, if he found out she had family problems, he’d start asking questions that she didn’t want to answer. And probably end up getting the truth out of her, which she couldn’t afford. Appearances mattered too much here. You kept your game face on at all times. She didn’t want people finding out about Danny until she had a better handle on things.
“Pit stop,” she said, nodding toward the restrooms.
“I can wait. You want to grab a coffee or something?”
“Can’t. I have stuff to do.”
“All right. But hey, come out tomorrow? It’s my birthday. I’d love to see you.”
“Right. Chloe told me. I’ll be there.”
“She told you. Good. I’m glad,” he said.
From his tone, she could tell that inviting her had been a bone of contention. Chloe was Ty’s new girlfriend, and she kept a close eye on his interactions with Madison.
Ty left. Madison looked for a quiet place to make her call. But the atrium was buzzing with students coming and going. She caught snippets of conversation. Grades. Exams. Recruiting. Weekend plans. Mere days ago, her life had been that simple, that carefree. But the past, her family, her background always reared their ugly heads. They just wouldn’t let her go.
She made her way outside to the law quad. New England fall was winding down. There were still patches of vivid color in the trees, but you could smell winter in the sharp, cold wind. The forecast was for heavy rain later, which would suit her mood. She found a sheltered spot in the lee of the building and placed the call with shaking fingers. Her mother picked up on the first ring.
“Maddy, thank God. Where were you?”
“In class. What’s wrong?”
“Danny pled guilty.”
“How can that be? He swore to you he was innocent.”
“He still says that, and I believe him. I know it in my heart.”
“Why plead guilty if you’re not?”
“They made him.”
“Who made him?”
“I don’t know. He won’t say. It was, like, a thirty-second phone call from the jail, then he said he had to go and hung up. Maddy, he sounded scared.”
“Honestly, that doesn’t make sense. I studied criminal law, Mom. There are supposed to be negotiations for a plea. He was just arrested, what, a week ago? It’s too fast.”
“I thought so too.”
“What does his lawyer say?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I don’t trust that guy. He’s the one who forced Danny to take the plea.”
“Forced him how?”
“What do you think? He threatened him.”
“That sounds like an excuse. Did Danny say that or is he—”
“Is he what? Making it up? You don’t believe your brother?”
“Don’t make this about me and him, okay? I’m just trying to understand the facts.”
“The facts are, this lawyer shows up in court. We didn’t hire him. And then he starts telling Danny what to do.”
“You not hiring him is not unusual. The court appoints lawyers for defendants who can’t afford them.”
“That’s not what happened. Something’s off, I’m telling you. He’s this old guy with dandruff who looks like he hits the bottle.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s not qualified.”
“Why are you taking the lawyer’s side? If you’d been in court, you’d understand what I’m talking about.”
“I already apologized for not being there. I told you, by the time I got your call that Danny had been arrested—”
“Right. I know how busy you are.”
The edge in her tone got Madison’s back up.
“I wasn’t too busy to come to my brother’s arraignment. My phone was off. If I knew, I would have dropped everything and—”
“Maddy, I don’t want to fight.”
“Then say you understand that I had my phone off. I can’t keep it on all the time on the off chance Danny gets arrested for drugs.”
Most people get to assume that won’t happen to their brother, she thought, but held her tongue. Danny had a long and checkered history for someone who was only twenty-one years old. Her mother didn’t understand how detrimental this was to Madison’s own plans, her future. How draining it was worrying about him all the time. But you couldn’t choose your family, and she loved him no matter what. He was her brother, after all.
“I don’t blame you, Maddy. Really.”
“I hope not. But thank you for saying that.”
“It’s a question of what we do now. We’re a family. Families stick together in tough times.”
Too bad that had not always been the case in her family. Their past was fraught, and never far enough from their present. Madison sighed, wishing things could be different. But they weren’t. She needed to suck it up and deal with reality.
“Tell me how I can help, Mom. You want me to call the lawyer and find out what happened?”
“No, I told you. That lawyer’s trouble. We need to go see your brother.”
“You mean visit him in prison?”
“Yes. Something’s wrong. I need to look him in the eye and get the truth.”
Would visiting get her name on a list? Her relationship to an indicted drug dealer could come out just as she applied for an internship with a federal judge. But what choice did she have? Danny was her brother, and he needed her right now, inconvenient as that was.
“Fine, I’ll go with you. I can do it Saturday.”
“No. Tomorrow morning, first thing.”
The prison was far away. It would be a long drive there, a long wait to get in, a long drive back. She’d miss her morning class, with finals coming up. Argh, what else was new? Danny’s problems had been screwing up her life since she was a kid.
“Please,” Mom said. “He’s in serious trouble this time, and I don’t know how to help him. I work in a nursing home. You’re a student at Harvard Law. I need your help.”
“Of course, Mom. Just tell me what time. I’ll be waiting outside my dorm.”
3
It was still dark out with freezing rain when the old Toyota pulled up in front of the dorm the next morning. Madison got in and pecked Mom on the cheek. She’d been up late reading for class, working on a moot court brief, and—most exciting—applying to the judicial internship in Conroy’s chambers. Her eyes were tired and scratchy, but her mother looked more exhausted than she felt. And older than she had just weeks ago, with new threads of silver in her hair and deep purple shadows under her eyes.
Danny’s fault, as usual.
“I got you a coffee,” Mom said.
There was a Dunkin’ sitting in the cup holder.
“Thanks.”
Madison took a sip and put it back down. Light and cloyingly sweet, the way she liked it when she was a kid. Her dad died when she was thirteen and Danny ten. Mom was frozen in that moment and still treated them like she did back then. Which meant indulging and enabling Danny. And expecting Madison to drop everything to take care of her little brother.
“Can you find this place in Google? The goddamn thing won’t talk.”
The facility where Danny was being held was all the way in Rhode Island, in some crappy little town just over the Mass. border. Madison took her mother’s phone and typed the name into Google Maps.
“Take Mem Drive, get on 90, and then I’ll tell you from there. It’s saying an hour and twenty-six minutes with the traffic.”
“Jeez, we’ll be the last ones in line,” Mom said.
The drive was harrowing on the slick roads in her mother’s little car, with its broken heater and smell of gasoline. The parking lot near the prison was full by the time they arrived. Her mother circled, looking for a spot, face tight with anxiety. They left their handbags in the trunk and locked it. You weren’t allowed to bring anything into the facility except your ID and a single car key—not your phone, not an extra Tampax, not even a stick of chewing gum. The hulking concrete prison loomed over the street, surrounded by a tall metal fence topped with coils of deadly looking barbed wire. As her gaze traveled up the grim facade, Madison felt sick. No matter how mad she was at Danny, he was still her goofball kid brother, a string bean with big ears and an infectious laugh. Young and foolish, but never mean; certainly not evil. And not beyond redemption. No matter what he’d done—and if she was honest with herself, there was some chance the charges were true—she couldn’t stand to think of him locked up in this god-awful place.
