“Beginning?” Ron replied. “He’s got more money than God and he’s living at my condo for half price and showing up here every night for dinner.”
Jack laughed. “Okay, okay, I get the picture. Ronnie, tell Liz we’re all going out Friday night on me—to the best restaurant in town. And then we’re going dancing.”
And they did. Ron and his wife, Liz, met them at a restaurant downtown called Preston’s where they had a wonderful meal. Afterward, they went dancing at a nightclub called Stella’s.
Jack wasn’t much of a dancer, but he’d had a few glasses of wine at dinner and it didn’t take long for Danni to get him out on the floor. She was smooth and, in no time, she had him dancing like he’d been a star pupil at Arthur Murray. Once they got into it, the two of them couldn’t get enough of each other. No matter whether it was a fast dance or slow, they were in each other’s arms, pressing close. Time had ceased to exist for them.
Ron and Liz left somewhere around midnight but Jack and Danni hardly noticed. They continued dancing until the lights came on and the bartenders were yelling for people to go home. Even after the band had stopped playing, they stood on the dance floor moving to music only they could hear.
“You guys gotta go,” the bartender yelled at them. “Get a room, for Chrissakes!”
He finally got them to leave on the third try.
“I’m gonna call the cops.”
That sobered Danni up quickly. “We’ve got to go,” she told Jack. “I don’t want any trouble at work. We can continue this at my house.”
When they finally arrived at Danni’s front door, there were no words between them. Jack simply followed her into the house. She closed the door behind them, took his hand, and led him to the bedroom.
They fell on the bed smothering each other with kisses. Jack lost all sense of everything but Danni. All he knew was the warmth of her skin, the sweetness of her smell, the moist touch of her lips. They made love slowly, softly, as if with a rhythm they had secretly known their entire lives.
In the morning, they awoke so enmeshed with each other it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.
For the next two weeks, they saw each other constantly. The first weekend of their relationship, Jack had to speak at a conference in Siesta Key. Danni went with him. Friends of Jack’s and their wives were there along with other folks neither of them knew. Danni fit in with everybody. They stayed out too late having fun on Friday and got up early the next morning and played in the surf. On Sunday morning, they just stayed in bed and talked about the people they’d met and the fun they’d had. Jack knew he was falling hard.
The next week was more of the same. They saw each other every day. On Wednesday night they went to dinner, drank a bottle of wine, and then went to the movies. Halfway through the movie he turned to look at Danni and she was sound asleep. I love this woman, he thought to himself. She fits with me so easily.
On Friday they went back to Stella’s and, again, it was as if they were the only people on the dance floor although they left well before closing time. The dance at home was so much more fun.
They spent Saturday canoeing on the Santa Fe River. It was a glorious day, one that he would never forget. They were totally alone. The only sounds were the birds singing and the river flowing. The sky was cloudless and powder blue but they were shielded from the glare of the sun by the tall pines along the shore and the giant oaks a little further inland. Gators rested along the banks or glided effortlessly through the water. Turtles were everywhere, resting either on rocks in the water or on old tree limbs. Every once in a while, one would just slip off and disappear under the surface. The water itself was crystal clear and Jack could see mullet swimming along, seemingly oblivious to the boat above them. It was hard to believe civilization was only fifteen minutes away.
Civilization, Jack thought. It’s overrated.
Danni was in the front of the boat in her bathing suit. She turned to look at him, a huge smile on her face. She was radiant.
“Isn’t this gorgeous?” she said. “It’s like we’re the only two people alive in paradise.”
“It’s perfect,” Jack replied.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jack woke up on Sunday morning, gazed at the beautiful woman lying next to him, and felt blessed to once again have love in his life. He was happy beyond words.
He didn’t know it was all about to come crashing down.
He drove to Bass Creek that day to get some clothes and go through his mail and, in general, to check things out. Henry arrived a short time later, which Jack thought was unusual. What’s going on with Henry? His behavior is strange. He stays with friends instead of me. He shows up at odd times.
