While Justice Sleeps

by Stacey Abrams

  “What happened?”

  “It is imperative that you tell me the truth, Avery.”

  “Of course.” What in the hell is going on? Did something happen to Justice Wynn after his speech? Avery nodded sharply. “You can trust me.”

  Major Vance sent a look to the Chief, who ignored the warning glare. It was her office, her court. Her choice. “Last night, Justice Wynn fell into a coma.”

  “Oh, God.” Avery whipped her head around to the agent, then turned back to the Chief. “He wasn’t sick. He’s never sick.”

  “His nurse found him early this morning. Unconscious. It may explain his recent outbursts.” She gave Avery’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Howard has been ill for some time, Avery. He has a degenerative brain disorder known as Boursin’s syndrome.”

  “A brain disorder? Why—what—” Avery fumbled through the questions. “He’s been moody lately, and short-tempered, but that’s not really out of character.” She didn’t mention the odd instructions he’d given her several weeks ago to rewrite an order to nullify a contract between two milk producers, using the Dutch Defense as a metaphor. No one else would care about an obscure chess opening move. Avery loved the game, but even she barely understood Wynn’s point. Besides, it didn’t prove anything.

  “He wasn’t erratic,” Avery stressed. “Just more—himself. I never guessed he was ill.”

  “Howard is a stubborn man. I know about his condition only because I had to authorize his private nurse care.”

  Several months ago, her judge had added a third secretary who didn’t know how to type. This was the same man who refused to hire the three clerks to whom he was entitled because he “didn’t like being surrounded by too many fools at once when he wasn’t on Capitol Hill.” Putting it together, Avery asked, “Mrs. Lewis?”

  “Yes. Jamie Lewis is a registered nurse.”

  “Matt thought she was his girlfriend,” Avery mumbled, still processing the news. “But I thought she seemed too—” Remembering where she was, and with whom, she closed her teeth on a snap. “Sorry.”

  “Too what?” the Chief Justice prompted, fingers tightening slightly. “What did you think?”

  Avery replied slowly, “That she was too sharp. I mean, insightful. She didn’t think like a lawyer or someone who worked for lawyers, but she had a good ear for politics. And she was always nice, but never too friendly.”

  “Why didn’t you think she was Justice Wynn’s companion?” The question came from Major Vance, the first time he’d broken his silence.

  She shrugged. “He wouldn’t do that. Bring in his girlfriend as an employee. It’s unseemly.”

  “Unseemly.”

  The statement, intended as a question, bore no tone of query. Still, Avery understood the man meant to ask for explanation. Too shaken to resist, she explained, “He despises nepotism, favoritism, and poor utility. Unless his girlfriend was the best legal secretary in the country, he wouldn’t give her a job. Plus, he’d probably break up with her first.”

  With an impenetrable look at the agent, the Chief agreed. “Very discerning.”

  “He’s an honorable man. That’s why everyone got so angry. You can argue with him, but you can never question his logic or his values.” Not the man she knew. The man who now lay in a netherworld, unable to do what he loved most.

  When the silence dragged on, she ventured, “Ma’am, is there something I can do for you? For the Court?”

  Another look passed between the Chief and Major Vance. Avery waited.

  “I know this is a lot to take in at once.” The Chief focused on her, eyes narrowing in decision. “Howard has a special fondness for you.”

  Avery drew her hands free. “What do you mean?”

  A smile curved the Chief’s mouth. “He thinks quite highly of you. Finds you ‘bearably brilliant.’ High praise, indeed, from Howard.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Avery swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. Ducking her head, she blinked back unexpected tears. Twice in one day, she thought dismally. Keep this up, and she’d be a fountain by lunch.

  Justice Wynn would ream her out if he caught— It struck her then. The oddity of it all. “I appreciate you calling me in here, Chief. But why tell me alone? Why not me and Matt together?”

  “Because this concerns you directly.” Major Vance came from the window and stood in front of them, before it ever registered with Avery that he’d moved. He loomed over the two women on the sofa, his hard blue eyes boring into them.