The line of visitors stretched down the block, around the corner, huddled in winter coats, some of them holding newspapers over their heads because you couldn’t bring in an umbrella. It took them forty-five minutes to make it to the entrance, by which point Madison’s boots were saturated, and her puffer jacket and jeans soaked. The lobby looked like something out of a gulag. Harsh lighting, cinder block walls, scuffed linoleum floors streaked with muddy water. The smell of wet clothing was everywhere. The buckles on Madison’s boots set off the metal detector, and a female CO patted her down roughly before waving her on to the next CO, who was checking IDs.
“Yolanda and Madison Rivera. Here to see Daniel Rivera. My son,” Mom said, handing over their driver’s licenses.
She recited Danny’s inmate number from memory. The corrections officer checked the number in the computer, and waved them through to the visiting room. The cavernous space was filled with screaming babies and sobbing girlfriends. Guards stationed at intervals along the wall scanned the crowd, alert for any physical contact or other violation of the rules. Madison and her mother sat down at a table to wait. Every few minutes, an air horn would blow, followed by the sound of a lock disengaging with a heavy clank of metal. An inmate would then shuffle in, chains rattling, clutching a manila folder in his manacled hands, escorted by a CO.
About ten minutes later, that inmate was Danny, and she had to stifle a cry of dismay. He walked toward them stiffly, like he was in pain. The guard uncuffed him, and her mother threw her arms around him. He towered over her, coltish and lanky, just a kid embarrassed by his mother’s emotional embrace. The other inmates could see from the way Yolanda’s shoulders shook that she was sobbing.
“That’s enough, ma’am,” the corrections officer said. “You need to limit physical contact, or the visit will be terminated.”
Mom stepped away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, too overcome to speak. Madison had a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes. She blinked them back as the three of them sat down, waiting until the guard moved away to voice her concern.
“You’re walking funny,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Are you hurt?”
Danny shook his head, tears in his eyes, too. They were all struggling to get their emotions in check enough to talk. It occurred to her that this was the worst thing that had happened to her family other than her father’s death.
“Don’t worry,” Danny said. “I’m just happy to see you. I was surprised when they called me for a visit. Are you sure it’s okay for you, Mom? Maybe it’s too much.”
Yolanda wiped her eyes and sat up straighter, shaking her head.
“I’ll be okay, son. We came to ask you why you pleaded guilty when you’re innocent. We don’t understand. Tell us what’s going on.”
His face clouded over. “Ah, Ma, look, if that’s why you’re here—”
“I’m here because I love you,” she said, her voice cracking. “And I need to understand what’s happening.”
The tears in Danny’s eyes spilled over. As he wiped them with a shaking hand, Madison had a sudden vision of him crying in her arms as a small child. Just like then, she wanted to make things better for him. But it wasn’t always within her power to do.
“I don’t want you guys mixed up in this,” he said.
“We are mixed up in it, whether you like it or not,” Mom said.
“Like Mom said, we want to understand,” Madison said. “Why plead guilty if you’re innocent? At least there should’ve been negotiations. They should offer you a plea to a lesser charge. Isn’t that how it usually works?”
Danny looked around nervously, making a shushing gesture with his hand. “I can’t talk about this. Not here.”
“Why not?” their mother said under her breath. “Did somebody hurt you? Threaten you?”
“Mom, leave it alone. It’s too late. What’s done is done.”
“That’s not true,” Madison said. “If something illegal happened, you can challenge your guilty plea.”
“Listen to your sister. She’s a law student, she knows.”
Madison nodded. “I could give better advice if I knew the specifics. Do you have a copy of the plea agreement?”
“The lawyer wouldn’t give me one.”
She narrowed her eyes skeptically. “He’s supposed to give you copies of everything.”
“Jesus, Maddy, they tell you something in school, and you just swallow it. You don’t have a clue what goes on in the real world.”
This was why she’d missed a whole day of classes—so Danny could tell her she didn’t know what she was talking about? She tried not to let get him to her, but Mom was crying again. All the gray in her hair was from him.
“This isn’t about me,” she said. “Look what you’re doing to Mom. You claim you’re innocent. You pled guilty because you were forced, so now she’s worried that somebody’s hurting you. Just tell the truth. We’ll still love you.”
“You want me to say I sold drugs? Because that’s what you think, right? That I’m lying?” He leaned toward her, eyes flashing, lowering his voice. “I am innocent. I haven’t touched drugs in two years, and that’s to use. I never, ever, ever sold them. Not once in my entire pathetic, fucking life. Adrian, though. That’s a different story.”
Adrian was Danny’s best friend from high school, and he was bad news.
“I should’ve known it was him,” Yolanda said, shaking her head and cursing in Spanish under her breath.
“Don’t get down on Adrian. He was trying to help me out. You know how I want to open my own garage, right?”
After a number of false starts, Danny had found something he was passionate about and good at. He completed the automotive program at a local community college and got what seemed like a great job at a local garage. But he didn’t get along with the boss and had started talking about opening his own shop. The problem was, he didn’t have the cash.
“I found the perfect location. It’s all set up—tools, jacks, lifts, everything. That type of opportunity won’t come around again. Between the lease of the property and buying the equipment outright, I needed twenty-five grand.”
“Why didn’t you come to your family for help, son?” Yolanda said.
“With you paying so much rent now, Mom? Madison up to her ears in debt for law school, and Aunt Nilda about to retire? I’m not gonna burden any of you. Adrian’s my oldest friend. I knew he was making bank, so I asked him. He said he’s overextended and can’t personally float me. But his boss, this guy Ricky Peña, was looking for legitimate investment opportunities.”
“This Ricky. He’s a drug dealer?” Mom said.
“Yeah, but I would have nothing to do with that. He’s looking to go legit and invest in legal businesses.”
“Invest drug money,” Madison said.
“Money is money. And beggars can’t be choosers. You think a bank is gonna give me a loan, with no collateral?”
“They might. Did you try?”
“There’s no point. I’m a nobody. I don’t have a Harvard degree like you. To me, this was my big chance, so I went to meet Ricky at this bar he owns. That was my first mistake. Ricky sells out of that place. Right when we started talking, he took a phone call, then he stood up. I heard him tell the bartender, ‘It’s a go.’ Then he says he’s going to the john and disappears. The bartender comes out from behind the bar, drops a duffel bag on the table in front of me, and he disappears. I’m thinking maybe this is the cash up front for the investment, so I pick up the bag. I’m about to open it and look inside when the DEA busts in. They arrest everyone in sight, including me. This bag is in my hands. It turns out to have heroin in it, and now it has my fingerprints, too.”
“But they weren’t your drugs,” Yolanda said. “So that’s not your fault. You need to tell somebody what’s going on. Someone who can do something about it.”
Danny wrung his hands, his face gray.
