Fiske finally nodded and Knight slipped in the front seat.
“Where to?” Fiske asked as they left the garage.
“Take a left at the light. I hope you don’t have anything pressing. It was rude of me not to ask.”
Fiske thought of McKenna waiting for him. “Nothing important.”
After he made the turn, Knight started speaking. “You shouldn’t have come back and said those things, you know.”
“I hope you didn’t come here just to tell me that,” Fiske said sharply.
“I came to tell you that I feel terribly about Sara.”
“Join the crowd. She tried to help my brother and then me. I’m sure she just loves the day she ran into the Fiske brothers.”
“Well, at least one of you anyway.”
“What does that mean?”
“Sara liked and respected your brother. But she didn’t love him, although, quite frankly, I think he was in love with her. But her heart lies elsewhere.”
“Is that right? And she told you this?”
“John, I really don’t like to admit to any gender bias, but I also refuse to ignore some basic realities: I doubt if my eight male colleagues have any clue whatsoever, but it’s clear to me that Sara Evans is very much in love with you.”
“Your womanly intuition?”
“Something like that. I also have two girls of my own.” She noted his curious look. “My first husband died. My daughters are grown and on their own.” Knight put her hands in her lap and looked out the window. “However, that’s not really why I wanted to talk to you,” she said. “Turn right, up here,” she said.
As Fiske did so, he asked, “So what is on your agenda? You people seem to always have one.”
“And you find that somehow wrong?”
“You tell me. Seeing the games you people play doesn’t give me warm fuzzies.”
“I can respect that point of view.”
“I’m in no position to really judge what you do. But, to me, you’re not judges, you’re policymakers. And what that policy will be depends on who lobbies hard enough to get five votes. What does that have to do with the rights of one plaintiff and one defendant?” As soon as Fiske had finished speaking he had a sudden, depressing thought: He had no room to complain about the Court and how it operated. He spent all his time dodging the truth on behalf of his clients. In a way, that was worse than anything the Court did or didn’t do in the name of justice.
They drove in silence for a minute until Knight broke it. “I started out as a prosecutor. And then became a trial judge.” She paused. “I can’t tell you that your feelings are wrong.” Fiske looked mildly surprised. “John, we could debate this until we’re both sick of it, but the fact is there is a system in place and one must work within that system. If that means playing by its rules and, on occasion, bending them, so be it. Perhaps that’s an oversimplified philosophy for a complex situation, but sometimes you have to go with your gut.” She looked at him. “Do you know what I mean?”
He nodded. “My instincts are pretty good.”
“And what do your instincts tell you about Michael and Steven’s deaths? Is there anything to this story of the missing appeal? If there is, I would really like to know about it.”
“Why ask me?”
“Because you seem to know more than anyone else. That’s why I wanted to talk to you in private.”
“Are you really hoping that I killed my brother and I’m using this appeal as a red herring? That way the Court doesn’t get a black eye.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You said as much to Sara at your party.”
Knight sighed and sat back. “I’m not sure why I did. Perhaps to scare her away from you.”
“I didn’t kill my brother.”
“I believe you. So this missing appeal may be important?”
Fiske nodded. “My brother was killed because he knew what that appeal said. I think Wright was killed because he was working late, came out of his office and saw someone at the Court going through my brother’s office.”