you, Tristan.”
“No sweat,” the boy said.
“Fm very sorry about your sister.”
“Thanks, man.” He pulled the pink comforter off his sister’s bed and threw it toward the open box.
Clevenger and Burns walked back downstairs.
“Thank you for all your help,” Clevenger said. He held out his hand.
Burns shook it.
Clevenger noticed Burns’s signet ring, engraved with the distinctive seal of Yale University, carrying the Hebrew text Urim v’Tumim and its Latin translation Lux et Veritas . The most common English translation was “Light and Truth,” but many scholars insisted a more accurate translation was “Light and Perfection.” In the Bible, the words appear on the breastplate worn by the high priest in the temple. “So, you’re Yale, too,” Clevenger said, nodding at the ring.
“Undergrad and law school,” Burns said. “They couldn’t get rid of me.”
“Get back much?”
“Whenever I can,” he said. “In a lot of ways, I never left. Most of what I am, I became when I was there.”
TWENTY-ONE
Clevenger stopped at a pharmacy on Michigan Avenue and wrote himself a prescription for a few Ativan tablets to slow his pulse and stop the churning in his gut—both symptoms of withdrawal from alcohol. He was in a taxi on his way to the airport to meet Whitney McCormick for their 5:45 flight to D.C. when he finally thought to check his messages. He turned on his cell phone and dialed his voice mail.
The first message was from from Tony Traini, one of the best criminal attorneys Clevenger had ever worked with. He had heard Billy was in trouble and was offering to help.
Clevenger wondered whether he ought to take him up on his offer. Letting a public defender handle Billy’s case would prove a point, but if it cost Billy years in jail, hanging out with hardened criminals, it could also prove to be the end of Clevenger’s dreams for him.
The second message was a dinner invitation from Jan Urkevic, one of Boston’s leading psychiatrists.Urkevic looked like a rock star and had lived like one until he had gotten married and had his first child, a glistening little girl named Ava. Clevenger liked spending time with him, his wife, Lisa, and their four lads at their estate just south of the city. When Clevenger’s hopes for a normal life dimmed, he could sometimes rekindle them just by watching Urkevic shower love on his family, and watching his family love him back.
The third message, from North Anderson, dwarfed the first two. “I’ve got a little news about Billy you ought to know,” he said. “Give me a call as soon as you get a chance.”
Clevenger hung up and dialed him.
“Hey, buddy,” he answered.
“So, what’s up with Billy now?”
“He made bail.”
“What? Bail was twenty grand.”
“His public defender petitioned the court and got it reduced to five.”
“He doesn’t have that kind of money.”
“He didn’t post it himself. Dave Leone called our office from the Middleton Jail to give us the heads-up. A group of those gangbangers Billy used to tangle with walked in with cash. The Royals. No way the jail could turn them down.”
Clevenger’s heart sank. “Any idea where he is?”
“Not yet. I’m in New Haven. I meet with the dean of alumni services in ten minutes. I put the word out to our friends at the Chelsea police station to look out for him.”
“Thanks.” He was about to say he would head home right away, but McCormick was probably already at the airport waiting for him. At some point, he neededto start salvaging his own life, not just Billy’s. “Phone’s on,” he said. “Call me with anything.”
“You know I will. Anything else?”
Clevenger could barely focus on what he needed to tell Anderson about the case. “One thing before we hang up,” he said. “Scout Van Myer’s father was a Yale grad and major contributor. I’ll tell you more later. But we’re definitely up to four victims with connections there.”
“Worth the trip,”
“No sweat,” the boy said.
“Fm very sorry about your sister.”
“Thanks, man.” He pulled the pink comforter off his sister’s bed and threw it toward the open box.
Clevenger and Burns walked back downstairs.
“Thank you for all your help,” Clevenger said. He held out his hand.
Burns shook it.
Clevenger noticed Burns’s signet ring, engraved with the distinctive seal of Yale University, carrying the Hebrew text Urim v’Tumim and its Latin translation Lux et Veritas . The most common English translation was “Light and Truth,” but many scholars insisted a more accurate translation was “Light and Perfection.” In the Bible, the words appear on the breastplate worn by the high priest in the temple. “So, you’re Yale, too,” Clevenger said, nodding at the ring.
“Undergrad and law school,” Burns said. “They couldn’t get rid of me.”
“Get back much?”
“Whenever I can,” he said. “In a lot of ways, I never left. Most of what I am, I became when I was there.”
TWENTY-ONE
Clevenger stopped at a pharmacy on Michigan Avenue and wrote himself a prescription for a few Ativan tablets to slow his pulse and stop the churning in his gut—both symptoms of withdrawal from alcohol. He was in a taxi on his way to the airport to meet Whitney McCormick for their 5:45 flight to D.C. when he finally thought to check his messages. He turned on his cell phone and dialed his voice mail.
The first message was from from Tony Traini, one of the best criminal attorneys Clevenger had ever worked with. He had heard Billy was in trouble and was offering to help.
Clevenger wondered whether he ought to take him up on his offer. Letting a public defender handle Billy’s case would prove a point, but if it cost Billy years in jail, hanging out with hardened criminals, it could also prove to be the end of Clevenger’s dreams for him.
The second message was a dinner invitation from Jan Urkevic, one of Boston’s leading psychiatrists.Urkevic looked like a rock star and had lived like one until he had gotten married and had his first child, a glistening little girl named Ava. Clevenger liked spending time with him, his wife, Lisa, and their four lads at their estate just south of the city. When Clevenger’s hopes for a normal life dimmed, he could sometimes rekindle them just by watching Urkevic shower love on his family, and watching his family love him back.
The third message, from North Anderson, dwarfed the first two. “I’ve got a little news about Billy you ought to know,” he said. “Give me a call as soon as you get a chance.”
Clevenger hung up and dialed him.
“Hey, buddy,” he answered.
“So, what’s up with Billy now?”
“He made bail.”
“What? Bail was twenty grand.”
“His public defender petitioned the court and got it reduced to five.”
“He doesn’t have that kind of money.”
“He didn’t post it himself. Dave Leone called our office from the Middleton Jail to give us the heads-up. A group of those gangbangers Billy used to tangle with walked in with cash. The Royals. No way the jail could turn them down.”
Clevenger’s heart sank. “Any idea where he is?”
“Not yet. I’m in New Haven. I meet with the dean of alumni services in ten minutes. I put the word out to our friends at the Chelsea police station to look out for him.”
“Thanks.” He was about to say he would head home right away, but McCormick was probably already at the airport waiting for him. At some point, he neededto start salvaging his own life, not just Billy’s. “Phone’s on,” he said. “Call me with anything.”
“You know I will. Anything else?”
Clevenger could barely focus on what he needed to tell Anderson about the case. “One thing before we hang up,” he said. “Scout Van Myer’s father was a Yale grad and major contributor. I’ll tell you more later. But we’re definitely up to four victims with connections there.”
“Worth the trip,”
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