“There’s no one to tell. The cops are on the take. Ricky pays protection, and that phone call he got—it was a tip-off. I’m ninety-nine percent sure that it came from the detective running the case. What am I gonna do, go to that detective and say I’m innocent? He’ll kill me—like, literally kill me.”
“You have to tell your lawyer,” Madison said.
“My lawyer is in on it, too. Him and the dirty cop are working together. These guys are as bad as Ricky. Worse.”
“They can’t make you plead guilty if you’re innocent,” Madison said.
Danny looked at her like she had two heads.
“Did you hear anything I just said? They can. They did. The night before I went to court, some guys cornered me in the bathroom and beat the crap out of me. They said to keep my mouth shut ‘tomorrow.’ I’m like, What’s tomorrow? And they said, You’ll see. Do what you’re told, or next time we won’t be so gentle. I go back to my bunk, bleeding, in pain. I’m afraid to go to the infirmary. I got no one to turn to. No friends inside, no allies. I go to the pay phone and try calling Adrian, who got away clean, the asshole. He changed his number. All I know is, if I tell the guards, those guys who beat me’ll come back, and this time I’ll be dead. So, I keep my mouth shut. I go to sleep, and next thing I know, the CO’s shaking me awake. They put me in the van to court, where that lawyer meets me. He tells me the case is overwhelming and my only hope is to plead guilty and throw myself on the mercy of the judge. He gives me a paper to sign. It says the drugs are mine, and I’m looking at ten years. And I’m like, No. He goes, Danny, if you do this, I can ask the judge to go easy. But if you resist, she’ll think you have no remorse. You’ll be locked up for life. And your friends will think you shafted them. I know these people. They don’t play, and they know where your mother lives.”
Madison went cold. “Your own lawyer threatened you? And threatened Mom? That really happened?”
“Yes, it happened. You think I’m making it up?”
“No. I—I’m just shocked.”
“Yeah, because you live in a fantasy world where everything is pretty.”
“Did the prosecutor object?”
“He wasn’t there when the lawyer railroaded me. Nobody was.”
“Did you ask to speak to him?”
“To the prosecutor? So they think I’m a snitch? That’ll get me killed for real.”
“What about the judge in the case?”
“What about her? In court, she asked for the evidence. And the prosecutor just said I was in possession of the bag, and my prints were on it. Which was true. As far as the judge is concerned, that’s the end of it.”
“Did you say the drugs weren’t yours?”
“I would’ve had to say it in open court in front of the lawyer and the dirty cop. Besides, it’s pointless. My lawyer goes way back with this judge. Has her in his pocket. He bragged about it. So, she’s dirty, too.”
“That can’t be true. It’s federal court. That’s like— How can I explain? The national court, the top, the most elite. The judges are highly educated, honest. Things like that don’t happen there.”
“Well, they did.”
“What’s the judge’s name?” Madison asked.
Danny shook his head. “Maddy, look, I appreciate that you came to visit. But I don’t want you in the middle of this. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now I’m screwed. I need to keep my mouth shut, or things will get worse.”
“You can’t just give up,” Madison said. “At least let me look into it for you. Find out if there are previous complaints against the judge, or your lawyer. Whether it would make sense for me to try to talk to them, or—”
Danny put his hands in his hair, pulling at it anxiously.
“Are you listening to a word I say? The judge is tight with the dirty lawyer. They’re in on it together. If you talk to either one of them, you’ll get me killed. Is that what you want?”
All the blood drained from their mother’s face. “Of course she doesn’t.”
“Then stay out of it. Not just for my sake. For Mom’s. I told you, they know where she lives. Ma, the guys who beat me up, they said your address. I can live with the consequences for me. But not for you. I couldn’t handle that.”
Tears stood out in their mother’s eyes. “Son, I’ll take that risk. You’re what matters.”
“No. I’m not letting you.” Danny turned to Madison, grabbing her hands. “You promise me, Maddy. For Mom’s sake, say you won’t talk to anyone. Not the judge. Nobody. Say it.”
“I promise I won’t talk to anyone without clearing it with you first. Just tell me the judge’s name, so I can do the research.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw guards rushing toward their table. Danny looked up in alarm.
“No physical contact,” one of the guards yelled. “Hands in the air.”
Danny threw his hands up. The guards yanked him to his feet and kicked his legs apart. One of them patted him down.
“What did she give you?”
“Nothing, that’s my sister. We were just—”
“He’s clean,” the guard said, shaking his head.
“This visit is terminated,” the other one said, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt.
Madison sought his eyes urgently. “Danny? The name?”
“Remember, you promised,” he tossed over his shoulder as they led him away. “It’s Conroy, Kathryn Conroy.”
4
They drove in stunned silence, both upset by the visit. They were nearly back to Boston before her mother spoke.
“You’re going to talk to the judge, right?”
“Mom, he said not to. He made me promise.”
“He doesn’t know what’s good for him.”
Madison shook her head. “It would be a mistake.”
“Don’t listen to him. This is too important.”
“I can’t even believe what he’s saying is true. This is crazy, but I know her.”
“You know the judge?”
“Yeah. She’s teaching at the law school. I’m taking her class.”
Mom gripped the steering wheel, turning to Madison with burning eyes. “Danny’s judge is your teacher?”
A car honked.
“Mom. Watch out.”
Yolanda looked back at the road. “But that’s wonderful. That makes it easy.”
“You’re wrong. It makes it really complicated.”
She couldn’t just walk up to Professor—Judge—Conroy and start questioning her about a pending case, involving a family member, no less. It would be so inappropriate that the judge wouldn’t only refuse to talk to her. She’d throw Madison’s internship application in the trash. That would accomplish zero for her brother while screwing up her chance at something she really wanted for herself. But try explaining that to Mom, who knew nothing about the legal system and even less about getting ahead in this world. She’d just assume Madison was being selfish. Which, okay, maybe there was an element of that. The situation was just impossible.
“Why complicated? Tell your teacher Danny is innocent. She’ll listen to you. You’re her student. She knows you.”
“She’ll think I’m trying to sway her judgment in a case.”
“People help their families. Everybody does it. She’ll understand.”
“Not in this situation. Not with a judge, not when she’s my teacher, not when the charge is drugs.”
“Oh, I see what’s going on. You think your brother is guilty. That he’s lying. You’re ashamed.”
“What I think doesn’t matter. Judges rule based on evidence. Danny said it himself. He went to a known drug spot to meet with a dealer, and his fingerprints are on that bag. I can’t change that. The judge won’t ignore it just because she knows me from class.”
“Madison, he’s your brother. You have to help him.”
“I want to. It breaks my heart seeing him in jail. But try to understand. Judge Conroy is not my friend. She’s a professor up at the front of a big classroom. She hardly knows me, and she wouldn’t take it lightly if I tried to influence her.”