  She’d seen men like him around DC, usually where important people gathered. But his type didn’t frighten her. Massive and deadly existed in darker places than the military. She cocked her head. “What else is there?”

  “Justice Wynn left this for you.” From behind him, he proffered a slim white envelope whose seal had been slit. Major Vance spoke before Avery could protest the breach. “A precaution, Ms. Keene. We had to verify the contents.”

  Knowing how Wynn valued privacy and hated the intrusion of government, Avery was tempted to argue, but curiosity pulled at her. She tipped over the envelope and caught the folded sheets of white in her lap. Lifting the first, she scanned the contents, eyes growing wide with disbelief.

  After a third read-through, she let the pages fall to her lap, and one slithered off to land on the thick red carpet beneath her feet. She turned to the Chief Justice. “You can’t be serious.”

  “It was his wish. Is his wish.”

  Avery struggled to comprehend the contents. “He has a child. A wife. A family. I’m just a clerk. I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do we, Ms. Keene. Which is why we wanted to speak with you,” Major Vance explained. “Did you have any knowledge of these documents?”

  Scooping up the fallen pages, she forced her voice to be polite. “No, I’ve never seen them before.” This had to be a mistake. A colossal misunderstanding. But her legal eye told her the pages were authentic, the decision real. She pivoted back to the Chief. “I didn’t know he was going to do this, I swear.”

  Vance continued, “And you have never had a conversation with Justice Howard Wynn about this? Not even in passing?”

  His incredulity bit at her temper, and she twisted her head to glare at him. “For the last time, no.”

  Avery got to her feet, annoyance supplanting the shock that still trembled her knees. She’d never been more or less than Justice Wynn’s clerk, and she’d be damned if she’d let some Homeland Security thug imply otherwise. In elementary school, she’d beaten up kids for lesser insults.

  She pushed past the agent and crossed to the mahogany-paneled door. Pages clutched tightly, she turned to the Chief, ignoring Vance. “I swear to you, I had no idea that Justice Wynn had given me his power of attorney and named me his legal guardian. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to work.”

  FIVE

  “I’m not finished,” Vance commanded. “Sit down.”

  Remaining stubbornly upright, Avery countered, “I’ve got a memo to write.”

  “This isn’t a request, Ms. Keene.”

  Sensing the rising mutiny, layered over shock, Chief Justice Roseborough intervened. “Avery, Major Vance is doing his job—investigating the circumstances of Justice Wynn assigning you his power of attorney. He intended no insult. Please, sit.”

  Vance restrained a sneer. Intended no insult? Clearly, he’d intended that and more. This girl had complicated what seemed like a godsend to the president—his nemesis on the Supreme Court in a coma. “I have a few more questions, Ms. Keene.”

  Avery held her ground. “I don’t know anything else.”

  “I will decide that.”

  Moving closer, Vance focused on Avery. The girl was taller than he’d expected, nearly six feet tall in the absurd heels women her age wore. More attractive too. Ripe for seduction by a powerful man like Wy
nn. If sex was at the core of this decision, she could be dealt with fairly quickly in the age of social media. “When did you last speak to Justice Wynn?”

  Avery folded her arms obstinately. “Homeland Security has a broad mandate, but I didn’t know it reached inside the Supreme Court.”

  “We go where the questions are. We can continue this conversation here, or I will find more suitable surroundings.”

  Hearing the threat, the Chief said to Avery, “You’ve been given a grave responsibility. Surely you understand why there’d be questions.”

  “Questions, yes. Accusations, no. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Saying nothing, Vance simply watched Avery. The file he’d pulled on her from the National Counterterrorism Center had created more questions than it answered. A useful system, the NCTC retained data about U.S. citizens, drawn from DMV records, flight data, local law enforcement, and even dragnets from cell phone records, casino employee lists, and any information source that could not justify denying Homeland Security access. Under the rubric of antiterrorism, the NCTC analyzed their findings for suspicious patterns of behavior.