They went out on the boat for a little while that afternoon and again on Monday afternoon. Henry seemed to be his old self again although Jack could tell something was on his mind. He called Danni Sunday night and again on Monday evening and had a pleasant conversation with her both times although he sensed that she was acting strange as well. What’s going on? Is it me? he asked himself.
On Wednesday he drove back to Oakville and showed up at Danni’s house unannounced around six in the evening.
“Hi. I wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon,” she said when she opened her door and saw him standing there. She was dressed in jeans and appeared to be getting ready to go out.
“I never said when I was coming back. I just decided to come today. You look like you’re going somewhere. Do you want me to come back later?”
“No, no. I was only going to get something to eat.”
“Would you like company?”
“Sure.” She hesitated halfway down the walkway and then stopped altogether. “Come on inside for a minute, Jack. I want to talk to you.”
They both went inside and sat at the dining room table.
“I can’t do this anymore, Jack.”
“Do what?”
“Continue this relationship.”
“What relationship? We just got started.”
“You know what I mean. Time is no measure of a relationship. You and I have gotten so close so quick it scares me to death.”
“What happened between Sunday morning and today?”
“Nothing happened. I’ve just had time to think. It’s just been too much.”
“We can tone it down. We don’t have to end it.”
“We can’t tone it down, Jack. It is what it is. Hannah has gone off to college and I’m starting a new direction in my life.”
“Does that mean you don’t have time for a relationship?”
“It means I’m not ready for one right now. I need time and space to see where I’m going to land. I mean, I love the time we’ve had, but it’s too intense.”
“I’ll lighten up.”
“You can’t. I can see it in your eyes. I can’t either.”
“We don’t meet people that we have an instant connection with every day, Danni. Sometimes, we never meet them. You and I are lucky.”
“I’m just not where you’re at, Jack. It’s the wrong time for me. I’ve got to end this now before we get any closer and I won’t be able to do it.”
They were both silent for a few moments after that last statement.
“Look, Danni.” Jack finally broke the silence, speaking in a soft, low voice. “I know this has been quick, but I also know it’s real. I know what I feel and I think I know what you feel. I can’t just walk away from these feelings.”
There were tears in Danni’s eyes. “You’re going to have to, Jack, because I’m not ready for this.”
Silence again for what seemed like an eternity. Jack didn’t know what to do or what to say. He could persuade a judge or a jury of his peers in the toughest of circumstances, but he had no words for this woman who had taken his heart. Deep down, though, he knew he didn’t want to persuade her. This was a decision she would have to make on her own.
“I’m going to go,” he said softly. “I’ll be in town
for at least another week. You’ve got my number. Call me whenever you have a mind to—about anything. I’ll be there.”
He stood up. Danni stood up, too, and hugged him tight. He felt from that embrace that this was just as hard for her as it was for him. Then he left.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jack was sitting at the bar in The Swamp putting down his third beer when Ron showed up.
“Out on your own tonight, lover boy?”
“I am. Sit down. I’ll buy you a beer.”
“Can’t. Don’t drink in my own place. That’s a rule.”
“Well then, let’s go somewhere you can drink.”
They’d been friends for too long. Ron could tell there was something not quite right about old Jack. “All right, finish up. We’ll go in my car.”
They drove down College Avenue heading out of town.
“Henry was in The Swamp last night for dinner. I stopped and chatted with him a little bit,” Ron said.
“That’s funny,” Jack said, more to himself than to Ron. “I thought he’d gone back to Miami. What the hell is he doing here?”
“I don’t know.”
Ronnie took him to a dark, quiet little spot east of town. There were a few people at the bar but other than that it was deserted. An attractive middle-aged brunette wearing a tight top and showing some great cleavage was tending bar.
“Well, if it isn’t the grand pooh-bah come to visit the slums,” she said to Ron who leaned over the bar and planted a kiss smack on her lips.