That was basically true. Yesterday was her longest conversation to date with Judge Conroy. Mom expected her to work miracles, but Madison had no pull. The fact that the judge liked her answers in class, or invited her to apply for an internship, meant nothing in terms of how she’d handle Danny’s case. And once Conroy learned that Madison’s brother was charged with heroin trafficking in her own courtroom, her feelings about Madison would surely change. It probably wouldn’t affect her grade in the class. But she’d be a lot less likely to hire Madison as an intern. Come to think of it, was it even worth going through with the interview? Maybe she should withdraw her application. Or tell the judge about Danny herself, so it didn’t look like she was hiding something. But what if she got dinged because of Danny? Ugh, it felt so unfair. She wanted that internship.
At a minimum, she had to make her mother understand that she absolutely could not, and would not, under any circumstances, try to influence Judge Conroy’s ruling on Danny’s case.
“Well?” her mother said.
Mom would never understand. She had to fall back on her promise not to say anything.
“I promised him I wouldn’t say anything. He’s afraid of retaliation. I won’t second-guess him. It’s too dangerous.”
“So you’re just going back to your life like this is not your problem?”
She turned on her mother with the anger of a lot of years.
“I’ve been dealing with Danny’s problems since I was a kid. I did more than my fair share of taking care of him, and you know it.”
Tears glittered in Mom’s eyes. “After Dad died, I wasn’t myself. I had to send you kids away. Danny suffered, more than any of us.”
“I suffered, too. But that doesn’t seem to count for you.”
“You’re the strong one. That’s why we rely on you. You can do things that your brother and I can’t. I’m asking for your help here, love. Please.”
“I want to help. But you need to understand, I can’t just walk up to a federal judge and talk to her about a case. Judges aren’t allowed to discuss those things outside of court. If someone approaches them, it’s like they’re trying to influence the judge. It would be seen as improper. I could get in trouble. Is that what you want?”
“No,” her mother said. “Of course not.”
She sighed, looking out the window. Silence fell. Her mother wiped away tears. The sound of her sniffling tugged at Madison’s heart.
“There are some things I can do,” she said after a moment. “Get information. Do research. Come up with a plan. Danny doesn’t seem to have the most basic documents from his case, like the plea agreement. I’ll get the documents and try to figure out the next step. Get him a better lawyer. Appeal. I don’t know, but there have to be options, things we can do without trying to influence the judge.”
“Yes. More information. And a plan. That would help.”
They exited the highway. Not long after, her mother pulled up to the gates of Harvard Yard, turning on the blinkers.
“Jump out. There’s no stopping here, and I have to get to work,” she said, her jaw tight.
“Are you mad at me? You look mad.”
“I’m angry at the situation, Madison, not at you. I know you’ll do everything in your power to help your brother. Right?”
Madison’s chest tightened, but she nodded.
“Yes. Talk soon, okay?”
She blew a kiss goodbye and hopped out into damp, diesel-scented air. Passing through the gates of Harvard Yard was like entering a secret garden. The rain had stopped. The paths were carpeted with wet leaves that gave off a smoky smell. Madison inhaled the fragrance, breathing deep, consciously putting space between herself and her family troubles. All she wanted was to be just another student heading to class with her Starbucks and her backpack. No secrets, nothing to be ashamed of. No worries but studying and law review. The same as anybody else.
But she wasn’t.
Securities Reg had already started. The prof glanced up as Madison slunk in the door at the top of the classroom. Eyes on her feet, she hurried down the tiered rows to her assigned seat. The room was classic Harvard Law—beamed ceilings, ornate light fixtures, the smell of dust and history. She whispered apologies to the students on either side as she set up her laptop. Chloe, Ty’s girlfriend, sat to her right, a fluke of the seating chart. Not enemies by any means, they weren’t friends, either. Chloe graciously angled her computer so Madison could read her notes. The topic was insider trading, something Madison would normally find fascinating. Apparently, her famous powers of concentration could be shaken after all, though it took something as awful as seeing her little brother locked up in prison. She caught only snippets of the lecture, typing random phrases into her notes without comprehending their meaning, as her mind wandered, visions of Danny dancing before her eyes.
Danny in the playground at ten years old, bleeding from a cut lip after a fight. The other kid, bleeding worse. Danny outside the principal’s office, suspended again. Madison getting called out of class to take him home when they couldn’t reach Mom. I know your father passed, the principal said, talking to her like she was Danny’s mother, though she was only thirteen. But this can’t continue. I have other students to think of. Getting home, finding Mom dead asleep on the couch, dirty dishes piled in the sink, a stack of bills on the table. Shaking her mother awake. You didn’t go to work? She was just so tired, she said, pulling a blanket over her head.
That was the night Madison gave in and called Aunt Nilda. Not only because Danny kept acting out. They’d had nothing but peanut-butter sandwiches to eat for a week, and the utility bill said “Final Notice.” Nilda was Mom’s younger sister. No kids of her own, a high-paying job as a nurse in a big hospital, a two-bedroom condo in Brooklyn that she owned. She adored her niece and nephew, which was why Madison hesitated to call. Nilda would step in and take charge. Madison was afraid things would change, when they’d changed enough already.
She was right.
Mom was severely depressed, Nilda said. She needed help. Medical care. A break. The kids would live with Nilda in Brooklyn while Mom got better. For how long? Madison asked. Well, they’d have to wait and see.
She remembered sitting with Danny on the Greyhound bus, distraught at leaving her home, her friends, her mother. Taking it out on him. This is all your fault. He looked so devastated that she gave him the chocolate bar she’d bought with her last money. That first night, he trashed their room in Aunt Nilda’s condo, and Uncle Hector came in with the belt. It was a bad start. Hector was Nilda’s fiancé, a beat cop who believed that discipline kept kids off the street. That approach didn’t work on Danny. He needed love.
Madison thrived at Nilda’s from the start. She liked sitting down to dinner every night, saying grace and please and thank you. But Danny just squirmed and refused to make eye contact. Nilda took them to museums, concerts. Danny was so bored that he fought going, and eventually Nilda left him alone. Her apartment was tastefully decorated, with rugs, plants, books on the shelves. Madison loved it. Danny couldn’t stand the level of neatness required. Granted, she was a thirteen-year-old girl, and he was a ten-year-old boy. But it was also just a bad fit. She loved structure. He hated rules. He fell in with the troublemakers at school and was in the principal’s office constantly, just like back home. Nilda wanted to put them in Catholic school to get Danny away from the bad influences, but Hector objected to the expense. It’s my money. You don’t decide, she said, which started an argument that never seemed to end.