  Justice Wynn’s choice of guardian had not been explained by a review of her NCTC file. The records indicated a dead father, a drug-addicted mother, and the hint of a gambling habit. How she’d made it into the Supreme Court after a background check baffled him, but not everyone in government leveraged NCTC to its fullest potential. No doubt Justice Wynn, a libertarian hippie, refused to access the system he’d publicly criticized.

  More than likely, the cursory background check he’d allowed had homed in only on her peripatetic if exemplary educational history and her previous stint as a clerk at the DC Court of Appeals. To Vance, though, her predilections coupled with her new authority moved her high on his list of problems to eliminate.

  “If you’ve done nothing wrong, then you shouldn’t mind answering my questions. Honestly.”

  “Major Vance,” the Chief interjected before Avery could. “Howard’s decision is a shock to everyone, especially Avery. There is no need for this to become hostile.” She turned to her. “Help us figure out what Howard intended.”

  “I don’t know what else to tell you. In two years, the most personal conversation we’ve ever had was about my preference for steak versus shrimp at some boring function. Justice Wynn barely tolerated me. I haven’t a clue why he’d give me his power of attorney.”

  Vance asked, “Do you know his son? His wife?”

  “I’ve met Mrs. Turner-Wynn.” Avery recalled her as a sharp-faced, pencil-thin woman swathed from head to toe in the fashion last decreed to be au courant. A pit viper of a human who’d spent much of the evening abrading her husband, flirting with Matt, and needling Avery. “She and I didn’t have much in common. But I thought they were getting a divorce?”

  “Did he tell you that?” Vance pressed.

  “Justice Wynn told me nothing about his personal life. I read it in the Washington Gazette.” She declined to mention the gossip hotline that ran through the Court. In a cloistered place like this, few secrets were kept, and almost none were kept well. “He never discussed his marriage with me.”

  “What about his son, Jared?”

  “No.” According to the grist, Justice Wynn hadn’t spoken to his son since the death of his first wife. Then-ten-year-old Jared Wynn had been sent to live with his aunt and uncle a week after his mother died. Suddenly a thought occurred, and her head whipped toward the Chief. “Do they know about Justice Wynn?”

  The Chief nodded. “Jared and Celeste will have been notified of Howard’s condition by the doctors.”

  “I should go to the hospital.” Perhaps the doctors could tell her when he’d regain consciousness. She scooted forward, intending to rise, but Vance shifted to block her.

  “Not until we understand exactly what’s going on with this POA. If you head over now, there will be questions.”

  “Like how long I will be his guardian.” Before Vance could respond, she held up a hand. “I know comas are not predictable; but given his condition, they must have some idea of when he’ll be better. When is he expected to wake up?”

  “Avery, right now he’s at Bethesda Naval Hospital, where they are running tests on him. A coma is often the final stage of the disease.” She drew in a breath. “He may not wake up again.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “So you can understand our concern that his law clerk holds his power of attorney.” Vance gave her a steady, cold look. “This would be easier for everyone if you would relinquish your position. Allow his wife to perform her duty.”

  The Chief responded before she could: “According to Howard’s wishes, Avery is his guardian. Not Celeste.”

  “For reasons we cannot verify. Unless Ms. Keene can give us a clearer explanation, we have every reason to suspect this document is a forgery.”

  The Chief stiffened, her chin lifted imperiously. “His reasons should be fairly obvious. Howard is estranged from his son and in the process of divorcing his wife. Clearly, he decided that he required an alternative solution.”

  “Yes, but—”

  She spoke over him, continuing: “As to your suspicion about the validity of this document, Howard Wynn gave this envelope into my keeping on February 11. It has been in my office safe since that time, as per his instructions. You were present when the seal was broken.” She smoothed her unwrinkled skirt with a slow motion, her expression stony. “Are you suggesting I tampered with the document?”

  Vance refused the bait. “No, ma’am. But I would request further clarification before we reveal too much more about Justice Wynn’s condition or she goes to the hospital.”

