‘So, you ready?’ said David.
The question wasn’t meant for me. It was directed toward the other passenger, in the seat beside me. He didn’t answer. He just stared out the window.
David and I talked a little during the drive, and Holly told me all about their plans for a romantic weekend away – their first. The other passenger never spoke. After an hour, when we were well into upstate New York, we fell into silence as we approached our destination. Holly and David were very much in love. It was nice to see, but it made me ache. Christine and Amy were staying at Christine’s parents’ house. I’d seen them both, briefly, once I got out of the hospital. We’d agreed to meet in the park.
I’d watched Amy on the swing. Christine and I sat on the grass in the little park close to her parents’ house. After a while I purposefully tuned out Christine and watched my daughter. I didn’t want to hear what she was saying. She said there was something about me that brought danger to our lives, that somehow, as long as I was in the law, I would attract bad men. And bad things would happen, whether I wanted to do the right thing or not.
Christine and Amy would live with her parents in the Hamptons. Amy would change schools. I could see Amy once a month, at their house. No more. Not for a while. Not until Christine was sure they would be safe. I tuned out again and stared at Amy.
‘So what do you think?’ said Christine.
‘I’m sorry?’ I said.
‘You haven’t really been listening, have you? I said how would you feel if we tried things again in six months?’
‘You mean us?’
‘Yes, I mean us.’
The creak of the swing drew my eyes to Amy again. She was getting taller. Her feet were dragging on the ground on every low point of the swing. I’d taken her to this same park the year before and her feet couldn’t touch the ground then. I thought about finding a bloodied seventeen-year-old girl in my client’s house, not a mile from here; I thought about David, fighting for air in the courthouse conference room as he begged me to help him; I thought about Christine, that moment in Harland and Sinton before I got her out.
‘I can’t. I love you both too much,’ I said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Bad things happen around me. Maybe I let them happen. I don’t know, Christine. I can’t take the risk that something might happen to you or Amy. I don’t want to put distance between us, and I want to watch my little girl grow up. But it’s more important that she gets the chance to grow up and be with you. Whatever has happened to me, whatever’s happened to us, I can’t change that. All I can do is make sure that I don’t do any more harm than I’ve done already.’
‘Eddie, it’s not forever. I want to try again when things have calmed down. It’s your job; it’s not you. I thought you could think about winding down the rough cases, maybe even trying a new career. And hey, I’m not blameless here either. What happened with the firm wasn’t your fault.’
‘You’re wrong. Dell told me I was the target, not you. They wanted to use me to get to David. You were leverage to them, nothing more. I can’t expose you or Amy to that risk. As things stand, I’m a dead man. That facade won’t last for long. I can spend the weekend here, but I need to go back.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I have to. I can’t really explain it, but I need this. I need to work. I can help people. David reminded me of that.’
‘There are other lawyers …’
‘I know, but most of them are probably like I was before I pulled Hanna Tublowski out of that house. If I’m not there, who’ll pull out the next girl?’
She dragged herself close to me, rested her head on my shoulder.
I was going to be on my own. For the good of my family. That made me think about what kind of a man I was, that my family was better off without me – without the hustler, the lawyer, the con man.
Holly made a left and drove along a narrow gravel path that led to a large mansion, set in acres of open green fields.
We pulled up outside the house. Several men were waiting outside, dressed in white hospital uniforms. I got out of the car, walked around, and opened the other passenger door. The low morning sun blazed into the car. This place wasn’t advertised on the Internet, or anywhere else for that matter. Maybe a hundred doctors in the whole country knew of its existence. As far as I knew, the house didn’t even have a name. Rock stars, movie stars, the überwealthy came here to get clean.
Popo wept as he got out of the Range Rover. He was shaking, and his lips were cut and bleeding. I told him to stop biting his lips. David and Holly joined us.
‘You’ll stay here until you’re better. Until you’re clean,’ said David. ‘And when you’re clean, you come see me, and I’ll make sure you have a job at Reeler.’
‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,’ said Popo.
‘You don’t need to say anything. You saved my life. Whatever I can do to save yours, you got it,’ said David.
I knew Popo would make it. He’d been given a chance to turn his life around, to become another version of himself, a better version, a stronger version, a purer version. A chance to get back to who he really was.
I hoped I would get the same chance someday.
We waved goodbye to Popo and got back into the Range Rover.
‘Okay, now to business,’ I said. ‘You can drop me off at Hogan Place.’