The more Hector and Nilda fought over Danny, the more Madison threw herself into school. She’d been placed in the gifted class. She became the extra-credit queen, volunteering for every club, making friends with the smart kids. They weren’t just a bunch of wallflowers, either, but artsy, verbal, political, unusually mature for eighth graders. New York did that—gave you an edge, made you grow up fast. Hanging out with them, Madison got interested in her Puerto Rican heritage for the first time. She perfected her Spanish slang, read the news, read history. Six months in, she was happy in New York, when Danny got caught smoking weed in the park. He was only eleven but tall for his age and hanging out with older kids. Hector went in to talk to him, and somehow, it turned into a blowout. Hector gave Danny a black eye, which was not okay. Nilda kicked Hector out, but it was too late to salvage the situation. Mom insisted they come back to Boston. That was too soon. She wasn’t back on her feet, which meant Danny couldn’t get on his.
The more things changed … Her brother had seemed so much better lately, until the arrest exploded their lives. That scene in the visiting room today, when he was led away in cuffs. She couldn’t get his face out of her mind. The fear in his eyes.
She was afraid he’d die there.
Class ended. Chloe was closing up her laptop. Her screensaver was a selfie with the Supreme Court justice who’d been her dad’s best friend in law school. Tell me you’re a legacy admit without telling me you’re a legacy admit. She wrapped a voluminous cashmere scarf around her neck and fluffed her perfectly highlighted blond hair. The girl had game, Madison had to admit, as much as she envied Chloe’s head start in life.
“See you at the party tonight?” Chloe said.
She felt suddenly exhausted from pretending that nothing was wrong. She wasn’t sure she could keep up the charade through an entire birthday party.
“I may not be able to make it.”
The spark of triumph in Chloe’s eyes annoyed her. Things were just too easy for that girl; and on top of it, she gets the guy? A guy whom Madison admittedly let go, but even so.
“Though I did promise Ty. So on second thought, yes—I’ll be there.”
And she flashed Chloe a smile.
* * *
Around seven thirty, Madison pushed her way into the pizza place in Harvard Square that was a big law-student hangout. It was shoulder to shoulder at the bar, every table full, and loud. She took a deep breath, inhaling brick oven and beer, and put on her game face. Ty was visible, head and shoulders above the crowd, surrounded by people. So handsome, smooth operator, golden boy. Some people still refused to believe that she was the one who broke up with him. Misogyny at work, since the two of them were obvious equals.
As she made her way over, Chloe’s blond head popped into view at his right. Her eyes grew wary as Ty leaned down to shout into Madison’s ear.
“We’re waiting for a table to open up. Can I get you a drink?”
She was tempted to let him, but why antagonize Chloe? Things were tenuous enough at the moment that she shouldn’t go making enemies.
“I’ll get it myself. You want anything?”
He shook his head. Madison fought her way to the bar. She was motioning for the bartender’s attention when a guy from Trial Advocacy class tapped her on the shoulder. They were shooting the breeze a few minutes later when Ty turned up beside her, his perfect smile lighting up the bar.
“What? You don’t have a drink yet?”
“Ah, I decided not to. It’s a school night.”
“But it’s my birthday.”
“I’ll catch you later,” the other guy said, glancing at Ty as he slunk away.
Ty had a funny habit of coming between her and anybody she showed interest in. If it wasn’t his birthday, she’d have called him on it. He ordered her a Manhattan, and one for himself. An obvious play—that had been their celebration drink when they were together. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. But his next sentence wiped their relationship issues from her mind.
“I hear you’re applying to the internship in Judge Conroy’s chambers. That true?”
“Who told you that?”
“Remember Sean Chen? Buddy of mine, graduated last year? He’s clerking for her this year.”
“Sean is Judge Conroy’s law clerk?”
“That’s right.”
“And he told you I applied for the internship? Why is that any of your business?”
“He thought we were still going out.”
“Even if we were, he shouldn’t be blabbing like that.”
“He was just making conversation. You know this place is a fishbowl. Nobody can keep a secret.”
“Why do you care if I apply? Unless you want the job for yourself?”
She’d felt so flattered when Judge Conroy invited her to apply. Well, maybe she wasn’t the only one the judge asked. Ty would be formidable competition.
“I’m not applying. I hear it’s a rough place to work, so I decided against it. I’m simply passing along that information. There’s a cloud around Conroy. I thought you should know, so you could reconsider if it’s a good use of your time.”
She looked at him in surprise, remembering that Danny claimed Judge Conroy was in on fixing his case. She didn’t believe that for a minute. Then again, it had been burned into her mind from way back that Danny was unreliable, and Kathryn Conroy walked on water. Conroy was one of the most noted alums of Madison’s prestigious Catholic high school. Years after she left, the nuns sang her praises. Conroy was why Madison first got interested in becoming a lawyer. She couldn’t be corrupt. No way.
But then, what was Ty talking about?
“What kind of cloud?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. I’ve just heard rumblings.”
“Rumblings. Seriously? If you know something, spill it, or else don’t badmouth people.”
“I’m just worried you’re overly impressed with her. You hang on her words in class like she’s this fountain of wisdom.”
“She’s a renowned federal judge. An amazing teacher. So yeah, I’m impressed. Nothing you said changes my mind.”
“It’s not a good place to work, that’s all.” He started ticking off the problems on his fingers. “They’re strict with deadlines. It’s a heavy case load. They want a lot of hours. And the last intern left on bad terms. They actually fired her. Imagine that happening to you.”
“You just described every judicial internship that exists.”
“Who fires an intern?”
“Maybe she did a poor job. I’m not worried. I plan to kick ass.”
Earlier, Madison had been thinking of withdrawing her application because of the complication with Danny. Count on Ty to rile up her killer instinct. His opposition made her want the internship even more.
“The last intern probably thought that, too.”
“You know what I wonder, Ty? I wonder if you’re planning to apply for the position, and you don’t want the competition.”
“I said I’m not.”
“Can you blame me if I’m skeptical? Everything’s a move with you.”
That had been a problem between them. He had a bad habit of fighting dirty when it came to getting ahead, like a lot of people at Harvard. He also came from a gilded background. Maybe not as much as Chloe, but his father was a prominent African American surgeon, his mother a high school principal, and they had a high profile in their hometown. Someone like Ty could never understand where Madison was coming from or some of the things she had to do to get ahead. He’d never struggled.
“Look who’s talking,” he said.
“You still don’t get me, do you?”
“I could say the same.”
The drinks came. She took out her wallet, but he waved it away.
“I’m paying,” she insisted, handing over her debit card. “Happy birthday, this is your present.”
“What about the crazy stuff in her past? Assassination attempts? Violence? Did you know her husband was murdered?”
“Yeah, I know all about her.”
Madison had Judge Conroy’s résumé practically memorized. Top of the class from Harvard Law. A prestigious clerkship. Ten years in the U.S. Attorney’s Office where she prosecuted high-profile cases before getting appointed to the bench as one of the youngest federal judges in the country. It was true that the judge had faced down terrible tragedy, but she carried on. How could you not admire that?
“Right, she went to your high school. I remember you saying that. No wonder you stick up for her. It’s the old girls’ network, huh?”
