The Witnesses

by Robert Whitlow

“This concoction hasn’t done its work on me yet,” Parker said, putting down his cup. “I don’t have a more positive outlook on life or sense a need to trim my fingernails.”

  “Your hair is shinier,” Layla joked.

  When they finished their drinks, they left the coffee shop together and walked slowly down Middle Street.

  “Let me think some more about talking to my grandfather,” Parker said.

  “That’s fine,” Layla replied.

  They reached a stoplight and waited for it to turn green so they could cross.

  “Did you know your father is coming to town on Saturday?” Parker asked.

  “No. But he probably wants to see you, not me.”

  Parker glanced sideways at Layla, who was staring straight ahead. They reached her car.

  “Would you like to get together again?” Parker asked.

  Layla faced him. “Yes, but I’m feeling as uneasy about you and my father as you do about your grandfather and Gerhardt.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know it’s a cocounsel arrangement on a lawsuit. It’s just—”

  “That it feels uncomfortable because your husband worked for your father?”

  “Did he tell you about that?”

  “No.”

  “But it’s easy enough for a lawyer like you to find out,” she said.

  Parker didn’t correct her. Layla continued, “It’s none of my business what you do with your professional career. And I don’t want to come across as trying to make our spending time together something that it’s not.”

  “Please, it’s obvious that I like you and want to get to know you better. But we’re adults on our own. Let’s leave your father out of it.”

  “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Shortly before the time for Tom Blocker’s arrival at the office, Parker went downstairs and unlocked the front door. Dexter had come in earlier in the day but left around noon, saying he wouldn’t be back. Parker spent most of his time focusing on the depositions in the Calypso case. It was a grinding process; Parker was flexing legal muscles he didn’t know existed when he graduated from law school. Greg would be asking the questions, and it would be up to him to recognize unanticipated avenues of fruitful discovery. But Parker had to deliver his boss to the intersections in the road.

  It was cloudy outside, and several short thunderstorms that produced big drops of rain had punctuated the afternoon. Parker opened the door and smelled the ozone lingering in the air from the latest downpour. Blocker’s long, dark Mercedes turned a corner and rolled to a stop behind Parker’s car. The trial lawyer got out and raised his hand in greeting. As Parker watched him stride up the sidewalk, he could see a similarity with the determined way Layla walked after a camera shot. Blocker climbed the steps and entered the house.

  “Where’s Greg?” Blocker asked, looking around.

  “In the Bahamas for a long weekend.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I didn’t put him on the plane, but he left me a ton of work to do while he’s gone.”

  Blocker nodded. “All right. Let’s go to your office.”

  “I thought we could meet in the downstairs conference room.” Parker gestured toward the open door. “That’s where we usually meet with clients and it’s a better place to—”

  “I prefer your office,” Blocker said, cutting him off. “Lead the way.”

  Parker climbed the stairs and gave a forty-five-second tour of the second floor. “It’s cozy,” he said.

  “Are you familiar with the house for rent on Pollock Street?” Blocker asked.

  Parker knew the former residence. It was exquisitely restored on the outside, but he’d not been inside and had no idea how much the owner was seeking to lease it.

  “The white one with the beautiful woodwork on the front porch?”

  “Yes, I toured it a few minutes ago.”

  “Why?” Parker asked in surprise.

  “Where is your office?” Blocker asked in return, ignoring the question.

  They were standing in front of the closed door. Parker opened it. “Here,” he said.

  Blocker brushed past him. “Is that your grandfather? The one from Germany?” he asked, picking up the photo of Parker on the Aare with his grandfather.

  “Yes,” Parker answered. “That’s on his fishing boat.”

  “The Aare,” Blocker read. “I assume it’s named for the river that begins in the Oberaar glacier in the Bernese Alps and flows through Brienz, Thun, and Bern.”

  “I have no idea,” Parker replied. “My knowledge of Swiss geography is worse than my German.”

  “It’s beautiful. It’s the longest river wholly in Switzerland. If you ever see it, you won’t forget it.”

  Blocker didn’t comment about the photo of Parker and his parents. He sat in the single chair across from Parker’s desk. Parker slipped behind his desk, which made him feel like a school principal who’d called a student into the office. Blocker pursed his lips for a moment but then relaxed into a slight smile.

  “Do you know why I wanted to talk to you?” he asked. “And don’t be reluctant to guess.”

  An unanticipated thought shot through Parker’s mind, but there was no way he was going to express it openly. He swallowed and stared across the desk at Blocker.

  “I’m waiting,” Blocker said.

  “And I’m listening,” Parker replied, still feeling a lump in his throat.

  Blocker leaned forward and tapped the front of Parker’s desk with his index finger a couple of times. “I’d like to open a New Bern office and want you to come to work for me.”

  Parker coughed into his hand. He didn’t know whether to be shocked by the offer or by the fact that he knew it was coming moments before the words left Tom Blocker’s mouth.