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
‘Dead man walking,’ said Zader, as I closed the door to his office in 1 Hogan Place.
I took a seat and admired the headlines in the newspapers he’d spread out in front of him. Most of them were speculating on his next move in the David Child case and when the grand jury would hear the evidence. The DA looked tired; his eyes were heavy and his collar was undone.
‘So, think your client will be ready to face the grand jury next week?’ he said.
I opened my bag, removed the three envelopes, and set them on top of the papers.
‘Say, can I get a drink?’ I said.
He converted a sneer into a half smile and pressed a button on his desk phone.
‘Miriam, two coffees, please. Oh, sorry, cancel that. One coffee for me, and see if you can rustle up a scotch for Mr Flynn. He looks like he could use it.’
‘I don’t drink anymore,’ I said. ‘But you knew that.’
‘Miriam?’ said Zader into the intercom. ‘Miriam, are you there?’
‘Maybe she’s picking up your dry cleaning?’ I said.
He leaned back in his leather chair and said, ‘We’re going with your client as an accomplice to the murder. It’s not the full beans, but …’
I could see his eyes focus on something behind me, which cut him off in full flow. Miriam entered his office with two coffees on a plastic tray. She placed one coffee in front of me and the other beside it. She pulled up a seat and took the second cup of coffee for herself.
‘Cream and sugar?’ she asked me.
‘Thanks,’ I said.
Zader stared at both of us.
‘There isn’t going to be a grand jury,’ I said, picking up the first envelope and tossing it to Zader. He opened it, began to read the two-page document, and was about to say something pithy when I cut him off.
‘The Justice Department, the State Department, and the Treasury want the whole David Child case to go away quietly. It’s too messy for them. I can’t tell you why, but I’m sure you already know this; somebody on high has probably already had the same conversation with you. I’ll save you the trouble of reading this for now. It’s a press statement that your office is releasing this afternoon. It confirms that as a result of your extensive inquiries, David Child is innocent of all charges in relation to the murder of Clara Reece. It hasn’t been released yet, but Clara didn’t actually exist. The dead girl in David’s apartment is Samantha Harland, matching tattoos and all. There’s a full public apology to David Child, which I want you to read out, on camera. You’ll notice this statement is drafted by the Justice
Department. They’re sending you a clear message to make this go away – you mess this up, you’re making an enemy of the US government.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding me if you think I’m going to be pressured into—’
‘You put pressure on innocent defendants to plead guilty to crimes they didn’t commit. You do this every day of the week by dangling plea agreements in front of them. Take five years on a plea, or fight the case and risk a twenty-year stretch. This is what it’s like, this pressure. Open this …’ I said, handing him the second envelope.
This was a bulky package, and he tipped the contents onto his desk. He saw photographs of dry-cleaning receipts, e-mails ordering Miriam to reduce her caseload by handing her most serious cases to junior ADAs. There were video stills of Miriam bringing him coffee, cleaning his office, vacuuming the carpets, washing the coffee cups. In among the photos and e-mails were also several microcassettes with recordings of Zader’s juiciest sexist remarks.
‘When you ran against Miriam for district attorney, you gave an interview stating how much you admired her skills as a lawyer and how honored you would feel if she agreed to stay on as a senior prosecutor in the event of your victory in the election. Yet there’s a mountain of evidence here to show you’ve treated her like shit. And you’ve done it because she’s a woman. The tapes are particularly good. My favorite is the conversation you had with Miriam three weeks ago, where you tell her female trial attorneys will always be beaten by male attorneys in court because men are more credible. Nice. I’m thinking that statement alone is good for a hundred grand from the jury.’
Miriam smiled at him.
‘Miriam, this is outrageous. If I’ve treated you poorly, it’s simply because you were my opposition. I would’ve done the same thing if you were a man,’ said Zader.
‘That’s a great defense,’ I said. ‘Your Honor, I didn’t harass Ms Sullivan because she’s a woman. I demeaned her simply because I’m an asshole, and I would’ve done the same thing to a man.’
I heard Miriam tutting.
‘You’ll also find, in that pile, two documents that you will need to read. The first is the copy of my draft sexual harassment suit, for my client, which I’ll file this afternoon if you don’t sign the agreement right now.’
‘What agreement?’ said Zader.
I found the agreement on his desk, handed it to him.
‘The highlights are that you will resign first thing tomorrow morning. You can say it’s for personal reasons and you’ll give your full backing to Miriam Sullivan, whom you’re appointing as acting district attorney until a new election can be called. If you refuse to call the press conference for David, or if you refuse to sign this agreement, I’ll file suit for Miriam, she’ll win, and your career will be over. This way you get to walk out of here without a court judgment against you.’