“No, I just don’t like to hear a good woman slandered.”
“Slander? That’s harsh.”
“Her husband was murdered, and you’re implying it was her fault.”
“I’m concerned that the murder had to do with her cases. Not that she killed him or anything.”
“I thought it was random. But even if it was because of her work, the way she soldiered on, doing what she believed in, just makes me admire her more. So, sorry. I’m still your competition.”
He snorted. “You’re impossible. Just remember, I tried to warn you.”
She pushed both cocktails toward him. “Chloe’s giving us the stink eye. Here, tell her I bought her a drink. I have to work on the internship application anyway, so I’m gonna split. Enjoy your party. Happy birthday.”
And she planted a kiss on his cheek.
Ty always managed to get under her skin. On the walk back to the dorm, she couldn’t stop his warning from rattling around in her head. She had to bone up on the judge to prepare for the interview tomorrow anyway. Why not look up her husband’s death? It had happened after Madison left Catholic Prep, during her freshman year of college when she was busy and distracted. She’d followed the story in the news because of her interest in the judge. But maybe she’d missed something.
Sitting cross-legged on her bed with her laptop open, she googled “Judge Conroy husband murder,” and it came right up. Matthew Latham, age thirty-eight, a teacher at St. Alfred’s Country Day School, had been gunned down “execution style” while unloading groceries in front of the home he shared with his wife, Judge Kathryn Conroy, in Wellesley, Massachusetts. A neighbor heard three shots, looked out the window, and saw a dark-colored SUV speed away, but didn’t get the plate number. There was no description of the shooter. The investigators looked for links to the judge’s cases. But they never found the killer, so the motive was pure speculation. That was five years ago. The murder was still unsolved.
Still. Execution style. At their house. That didn’t seem random.
It was chilling.
5
Walking into the soaring lobby of the federal courthouse the next afternoon made Madison’s heart race. There were lawyers everywhere, male and female, all ages and races, united mainly by the soberness of their attire and their urgency as they hurried to court. Clients of every description filled the hallways, as well as law clerks, cops, security guards, a television crew setting up to film with a reporter whose face she knew from the nightly news. As far as Madison was concerned, this was the center of the universe. Where she belonged. Her destiny.
She passed through a metal detector and took the elevator to Judge Conroy’s chambers, where she was buzzed into a tastefully decorated reception area with spectacular views over the harbor to the skyline. The receptionist told her to take a seat. The judge was stuck in court, and it might be a while. Court. The very word thrilled her. She’d never been in a real courtroom before, only the mock trial room at school, and correcting that oversight was just one reason that she wanted this internship so badly. Losing the chance because of Danny’s legal problems would be a terrible blow. And yet, last night, she’d nearly decided to withdraw the application. Lying awake in the dark, she struggled—apply or don’t apply, tell or keep quiet? If she didn’t say anything, would Judge Conroy find out on her own that Danny was her brother? Hard to say. Rivera was a common enough last name. Maybe the connection would escape notice if Madison didn’t bring it up herself. What harm would it do to keep quiet, as long as she didn’t try to influence Danny’s case? The temptation to say nothing was powerful. And yet, after hours of mental struggle in the dark, she came down on the side that it just wouldn’t be right to withhold the information. Madison was an honest person. She knew in her heart that she should come clean about Danny, so the judge could have all the facts when she made the hiring decision. Who knows, maybe she’d be impressed with Madison’s honesty and hire her anyway.
She decided to go ahead with the interview but tell Judge Conroy about Danny. It was the right thing to do.
When morning came, though, reality hit, and her resolution faltered. She got dressed and took the T into Boston, in a panic over how to broach the delicate subject. At what point in the interview should she mention it? What exactly should she say? She rehearsed scenarios in her head, but they never went well. As she took her seat in the waiting area, she was feeling shaky and unprepared. Not because of her credentials. Those, she was confident of. But because of the Danny problem.
A young man and woman were already seated, both wearing conservative dark suits. She didn’t recognize either of them. She murmured a greeting.
“You’re here for the internship?” she asked, and they nodded.
No sign of Ty? Was it possible he hadn’t applied?
“Do you know if there are other applicants, or is it just us?” she asked.
They shrugged, not meeting her eyes. A tense silence fell. They were each other’s competition, after all. Madison sized them up, running through the calculations in her mind. They weren’t Harvard Law, or she would recognize them. BU, then? Or BC, Northeastern, Suffolk? There were many good law schools in the city, but none with Harvard’s cachet. It was just a fact. Harvard hooked you up. Judge Conroy—an alum—hired exclusively Harvard grads as her law clerks, like Ty’s friend Sean. That said, the judge wouldn’t hire someone based on their Harvard pedigree alone. They had to have the grades, the credentials, and the personality to ace the interview. Fresh off law-firm recruiting season, Madison knew she could do it all. Her interview pitch had been honed on a dozen corporate law partners. She went over it now, in her head. Top grades, law review, internship at the legal clinic last summer, hands-on experience, a people person, organized, a hard worker, rose from humble roots, yada yada yada. It worked before. She had the offers to prove it, the pick of the top Boston firms. Besides, Judge Conroy knew her and had personally invited her to apply. This internship should be hers for the taking. And it would have been, if not for Danny.
Ugh. She wished she could just ignore the problem. But she had to tell the truth. It was the right thing to do. Integrity mattered. Judge Conroy would expect nothing less.
As if Madison’s thoughts had conjured her, the judge swept through the reception area in a swoosh of black robes, trailed by two young law clerks and an older woman with gray hair. The group disappeared through a door at the opposite end of the reception area without so much as glancing at the applicants. Judge Conroy wore business attire to teach. Madison had never seen her in robes before. Impressive. The vision lingered, along with the fragrance of the judge’s perfume, a velvety whisper of rose petals that she recognized from the classroom and breathed in now. How amazing to be part of Kathryn Conroy’s team, sitting in the courtroom during trial, coming back to the office to talk through the thorny legal issues. The judge asking her opinion, praising her legal analysis. Yet it could all slip through her fingers if she revealed the truth about Danny.
Beyond the tall windows, the sun set over the harbor. The receptionist was young, round, and pale, named Kelsey Kowalski, according to the plate on her desk. Kelsey looked at her watch, launching a jaw-cracking yawn. She lifted the telephone and spoke in a low tone.
“They’ll be out for you any minute,” she then said.
Then she put on her coat and walked out the door. The three candidates exchanged glances and settled in to wait, scrolling on their phones to avoid talking. Contrary to Kelsey’s assurances, it was forty minutes before the door to the inner sanctum opened and the law clerks emerged. Madison recognized them both—HLS grads from last year. The Black woman had been high up on law review when Madison was a first-year. The other was Sean Chen, Ty’s friend. He stopped short, looking at the applicants, and picked out Madison right away.
“Madison. I’m Sean. Tyler Evans told me all about you. Welcome,” he said, sticking out his hand.