  “Mr. Blocker,” he began. “I’m not sure what—”

  “Remember, call me Tom,” Blocker interrupted. “And that part is nonnegotiable.”

  “Tom,” Parker said, even though it felt unnatural. “It’s an incredible honor for you to offer me a job. I mean, you barely know anything about me. I graduated in the middle of my law school class, and I didn’t serve on the staff of the law review.”

  “But what I do know is more than enough. You have abilities that can’t be taught in a classroom. And when I meet a lawyer who has the innate ability to see around the corner before the evidence has arrived in the courtroom, it gets my attention.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean by—” Parker began.

  “Don’t play coy with me. I saw what you did in the Mixon arbitration. That wasn’t the result of detailed preparation. Greg kicked you out of the room because you were on to something that neither one of you knew when we started the hearing. Am I right or wrong?”

  “You’re right.”

  “And that wasn’t the first time something like that has happened since you started practicing law. Am I correct?”

  Parker didn’t respond.

  “Give me examples,” Blocker continued. “Include details without compromising client confidentiality.”

  Something about the way Blocker spoke demolished Parker’s resistance. He told him about several instances, including the bluff he ran in the DUI charge against Donna McAlpine. Blocker listened and didn’t interrupt. Finally, Parker stopped.

  “Is that all?” Blocker asked.

  “Yes.”

  Blocker shook his head. “I think you’re wrong.”

  Parker mentally ran through the other cases he’d worked on and came up empty. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Other than the Mixon arbitration, that’s all I can remember.”

  “What about insisting that Layla serve on the jury in the case against the lumber company?”

  “Oh yeah.” Parker nodded. “There was no real reason to lobby so hard for her based on voir dire. And we had no idea the reason you were in the courtroom was because she’s your daughter.”

  “Who told you that
’s why I was there? Layla?”

  Suddenly Parker realized she’d never confirmed his assumption.

  “No. But if you weren’t there to see her and didn’t have a case on the docket, why were you in the courtroom?”

  Blocker looked at him in a way that made cold chills run down Parker’s spine. He wasn’t sure if they were good or bad, but he couldn’t deny that he’d suddenly stepped into unfamiliar territory.

  “Can I have some time to consider your offer?” Parker asked after a few moments passed.

  “Of course, and all I’m asking is whether you’re interested in the possibility. We’d still need to discuss salary, profit sharing, benefits, and so on. Although I’d guess the total package would be significantly more than what you’re currently making.”

  “Okay.”

  “And will you agree to keep this conversation confidential between us?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  After Blocker left, Parker gave up trying to work anymore on the Calypso case. He went home, changed into his exercise clothes, jogged to the park, and threw himself into an exhausting workout that left him red-faced and breathing heavily. He bent over and put his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Returning home, he took a shower and plopped down in front of the TV, but nothing on the screen was able to hold his interest.

  Parker needed someone to talk to, but he didn’t want to violate his agreement with Blocker to keep their conversation confidential. He knew the primary reason for secrecy was Greg. If Parker abruptly abandoned the firm, Greg would consider it a personal affront and slander him all over town.

  Parker could bounce ideas off Creston without mentioning specifics, but his friend wasn’t likely to be a helpful option. He had no frame of reference for the legal world Parker lived in. Parker ran his fingers through his hair and turned off the TV. He knew who he needed to call, but speaking with her would be even tougher. Without formulating a plan, he picked up his cell phone and scrolled down to Layla Donovan’s number.

  “I’m at a wedding reception that’s going to last at least another hour and a half,” Layla said. “After that, all I want to do is go home and crash. I’m as beat as you were the other night.”

  “I wasn’t sure you could get together,” Parker said. “I know it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

  “Did you meet with my father this afternoon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

  Parker paused. “Yes.”

  “Did he offer you a job?”

  Parker couldn’t believe how quickly Layla had destroyed his promise of confidentiality to her father. “I can’t answer that,” he replied cryptically.

  “You just did, and you want to know what I think about it. Why don’t you meet me at church in the morning? Maybe your grandfather will be there, and we can eat lunch together. Your grandfather is a wise man. His advice will probably be better than mine. Also, have you decided to tell him about my contact with Gerhardt on the Internet?”

  “Church?” Parker asked.

  “Yes, it’s the place where people go to worship God.”

  Parker laughed. “Okay. It would probably be a good idea for me to go to church. I went for a while after my parents’ deaths, and it helped me a lot.”

  “See you then,” she said.

  The following morning Parker shaved and selected a charcoal gray suit and yellow tie. He inspected himself in the mirror. At least he looked the part of a man on his way to a religious service. The church was a ten-minute drive from his apartment. When he pulled into the parking lot, he almost turned around and went home. There wasn’t a sport coat in sight, much less a full business suit. The most common item of clothing for both men and women was blue jeans. Parker was going to stick out worse than a man with cut-off shirtsleeves and his arms covered in tattoos. At that precise moment, a bearded man in his forties got out of a black pickup truck with the multicolored artwork on his arms fully displayed.