  “Certainly.” She turned back to Avery. “Think carefully,” the Chief ordered quietly. “Did Howard ever mention his illness to you?”

  “Never.” Ashamed, she admitted, “I didn’t realize he was sick. He’s been the same for the past two years.”

  “Which is?” asked Vance.

  “Smart. Brusque. Caustic.”

  “A jerk,” the Chief interpreted.

  “Yes.” Instantly contrite, she amended, “But he’s also very considerate of his clerks. He’s fair about assignments. Even though he won’t participate in the cert pool, he takes a portion of the cases himself.”

  “You mentioned meeting his wife,” Vance interjected. “Have you spent much time with him out of the office?”

  “At functions, mainly. Like every other clerk in the Court, I go where the free food is. Typically, we glom on to the justices’ invitations. We’re not special enough to rate our own.”

  “What about in smaller groups? Has it ever been the two of you outside the office?”

  “I’ve been to his home three times,” she answered, the white lie coming easily. “And to dinner at a restaurant once.”

  “That’s it?” Vance prodded, hearing something in her response. “Why were you at his house?”

  “Once to drop off a brief he’d left at the office. The second and third times for dinner.”

  “Were you alone?”

  “To drop off the brief, yes. The other times, no. Last year, my fellow clerk Amanda Reyes attended the first dinner party. His wife was absent.”

  “How long were you there? Each event.”

  “I didn’t clock it, but when I dropped off the brief at his house, he stuck his hand out the door, took the folder, and grunted something at me. The second time, for dinner, I’d guess a couple of hours. And dinner this term was only an hour.”

  “Who attended the dinner parties?”

  “He invites both clerks to dinner twice a year. Like I said, it was me and Amanda my first term. No one else. I suppose party is a strong term—he fed us, chatted, and sent us home.”

  “The second one?”

  “Matt Brewer and I attended.”

 
“It was shorter?”

  Avery bit her lip, then shrugged. “It was a disaster. When he kicked us out, Justice Wynn said that he found Matt’s conversation cloying and fawning and that I had the conversational skills of a scullery maid let upstairs.”

  “And no other personal encounters?”

  “When the session starts, we have dinner at his house; and at the end, he swings for a fancy dinner in a restaurant we can’t possibly afford. His secretary made reservations at Vieux Marché for June thirtieth, the end of term this year.” Avery turned to the Chief as a new thought occurred. “What happens if he doesn’t wake up?”

  “We can discuss that later,” the Chief cautioned. “Major Vance, do you have any more questions for her?”

  “You’ve never been alone with Justice Wynn outside the office? For more than a brief visit?”

  “Ask me straight out, Major Vance. You want to know if I’ve slept with him.”

  “Yes, Ms. Keene. I’d like to know if you’ve had a sexual relationship with Justice Wynn. Prior to joining the Court or since.”

  Rising again, Avery carefully folded the pages in her hand and crossed to the door. This time, when her hand closed on the brass handle, the rage was steady and cool. She’d been a lot of things in her life, some legal, some questionable, most of the latter courtesy of Rita Keene. But never in her life had she been a whore.

  When she was sure she could, she turned to speak to both of the room’s occupants.

  “I am a piece of furniture to Howard Wynn. A very handy typewriter with the ability to read. I come into the office at seven a.m., read cert petitions that will never be heard, draft legal memoranda on obscure points of law no one really cares about. I draft opinions he tears to shreds, and then I write them again and again. When invited, I go to dinner. When I’m not here, I go to sleep.

  “This job doesn’t allow for a social life or much else. Howard Wynn has been the bane of my existence and my constant critic. He has been my boss and my mentor. But I am not his friend or his confidante or his lover. I am his clerk.”

  “And now, according to those papers, you’re his guardian.” Chief Roseborough stood as well. “Go back to your office, Avery. Major Vance and I need to clear up a few more things; then we’ll discuss you going over to the hospital.”