Nick wasn’t buying it. “All I have to do is ask my brother.”
“He won’t say nothin’. She don’t know him!” Robert insisted.
“Okay, okay, but you know Donald Favier, right? The Reverend.”
Julie’s mascara-rimmed eyes slid away. She licked her lips nervously and looked as if she wanted to disappear. “I went to church there at Holy Trinity a couple of times. With my mom.”
“And you ended up at Cahill House where he was the pastor.”
She swallowed hard and blushed. Some of her hard-edged crust melted away and she looked like the kid she was. “Yeah. I was pregnant.”
“Were you the father?” Nick asked Robert.
“Yeah, so what of it?” the boy shot back. “Jules, we don’t got to say nothin’ to these losers.”
“What happened to the baby?” Nick asked.
Julie’s eyes closed for a second and she looked as if she might be woozy, but she managed to lift her chin. “I had an abortion.”
“Your idea?” Again Nick asked Robert.
He shrugged. “It was Julie’s problem—er, decision. I went along with it. Whatever she wanted.”
“So what about the charges against the Reverend? Did he touch you inappropriately while he was counseling you?” Nick asked gently, and Julie’s eyes turned red, as if she were fighting tears. She bit at her thumbnail. “Julie?”
“He . . . he was nice to me,” she said, and a tear drizzled down the side of her nose. She worked feverishly at the nail.
“Did he talk you into the abortion?”
She swallowed hard. Shook her head. “That . . . that was my idea. He wanted me to have the baby and give it up for adoption. I just couldn’t do that. I couldn’t stand knowing that someone else was raising my kid . . . I should have kept it, but . . . I just . . . didn’t . . .” Tears were running down her face and Nick had to force himself to stay where he was.
“Hey—you don’t have to answer none of these questions, Jules,” her husband said. He swung out of his chair to stand next to her, placed a big hand on her shoulder. “You guys can just leave, okay? You’re upsettin’ her.”
“No . . . it’s okay. They’re right. I need to talk to the police,” she whispered.
“No way. Jules, remember, we’ve got a sweet deal goin’. We don’t want to fuck with it.”
“But I don’t want to go to jail.”
“You won’t, babe. They’re just blowin’ smoke up your ass,” he said, edgy, and Nick wondered if he was on crank. All hyped up. A meth addict?
“Try us,” Walt said. “What kind of a deal do you have? Who’d you make it with?”
“She’s not sayin’.”
“She can talk for herself.” Nick looked straight at the girl. “You don’t need this kind of trouble. And think about your mom.”
Julie swallowed hard, picked at some lint on the arm of her chair. “I don’t know.”
“Jules, please, this is a real good deal, don’t blow it.” Robert’s hand rubbed her shoulder and if his look could kill, Walt and Nick should be six feet under and pushing up daisies.
Sniffing loudly Julie fought a losing battle with tears. Mascara ran down her cheeks. She slapped the tears angrily away. “I . . . I have to say something,” she said. “It’s eating me up inside.”
“Oh, shit, no.” Robert shook his head, squeezed her shoulder. “Think what this means to us, baby. This is our ticket—”
“Your ticket? What the hell did you do?” she demanded.
“Hey, whoa.” He backed up a step and hooked a thumb at Nick. “These pricks are just messin’ with yer mind, baby.”