  Parker took off his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. As he walked into the building, he looked around for Layla or his grandfather but didn’t see them. He walked up several rows before he saw a place where they could sit together. A band began playing softly. Parker felt someone touch him on the arm. It was Layla.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said, leaning close to whisper in his ear. “There was a car wreck in the intersection at the end of my street and I had to take a detour.”

  “What about Opa?” Parker asked.

  “I thought you might call him.”

  “I should have but didn’t,” Parker replied as the volume of the music increased and the band began to lead the congregation in a song.

  “You’re just like him,” Layla said in a slightly louder voice.

  “How?”

  “He wore a fancy suit the first time he came, but he didn’t ditch the coat and tie before he walked inside.”

  Parker listened absentmindedly to the unfamiliar songs. The church he attended as a teenager was more traditional; however, the youth minister had spent a lot of time with Parker and pointed him in the right direction during the first stages of grief. Parker still read the Bible on occasion and prayed a silent prayer or two when under pressure at work.

  Because he didn’t know the songs, he focused on some of the people sitting nearby and wondered what brought them to the service. He decided the woman beside him was going through a divorce and experiencing difficulty due to her kids’ choosing sides in the domestic breakup. In front of him sat a family of four: husband, wife, and two boys, one a teenager and the other a preteen. As Parker watched them, he suspected the older of the two boys couldn’t wait for the service to end so he could sneak away from the house for the rest of the day and hang out with a group of older boys who were going down a negative path strewn with illegal drugs. The younger brother leaned against his mother, who put her arm around him. Parker had the impression the boy was being bullied.

  When he was in school, one of the things Parker hated most was a bully. He’d always been part of a clique of popular boys so it never touched him directly, but he occasionally used his social standing to bring a more marginal boy into the protection of the larger herd. As he watched the younger boy, Parker thought about Reggie Richardson, a target of bullying in the eighth grade until Parker, Creston, and a couple of their friends invited him to sit with them during lunch. Parker wasn’t sure what happened to Reggie after graduation. He’d have to ask Creston if he knew.

  Frank wasn’t surprised when he entered the back of the crowded room and saw Parker and Layla standing together a few rows in front of him. All morning he’d been thinking about the three of them together in the church service. Twice he’d started to call Parker and invite him, but he stopped both times. His grandson worked so hard during the week that he didn’t need something else to do and somewhere else to go on Sunday morning. Now Frank realized a phone call was unnecessary. A smile on his face, he stood in the rear until the music stopped and then made his way forward to join them.

  Layla noticed Frank and stepped back so Parker’s grandfather could sit next to him.

  “No,” Frank protested in a soft voice. “I don’t want to sit between you.”

  “It’s okay, Opa,” Parker replied. “That way we won’t know who’s your favorite.”

  Eric’s sermon continued his series on talents and gifts regardless of age and experience. The primary biblical example he used was Timothy, with an emphasis on how Paul encouraged his protégé to follow God. The third of the pastor’s four points focused on 2 Timothy 1:5: “I am reminded of your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and, I am persuaded, now lives in you also.”

  The words reached out and grabbed Frank’s attention. He glanced sideways at Parker, who was checking something on his phone as the minister talked about the importance of a spiritual legacy. Frank was forced to realize he’d done virtually nothing to pass alon
g what his own grandfather had given him, another example of failure that could be inscribed on his tombstone.

  For his last point, Eric read 2 Timothy 1:6: “For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands.” Then, while the minister talked, Frank left New Bern.

  DRESDEN, 1929

  A long meeting ended on a balmy night. Eight-year-old Franz fell asleep curled up in a chair in the corner of the room. His mother gently woke him, but instead of sleepily making his way upstairs to bed, he stayed behind at his grandfather’s request. It was only the two of them in the downstairs area with chairs scattered about from the gathering. With his grandfather’s full attention directed at him, Franz rubbed his eyes.

  “Franz, did you see anything during the meeting before you fell asleep?” his grandfather asked.

  Franz didn’t have to think about his answer. “I saw snow coming down on people,” he responded.

  “Even though it’s warm outside and snow doesn’t fall inside the house?”

  “Yes, Opa. It wasn’t real snow.”

  “Was it falling on everyone or just a few people?”

  Franz remembered several people, including a family of four, who were sitting near the front of the room. He related what he saw.

  “They didn’t feel the snow,” he said when he finished.

  “Yes, they did,” his grandfather said with a smile. “Did it stay on them or disappear?”

  Franz rubbed his eyes again as he tried to remember. “It stayed for a little bit but then melted. Their faces looked shiny.”

  His grandfather nodded. “I saw that part, but not the snow. Do you know what the snow means?”

  “That they like snow?”

  “Everyone likes this kind of snow, and it can fall anytime of the year.”

  “How?”

  His grandfather leaned in closer. “Because this is the kind of snow that covers people’s sins. Are you thirsty?”

  Franz’s mouth suddenly felt dry. “Yes.”

  His grandfather went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of water. After Franz finished the water, his grandfather asked him a question.