The Lexus pulled away. Gavin thought about making a run for his car but
then decided not to. At forty-six, he and his soft and abused body were
clearly in heart attack country.
It was early in the game yet. He’d get to them sooner or later.
He pulled up his collar against the wind and stalked off.
IT WAS NEARING MIDNIGHT WHEN THE LExus PULLED UP IN front of Kate’s
apartment building.
“Are you really sure you want to do this, Jack?”
“Hell I never really liked the murals, Kate.”
“What?”
“Get some sleep. We’re both going to need it.”
She put her hand on the door and then hesitated. She turned back and
looked at him, nervously flicked her hair behind her ear. This time
there was no pain in her eyes. It was something else, Jack couldn’t
quite put his finger on. Maybe relief ?
“Jack, the things you said the other night.”
He swallowed hard and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. He had
been wondering when this was going to surface. “Kate, I’ve been thinking
about that—-m”
She put a hand to his mouth. A small breath floated from ‘her lips. “You
were right, Jack … about a lot of things.”
He watched her walk slowly inside and then he drove off.
When he got home his answering machine had run out of tape. The blinking
message indicator was so full the light was reduced to one continuous
crimson beacon. He decided to do the most sensible thing he could think
of so he pretended they weren’t there. Jack unplugged the phone, turned
out the lights and tried to go to sleep.
It wasn’t easy.
He had acted so confident in front of Kate. But who was he kidding?
Taking on this case, by himself, without talking with anyone at Patton,
Shaw was akin to professional suicide. But what good would talking have
done? He knew what the answer would have been. Given the choice, his
fellow partners would have slit their collective flabby wrists rather
than taken on Luther Whitney as a client.
But he was a lawyer and Luther needed one. Major issues like this were
never that simple, but that was why he fought so hard to keep things as
black and white as possible. Good.
Bad. Right. Wrong. It was not easy going for a lawyer perpetually
trained to search for the gray in everything. An advocate of any
position, just depended on who your client was, who was filling the
meter on any given day.
Well he had made his decision. An old friend was fighting for his life
and he’d asked Jack to help him. It didn’t matter to Jack that his
client seemed to be growing unusually recalcitrant all of a sudden.
Criminal defendants were seldom the most cooperative in the world. Well,
Luther had asked for his help and he was sure as hell going to get it
now. There was no gray in this issue anymore. There was no going back
now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DAN KIRKSEN OPENED THE WASHINGTON POST AND
started to take a sip of his orange juice. It never reached his mouth.
Gavin had managed to file a story on the Sullivan case consisting
chiefly of the information that Jack Graham, newly ordained partner at
Patton, Shaw & Lord, was the defendant’s counsel. Kirksen immediately
called Jack’s home. There was no answer. He dressed, called for his car
and at half past eight walked through the lobby of his firm.
He passed Jack’s old office where boxes and personal items were still
clustered. Jack’s new quarters were just down the hall from Lord’s. A
twenty-by-twenty beauty with a small wet bar, antique furnishings and a
panoramic view of the city. Nicer than his, Kirksen recalled with a
grimace.
The chair was swiveled around away from the doorway.
Kirksen didn’t bother to knock. He marched in and tossed the paper down
on the desk.
Jack turned slowly around. He glanced at the paper.
“Well at least they got the firm’s name spelled correctly.
Great publicity. This could lead to some big ones.”
Kirksen sat down without taking his eyes off Jack. He spoke slowly and