They shook.
“Thanks, Ty mentioned you, too. Great to meet you,” she said.
“Tell him sorry I missed his party. We’ve just been real busy around here. Uh, Nancy’s gonna call you guys in one by one,” he said, directing the last remark to the group.
As Sean left, the other two cast resentful looks Madison’s way. The assumption was she had a leg up because of her connections. Maybe so, as far as the Harvard network went, but when it came to her brother, the opposite was true.
The gray-haired woman came up to them with a clipboard in her hand.
“I’m Nancy, Judge Conroy’s case manager, and I’m in charge of this application process. I’ll collect your transcripts and writing samples now, please.”
The case manager handled the judge’s docket, filing papers, scheduling court appearances, that sort of thing. Nancy looked the part of paper pusher, small and neat with a bland expression, dressed in slacks, a sweater, and loafers, with hot-pink readers hanging from a chain around her neck. They handed over their transcripts and writing samples. She went through the pages, shuffling them, sticking Post-its in places, then clipping them to her board.
“The judge will see you in alphabetical order by last name. Joshua Ackerman?”
The male candidate sprang up and followed Nancy into the judge’s office.
“What’s your name?” Madison asked the woman.
“I’m Priya Patel.”
“Madison Rivera. Nice to meet you. I guess you’re next.”
Joshua came and went. Priya was called. The interview blocks seemed to be about half an hour but felt longer to her as she sat there obsessing over what to say about Danny’s case. By the time Nancy called her, the sun had long since set, and Madison was starving on top of being mentally exhausted. She walked toward Judge Conroy’s office feeling lightheaded, shaky, and unusually anxious. Yes, she gave great interviews, but this time she was at a distinct disadvantage.
Goddamn it, Danny. Why do you always have to screw things up?
Then Nancy shut the door behind her, and she was alone with Judge Conroy.
She paused on the threshold, struck by the beauty of the scene. The skyline shimmering beyond the windows, and the judge, looking like an ice queen, all frosty blue eyes and pale skin, in a white silk blouse with diamonds glittering in her ears. For a second, Madison felt shy. Then the judge came out from behind her desk, a welcoming smile transforming her face. And Madison remembered that she was born for moments like these. She’d find the right words. She always did.
“Madison. I’m so glad you decided to apply. Come in, come in.”
“Thank you, Professor—or, I mean, Your Honor. I’m thrilled to be here. I was so flattered when you asked me to apply.”
“‘Your Honor’ is for the courtroom. Call me Judge; it’s less formal. Come, let’s sit over here.”
She led Madison to a cozy seating area with a sofa and armchair, and a coffee table with a perfect vase of white roses. Sinking into a corner of the sofa, Judge Conroy leaned back with a happy sigh, looking like she was ready to kick off her high heels. (She didn’t.) They were lovely, Manolo Blahniks, if Madison was not mistaken.
“It’s been a long day,” the judge confided. “A very dull trial, and now these interviews. I’m ready for a nap.”
Close up, the judge did look tired, with makeup caking in the delicate lines on her face and a tinge of sadness in her eyes. Or was she imagining that? The details of her husband’s death, fresh in Madison’s mind, cast her in a tragic light. From what she’d read in her search last night, Judge Conroy’s husband had been a wonderful human being and a dreamboat to look at. She’d never remarried. Of course, five years wasn’t that long a time to stay single after a loss like that. To the judge, it must feel like yesterday.
Wanting to cheer her up, Madison decided to hold off on mentioning Danny for the moment. She put on a perky smile.
“I’ll try not to be boring with my answers,” she said, perching on the edge of the armchair.
“I didn’t mean to imply that I expect to be bored. To the contrary. I’ve been looking forward to our chat. I enjoy your participation in class. You’re well-prepared and always have an opinion. I can tell you’re passionate about the Fourth Amendment, and it makes me feel the extra hours I’m putting in are worthwhile.”
“Oh, they are. I absolutely adore your class. We all do. You know what Harvard Law is like. So many of the profs are ivory-tower types. All theory, with no understanding of the real world. You tell it like it is, and that’s invaluable to me.”
The judge actually blushed at the compliment. “Thank you. I love teaching. But not everybody here is excited that I’m doing it. Nancy is unhappy about my absence from court. We’re falling behind on opinions, and she hates that. It’s a point of pride with her to have the fastest docket in the courthouse. Which is why we’re moving to fill this internship quickly, to maintain staffing levels, to churn out opinions faster.”
Madison was tempted to ask what had happened to the last intern. Was she really fired, and if so, why? Judge Conroy seemed relaxed and open enough that she might answer. Better to keep quiet, though. Sensitive questions were best reserved for after getting the job. Although not when it came to Danny. That, she had decided to disclose up front. Yet here she was, dragging her feet. Maybe she should just get it over with.
“Judge, I should probably mention—”
Judge Conroy held up a finger. “Hold on, let me review your CV,” she said, perusing the application.
Madison folded her hands in her lap. Taking a deep breath, she looked around the room. The office was large and beautifully decorated in shades of blue and gray, with soft lighting and silk drapes to soften the angular, modern lines of the architecture. In addition to the imposing desk and the seating area where they were, there was a conference table with chairs, and bookshelves lined with leather volumes. The one thing missing was any clue to the personal life of the woman who occupied it. The law partners with whom Madison had interviewed boasted credenzas covered in family photos, walls hung with diplomas, side tables brimming with their kids’ art. There was an explanation, of course. Her husband had been murdered. She had no children. There was no kid art to hang, no family photos. Even a wedding photo would be too painful.
The judge looked up, and Madison imagined she saw shadows in her eyes.
“Your credentials are impressive, but I need you to understand, this position is extremely demanding. You’ll be working for the law clerks, doing legal research and writing memos summarizing the results. The research you do will be directly used in drafting judicial opinions. The workload is intense. Do you think you can handle it?”
Madison had been asked that question on repeat during recruiting season. Her mind stuck on the Danny problem, she rattled off her standard reply. High honors in legal research class. Law review. Moot court. Judge Conroy nodded like she was paying attention, but her eyes glazed.
“I have to say, that sounded rehearsed,” the judge commented.
Madison’s cheeks flamed. She was distracted and screwing up.
“Sorry. I’ve been interviewing a lot.”
Conroy tossed the application aside. “Let’s get away from scripted answers. Tell me what’s not on your CV.”
What did that mean? Did she think Madison was hiding something? Was it possible that she knew about Danny?
“What I’m getting at,” the judge said, sensing Madison’s consternation, “is, what’s your background? Who influenced you? What made you want to be a lawyer?” the judge said.
“Oh. Okay. Well, you influenced me, to be honest.”
“I’m not looking for flattery. Dig deeper. Something from your past.”
“That is from my past. I went to Catholic Prep, like you did. I saw you speak at Career Day when I was fourteen years old. From that moment, I knew I wanted to be a lawyer.”
