slid his security card in, waved to the security camera posted outside
the garage door, and a few minutes later was in the elevator heading up.
He didn’t know exactly why he was here. His days at Patton, Shaw were
now clearly numbered. Without Baldwin as a client, Kirksen would ride
him out on a rail. He felt a little sorry for Lord. He had promised the
man protection: But he wasn’t going to marry Jennifer Baldwin simply to
ensure Lord’s mammoth draw check. And the man had lied to him about
Barry Alvis’s departure from the firm. But Lord would land on his feet.
Jack hadn’t been kidding about his faith in the man’s resiliency. A
number of firms would snap him up in a New York minute. Lord’s future
was far more assured than Jack’s.
The elevator doors opened and Jack stepped into the fum s lobby. The
wall lights were on low and the shadowy effect ,o cornwould have been a
little unnerving if he hadn’t been r pletely preoccupied with his
thoughts. He walked down the hallway toward his office, stopped at the
kitchen and grabbed a glass of soda. Ordinarily, even at midnight, there
were a few people beating their brains out over some impossible
deadline. Tonight there was only stone-cold silence.
Jack turned on his light and closed his office door. He looked around at
the domain of his personal partnership. His kingdom, if only for another
day. It was impressive. The furniture was tastefully expensive, the
carpet and wall coverings luxurious. He went down his line of diplomas.
Some hardearned, others freebies that you got for just being alawyer.
He noticed that the scattered papers had been picked up, the work of the
meticulous and sometimes overzealous cleaning crew who were used to
attorney sloppiness and the occasional MI-blown tantrum.
He sat down, leaned back in his chair. The soft leather was more
comfortable than his bed. He could visualize Jennifer talking with her
father. Ransomed Baldwin’s face would flame red at what he would perceive
as an unforgivable insult to his precious little girl. The man would
lift the phone tomorrow morning and Jack’s corporate career would be
over.
And Jack couldn’t have cared less. His only regret was not instigating
that result sooner. Hopefully PD would take him back. That was where he
belonged anyway. No one could stop him from doing that. No, his real
troubles had started when he had tried being something and someone he
wasn’t.
He would never make that mistake again.
His attention shifted to Kate. Where would she go? Had she really been
serious about quitting her job? Jack recalled the fatalistic look on
her face and concluded that, yes, she had been quite serious. He had
pleaded with her once more.
Just like four years before. Pleaded with her not to go, not to leave
his life again. But there was something there he could not break
through. Maybe it was the enormous guilt she carried. Maybe she simply
did not love him. Had he ever really addressed that possibility? The
fact was he hadn’t. Consciously had not. The possible answer scared the
hell out of him. But what did it matter now?
Luther dead; Kate leaving. His life hadn’t really changed all that much,
despite all the recent activity. The Whitneys were finally,
irreversibly, gone from him.
He looked at the pink pile of messages on his desk. All routine. Then he
hit a button on his phone to check his voice mail, which he hadn’t done
in a couple of days. Patton, Shaw let their clients have their choice of
the antiquated written phone message or the technologically advanced
voice mail.
The more demanding clients loved the latter. At least then they didn’t
have to wait to scream at you.
There were two calls from Taff Crimson. He would find Taff another
lawyer. Patton, Shaw was too expensive for him anyway. There were
several Baldwin-related matters. Right.
Those could wait for the next guy Jennifer Baldwin set her laser sights
on. The last message jolted him. It was a woman’s voice. Small,
hesitant, elderly, clearly uncomfortable with the conce of voice mail.
Jack played it back again.