“Mabel, this is my friend Jack.”
“Pleased to meet you, Jack. Any friend of Ron’s is a friend of mine—only because Ron might buy this place someday and I need the job, know what I mean?”
Jack smiled. “I do.”
“What are you having?”
“Give us a couple of martinis,” Ron said. “Jack needs to talk and I’ve got to get him a little drunk first.”
“Sure thing.” She looked at Jack for a minute. “I’d say it’s woman trouble. I’ve been doing this for a long time—usually get it right.”
“Unfortunately you’re right again, Mabel.”
“Don’t worry. A good-looking guy like you won’t be lonely for long. Not in this town. As a matter of fact, I get off in five hours if you’re still around.”
That got another laugh out of Jack. “Thanks, Mabel, but I don’t think I’ll be making it that long. Not after this martini.”
Mabel had just handed him and Ron their martinis. She worked as she talked, always in motion.
“I’m here six nights a week, honey. You decide to go slumming again, you come see Mabel.”
Mabel moved on down her bar. The place was starting to fill up and she was greeting her regular customers.
“She’s a great bartender for a place like this,” Ron told Jack. “She’s got the goods—not bad looking, big tits, and a great personality. She packs the joint.”
“Why don’t you hire her?”
“I’ve got a different type of place. We cater to the college kids, the professors, and the businessmen. This is a workingman’s bar. You need a little fantasy and a little conversation. Mabel gives you all of it. She creates that little possibility in your mind that you might be the guy tonight. It keeps ’em coming back. Enough about Mabel; let’s talk about Jack.”
“Nothing to talk about really.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Jack. I see that puppy-dog look in your eyes. You’re a great lawyer but you’re a little sappy when it comes to the game of love.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that you can tear somebody apart on the witness stand when they try to bullshit their way out of something, but a woman can wrap you around her finger in a heartbeat. Don’t forget, I’ve been through all your relationships with you. Pat was a great lady, but you picked some doozies before her.”
“Thanks for the compliment. If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a hell of a job. Remember you introduced me to Danni.” Jack took a large sip of his martini, finishing it off.
“Take it easy,” Ron told him. “You sip these drinks. It’s not like a beer.”
“Do you think I haven’t had a martini before?”
“I’ve never seen you drink one. Let’s get back to you and Danni. I thought you’d be great for each other. You’ve both been kind of out there for years. So what happened?”
Jack got Mabel’s attention and ordered a beer. One martini was enough.
“She just said she couldn’t do it anymore.”
“Do what?”
“Be in a relationship.”
Ron didn’t say anything for a minute or two. He was thinking about the situation.
“Maybe she just needs a little time, Jack. You guys have been seeing a lot of each other. She may be overwhelmed.”
“I’m an overwhelming guy.”
“And then some.”
Jack stayed in Oakville for another week although he never heard from Danni. He went jogging every day on his favorite path through the woods. On the morning he decided would be his last day, he came around a bend just after the sinkhole and found a man kneeling on the path maybe twenty feet ahead of him. The man had a ski cap on and a gun in his hand. The gun was pointed at Jack.
Jack had nowhere to go. The guy was obviously waiting for him. He desperately dove for the bushes. As he did so, he heard a pop. It wasn’t a gunshot. Maybe the gun had a silencer. Jack hadn’t noticed. He landed in the woods, hidden behind a decayed old oak amid a slew of dead leaves. He didn’t appear to be hit. He wasn’t in any pain.
What do I do now? Run, or just stay here?
He didn’t hear any more movement so he decided to stay put. If the guy found him, he’d be helpless but if he got up and ran, he might be an easier target. At least here he was fortunate enough to be somewhat hidden. A murderer doesn’t have the luxury of spending too much time searching around for his victim.
After about twenty minutes of lying completely still, when he heard no further sounds, Jack stood up and stepped back onto the path. What he saw shocked him.