The judge’s mouth fell open. “I remember giving that talk. They asked me because they thought I’d set an example. I can’t believe you were there. Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. It was a tough time in my life, and school was my refuge. Hearing you speak was so exciting. I imagined myself in the courtroom, just like you. It gave me a goal to work toward. It meant a lot.”
Madison had wanted to tell her about their connection for the longest time. Now, the personal details came spilling out. Dad’s death, Mom’s breakdown, being sent to live at Aunt Nilda’s. The judge listened intently.
“My aunt supported my education,” she said. “She wanted me to go to private school, because I was academically gifted, and my mom was—well, she was going through a lot. My aunt was the one who helped me apply to Catholic Prep and get a scholarship, though it didn’t cover the whole tuition. I always worked outside school. But it was worth it. That place changed my life. I did Model UN. Debate. Student government. I branched out, took risks, tried new things.”
“Fantastic. Give me an example of that.”
“Well, for instance, I always loved to swim, but I never thought of myself as an athlete. I was encouraged to join the swim team. Turned out, I was pretty good. My year, the team went to the finals. Between the academics, the clubs, sports, and the excellent college counseling, I got into Harvard for undergrad. But I never forgot hearing you speak. From the beginning of college, I was aiming for law school.”
“I went to Harvard undergrad, too. Were you a Gov major?”
“Social Studies.”
“No kidding. Same. We went to the same schools, had the same major. And the personal journey really resonates, too. Madison, I can’t tell you how much this sounds like my own story.”
“Really?”
“Word for word. I’m from Southie, from a modest background, too. And I had hardships growing up.”
She never would’ve guessed. South Boston had gentrified a lot recently, but its history was as a tough, working-class neighborhood, mainly Irish, at least in the old days.
“I’m surprised. I would’ve thought your ancestors came over on the Mayflower.”
“I get that a lot. Whether it’s how I look, or the way I talk. And you, your heritage?”
“Puerto Rican from East Boston, though my mom recently moved to Revere. Rents are higher there, but the neighborhood is better. I’m glad for her. She has a good job now and is finally back on her feet. Things were tough after my dad passed.”
“I know just how that is. My mother wasn’t well, either. She had leukemia when I was a kid, and eventually passed away.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. I get the sense you understand the loneliness of it. The responsibility. Were you an only child, too?”
“Yes.”
What the hell? In the heat of the moment, the lie just fell out of her mouth. She was supposed to come clean about Danny. Instead she got caught up in their conversation and claimed he didn’t exist. Why? To seem more like the judge? She was an idiot. Now it was out there. She had to take it back. But how? The judge was leaning forward, her face aglow with emotion, going on about how alike they were.
“I knew it. You remind me so much of myself, Madison. I even had someone in my life—a family friend, but I called him Uncle—who supported my education when my mother couldn’t. Like you said, it wasn’t her fault. She was just ill, like your mom. Without Catholic Prep, I wouldn’t be where I am today. It made all the difference. The structure. The resources. Forget about Harvard. It’s our shared high school experience that convinces me you’re the right person for this job. And to think my Career Day talk all those years ago influenced you to become a lawyer. And brought us here, to this moment. That’s very meaningful to me. I want you on my team, Madison. You’re hired.”
Crap.
Instead of being thrilled, she felt trapped by her stupid mistake. It was too late to correct the record now. What could she do—say she forgot she had a brother? How would that look? The judge would start to wonder. She’d probably get suspicious and investigate. She’d find out about the drug case and think that Madison concealed it intentionally. Madison would look dishonest—exactly what she’d been trying to avoid.
Oh, God. She’d screwed up royally.
Maybe she should turn down the job.
But no, that would look bizarre, too, declining a position she’d just applied for after acing the interview. It wasn’t credible to say she’d had another offer. Nobody would believe that. Besides, after their conversation, she didn’t want to say no. She felt closer to Judge Conroy than ever before. The judge saw Madison as a younger version of herself. She could become an important mentor. They might even be friends one day. Was she really going to turn down this incredible opportunity because of Danny? That would be too unfair.
Of course, she’d have to tell eventually. She would tell. This just wasn’t the right moment.
The judge stood up and stuck her hand out for shaking. It was hanging there, becoming more awkward by the second.
“Thank you, I’m thrilled to accept,” Madison said, and shook her hand warmly.
“I’m so glad. We need you to start right away. See Nancy on the way out. She’ll give you the employment forms to complete. I’m so looking forward to working with you. Welcome aboard.”
“Thank you, Judge. I won’t let you down.”
The veteran of many practice interviews and numerous real ones, Madison recited those parting words automatically. But as she walked from the office, her smile faded. The truth was, she’d already let Judge Conroy down, and not in a small way. She lied to her face about having a brother. And not just any brother—a drug defendant in the judge’s own court. Not only did she feel terrible about it, but once the judge found out, the consequences could be severe.
They’d fired the last intern. What would they do to her?
Acknowledgments
Writing a book can be a solitary undertaking, especially during a global pandemic. But I am fortunate to work with the best people in publishing, who support me, inspire me, and make even the tough moments feel like fun.
This is my fifth book for my brilliant editor, Jennifer Enderlin, and I’m more grateful than ever for the opportunity to work with her. Jen has an unerring instinct for what a book needs, the vision for how to achieve it, and the patience to let it unfold. I am a better author for working with her, and this is a much better book. I’m also grateful for the talented and dedicated team at St. Martin’s Press whose hard work brings the book to readers. Special thanks to Erica Martirano, Brant Janeway, Christina Lopez, Jessica Zimmerman, Kejana Ayala, and Michael McConnell.
I can always count on my dear agents, Meg Ruley and Rebecca Scherer, to be there for me and to have my back. I could not do this work without them, nor would I ever want to. I’m so grateful for their hard work and support, as well as that of Chris Prestia and the rest of the team at Jane Rotrosen Agency, and Josie Freedman at CAA for her work on behalf of my film/TV rights.
Thanks also to Crystal Patriarche, Taylor Brightwell, and the team at BookSparks, who are so talented at publicizing books in the digital age. They have brought my work to the attention of countless new readers and are a pleasure to work with.
Most of all, I thank my husband, the one person who’s here every day and has to deal with me while I write. He’s a saint, and the best teammate I could ever wish for.
Also by Michele Campbell
The Wife Who Knew Too Much
It’s Always the Husband
She Was the Quiet One
A Stranger on the Beach
About the Author
A graduate of Harvard University and Stanford Law School, Michele Campbell worked at a prestigious Manhattan law firm before spending eight years fighting crime as a federal prosecutor in New York City. Michele’s prior books include It’s Always the Husband, She Was the Quiet One, A Stranger on the Beach, and The Wife Who Knew Too Much. You can sign up for email updates here.
THE INTERN. Copyright © 2023 by Michele Rebecca Martinez Campbell. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
