Page 5 of Grave Danger
“It’s not healthy for two career-oriented people to muzzle themselves in that way,” said Dr. Stanger. “I honestly don’t know how you two have managed to stay together this long.”
“Till death do us part,” said Jack.
“Oh, give me a break, Jack. You’ve already been divorced once.”
“She wasn’t ‘The One.’”
Dr. Stanger laid her pen on her notepad, as if they’d finally made a breakthrough. “If Andie is ‘The One,’ Jack, does that mean you’re open to dropping the Rule?”
“I suppose that’s better than dropping my career.”
“I’m not asking you to drop—”
Dr. Stanger raised her hand like a traffic cop, stopping Andie in midsentence. “Andie, how about you? Are you willing to drop the Rule?”
Andie considered it, then spoke. “I’m open to it. But I have a condition.”
“Go ahead,” said Dr. Stanger.
Andie looked at Jack, then back at the counselor. “I want Jack to at least cut back on the criminal defense work. And not just a little.”
Silence. Again, Dr. Stanger broke it.
“The ball is in your court, Counselor.”
Jack breathed in and out. “You know, ninety-nine percent of civil cases never go to trial. They settle. And if you ask any mediator what’s the best way to tell if a settlement is ‘fair,’ he’ll tell you it’s when neither side is happy.”
“What are you saying?” asked Dr. Stanger.
Jack reached across the divide between the two wing chairs and took Andie’s hand. “I’m saying yes. We drop the Rule. And I’ll cut back on my criminal defense work.”
“A lot,” said Andie.
Jack swallowed hard. “Okay. A lot.”
Biscayne Bay was black as night. As flashes of moonlight broke through the clouds, starlike twinkles rippled across the gentle waves beyond theseawall. Jack sat alone on the dock behind his house, keeping his buyer’s remorse to himself. A lamp glowed in the window of the corner bedroom, where Andie was putting their daughter, Righley, to bed.
Criminal defense defined Jack as a lawyer. His first job out of law school had been with the Freedom Institute, where he spent four years defending death row inmates. He’d moved on from the institute by the time he met Andie, but his practice was still overwhelmingly criminal defense, and the occasional innocent client didn’t stop her from asking, like everyone else, “How do you sleep at night knowing your client was guilty?” Truth was, Jack lost much more sleep defending the innocent, when his client faced prosecution for a crime someone else had committed. Too many ofthosecases would put any lawyer on the road to burnout. Over the years Jack had incorporated a few high-stakes civil lawsuits into his practice, mostly plaintiff’s work that paid well enough to let him put something away for Righley’s college fund and, even further off in the future, a comfortable retirement for him and Andie. The tension between Andie’s career at the FBI and Jack’s criminal defense practice was real, not imagined, and Jack understood her frustration. But there was no denying that what got Jack out of bed each morning and put a spring in his step was a trip to the criminal courthouse.
Jack’s cell phone rang. He answered, and his father jumped straight to the point of his call.
“Hey, son, I hear you’re finally coming over from the dark side.”
A cop turned politician, Harry Swyteck had served two terms as the “law and order” governor of Florida. In his first term alone, he’d signed more death warrants than any governor in Florida’s history, several for Jack’s clients—including one who was innocent. Now one of Jack’s closest friends, Theo Knight still walked this earth only because his lawyer wouldn’t give up.
A seagull swept past Jack. “It sounds like you talked to Andie.”
“Just got off the phone with her. Told me you’re cutting back on your criminal practice. Way back.”
“Did she tell you it was her idea?”
“She did.”
Jack stepped to the edge of the dock, the waves splashing rhythmically below. “I suppose the two of you must be very happy.”
“Not really.”
“Oh, come off it. The heartburn I give Andie as an FBI agent doesn’t begin to compare to the political damage I did to you as governor.”