The shooter was lying where Jack had first seen him with a pool of blood forming around his head. He was still in the kneeling position although he had fallen over. Jack carefully checked for a pulse. There was none. Then he saw the bullet wound in the temple on the right side.
So I come around this bend and this guy is kneeling ready to shoot me but instead somebody shoots him. Who? And why?
It took him a few minutes to think that one through but when he did, he decided it would be best to leave the premises. If he was there when the cops arrived, it wouldn’t be hard to put two and two together. He stopped at a convenience store along the way, asked to use the phone, and called 911, giving the dispatcher the exact location of the body.
Oh yeah, Jack thought as he ran back to the condo. It’s definitely time to go home.
PART THREE
Almost Two Years Later
January 2003
Route 27
Ten Miles South of
Perry, Florida
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jesus, can they make these damn trucks any smaller? If they’re going to sell them in America, they should make them to fit Americans.”
Jack was mildly amused watching Henry negotiate the passenger side of his Toyota pickup. The man was just too big. His knees were banging against the underside of the glove compartment and the rest of his body was squished against the passenger door. He’d been squirming for the last three hours. Now he was starting to voice his complaints.
“They do make them for normal Americans, Henry, but you don’t fit into that category.”
“You don’t look so comfortable over there yourself,” Henry grumbled.
It was true. Jack wasn’t a small man either, although he wasn’t Henry’s size and he didn’t have his bulk. Still, he’d have been a lot more comfortable in the Suburban.
“Why didn’t we bring th
e Suburban?” Henry asked as if he’d read Jack’s mind.
“They have a great tree farm up in Tallahassee. I want to buy some trees and stick them in the pickup and take them home.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of shipping? You order the trees, have them shipped, and we drive to Tallahassee in comfort.”
“It’s not that easy. I like to see the trees and get a feel for them before I buy them. And I like the idea of transporting them myself.”
Henry just looked at him. “When did you become Chauncey Gardener?”
“What are you talking about? I’ve always liked to garden.”
“Yeah, and I always liked to play the violin, only I never had one. Your gardener quit last year. That’s when you started this stuff.”
“Okay. And I found I liked it. It’s soothing. It calms me. Do you have problems with that, Mister Macho Man?”
“No. Whatever floats your boat is fine with me, honey. The only thing I have problems with is this damn truck. What are we going to Tallahassee for anyway? I mean, what am I going for?”
“Ben wants to talk to us.”
“Us? Ben has never talked to me in my life except to say hello a few times. Do you know what it’s about?”
“I have no idea. I assume it’s a case.”
Ben Chapman was the executive director of Exoneration, the anti–death penalty advocacy group where both Jack and Henry donated their services, Jack as a lawyer and Henry as his investigator.
“Does he normally ask you to come talk to him personally about a case?” Henry asked.
“Never. It’s usually done by telephone, mail, or e-mail.”
“Then this must be something very unusual. What the hell does he want to talk to me about—how to investigate?”
“I have no idea, Henry. I have no idea.”
They found out soon enough. Their appointment was the next morning, Monday, at nine sharp. Ben Chapman was waiting for them. He was a mid-sized portly man, mid- to late-fifties, with a shaved head, a short gray beard, and a deep voice. Chapman was an attorney like Jack, but that’s where the similarity ended. He’d been a transactional lawyer with a tax background and had made his considerable fortune from acquisitions of all kinds, often taking a piece of a deal that he put together as his fee. After he’d been retired for a couple of years and bored stiff, he looked for a challenge to sink his teeth in. A Texas death penalty case he’d read about, in which a man had been executed for killing his wife and children and was later determined to be innocent, got him interested in the process. Then he started reading about other injustices, mostly across the South, and he was hooked. Unlike Jack, Chapman couldn’t offer his legal services since he had no experience in the courtroom, so he offered his considerable organizational skills. Before long, he was running Exoneration.
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