His gaze flickered between the photographs and the agreement. A drop of sweat hit the desk, and he wiped at his forehead, pulled at his tie even though it was already loose.
‘I’ll fight this the whole way. You think you’ve won, but you’re wrong. I don’t scare easy.’
I turned toward Miriam and said, ‘You were right. He is stupid.’
‘Told you we’d need more,’ said Miriam.
‘You called it. You do the honors,’ I said.
From her inside jacket pocket, Miriam produced two pages and handed them to Zader without another word. The first page was an affidavit sworn by Assistant District Attorney Billy White. He stated that he had been asked by Zader to contact a private investigator in order to obtain confidential, and highly sensitive, personal and financial information on every single judge in New York. The private stock information Zader had used to get rid of Judge Perry was already in his possession when the case began, and he didn’t bring it up until it looked like Perry was going to find for the defense. This alone would be enough to launch a state inquiry into prosecutorial misconduct, but the fact that he’d illegally obtained personal information and built dossiers on every judge would end his career in a heartbeat and probably send him to jail. The second page was clearly labeled as a draft e-mail. It was addressed to the FBI and the current governor. The e-mail listed Billy White’s affidavit as a single attachment. The draft e-mail was just as good as pulling back the hammer on a pistol and holding it to Zader’s temple.
‘You can’t be a felon and a DA. Mayor maybe?’ I said.
‘You’re a bastard, you know that?’ he said. ‘I can’t possibly call a press conference today. It would take …’
‘The press are already in the briefing room,’ said Miriam. ‘I took the liberty of calling them. You want me to hit send on that e-mail?’
He shook his head. I ignored him and waited.
He spotted the last envelope, sitting unopened before me.
‘What’s in that?’
‘That’s option B,’ I said.
He held out his quivering hand. I gave him the envelope, drained my coffee, and stood. I buttoned my jacket and said to Miriam, ‘It’s good to have you back.’
She smiled.
Zader ripped open the envelope just as his office door closed behind me. Silence. Then I heard Miriam’s stern tones. Before I left the open-plan office, I waited for a spell at the coffee machine. I’d left because this was Miriam’s victory. She left Zader’s office, caught my eye, smiled, and gave me an excited thumbs-up. The signed agreement and press release were in her hands. In the third envelope, I’d given Zader the same option he’d given David Child – the envelope was empty.
I stepped into the elevator, waved goodbye to Herb Goldman on the reception desk, and hit the button for the ground floor. Zader appeared at Herb’s desk, watching me leave with a look of utter contempt on his face. His skin shone under the lights; fear and hate danced in bulbs of sweat. He slapped Herb’s desk and swore at me.
I said nothing.
Herb’s keen eyes passed over both of us, and he chuckled to himself. Somehow Herb knew that he’d soon be serving under yet another new district attorney.
The elevator doors began to close. Before they shut, I heard Herb offer some final advice to the departing DA.
‘You know what they say, Mr Zader,’ said Herb. ‘You can’t hustle a hustler.’
Acknowledgments
There are an enormous number of people to thank. First on the list is my wife, Tracy, who is a constant source of great ideas, insights, support, inspiration and gingerbread lattes. I owe her more than I can ever say.
My agent, Euan Thorneycroft, and all at AM Heath for their support, advice and expert representation.
My editors, Jemima Forrester at Orion Books and Christine Kopprasch at Flatiron Books, for their patience, expertise, and dedication to making this novel the best that it could be. Also huge thanks to Jon Wood, Angela McMahon, Graeme Williams and everyone at Orion Books and Hachette Ireland. Also huge thanks to my US team, Amy Einhorn and Marlena Bittner at Flatiron.
My family, friends, readers, everyone who has reviewed the books and especially the booksellers that have championed me from day one – I owe you all a pint and a hug.
Also by Steve Cavanagh
The Defence
The Cross (novella)
Copyright
AN ORION EBOOK
First published in Great Britain in 2016 by Orion Books
This ebook first published in 2016 by Orion Books
Copyright © Steve Cavanagh 2016
The right of Steve Cavanagh to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All the characters in this book, with the exception of those already in the public domain, are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise c
irculated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 1 4091 5236 1
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Table of Contents
Dedication
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Part One: The Setup
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Eddie Flynn 02-The Plea Page 37