Page 135 of Goodbye Girl
“Thank you, Your Honor,” said Jack, and the call ended.
Leon was still at the table, willing to talk, and the waitress had just delivered two more beers. Their conversation was not yet over, but the first thing Jack had to do was call his client. Jack dialed her number.
“Any news?” Imani asked, and Jack could hear the eagerness in her voice.
“Yes. I have some very good news,” he said, glancing one more time in the direction of the victim’s cousin. “Good news for you, that is.”
Chapter 54
News of Judge Cookson’s ruling went viral in a matter of hours.
Imani’s publicity machine immediately sprang into action to make#ImaniInnocentthe number-one trending hashtag in the world. By 8:00 p.m., a prerecorded video thanking fans for their “undying love and support” had millions of views. It outpaced even “Baby Shark Dance” for one night, thanks to shares by everyone from a Disney child star with 289 million followers, to a fortysomething pop star who tweeted, “SheIsThat Innocent!” Imani was booked solid on cable news from 7:00 p.m. to midnight, hopping from one show to the next in brief, remote interviews. By design, the appearances were without Jack. The last thing Imani’s handlers wanted was the lawyers and legal experts breaking down the evidence against Imani. The idea was to get Imani out there answering the questions that really mattered, like, “How excited are you to have this behind you?” and, “How soon till you start recording your next album?”
There was one sobering asterisk to all of it: the pirate killer was still out there. Jack woke Tuesday morning with that thought weighing on his mind. And thoughts of Andie.
“When’s Mommy coming home?” asked Righley.
Jack was standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing the breakfast dishes. “I’m not sure. Maybe today.”
Righley handed up her empty plate, puzzled. “She doesn’t tell you when she’s coming home?”
It was a seven-year-old’s twist on her uncle Theo’s line.That’sfuckedup, Jack.
“Mommy tells me what she can, honey. That’s how it works.”
Or doesn’t.
They were out the door by 7:30 a.m. Jack dropped Righley at school and drove to the airport. His flight was to Jacksonville, where he rented a car and followed the tree-lined highways of rural northeast Florida into Union County. The destination was the town of Raiford, population 255, not counting inmates. He had business at Florida State Prison.
Just before noon, he found a space in the visitors’ parking lot. Before getting out of the car, he tried Andie on her cell. It went straight to voicemail, so he left a message.
“Hey, it’s me. I’ve been thinking about what you said—that it doesn’t work anymore. But maybe it’s just like everything else. It works some of the time, but not all the time. When it does work, it works magic.” He paused, kind of regretting what he’d just said. “Okay, that was corny. What I’m trying to say is that sometimes it could be an advantage for an FBI agent to be married to a criminal defense lawyer. Anyway, this message is already going too long. Can we talk about it? Come home soon.”
Jack put his phone away, climbed out of the car, and walked to the visitors’ entrance, where he checked in with the corrections officer in the lobby.
“I’m here to see Douglas Paxton,” said Jack, and he added the inmate number.
The guard checked the computer screen. “I see you were here last month for a deposition.”
Jack showed him his Florida Bar card. “I’m an attorney.”
“But are youPaxton’sattorney?”
“Not yet.”
“Then you need to go to general visitation and talk through the glass, like everybody else. The phones will be monitored.”
“Here’s the deal,” said Jack. “Mr. Paxton has a parole hearing coming up soon. He should be represented by counsel. I’ve come to offer my services, free of charge. Tell him this is a one-time offer that I will revoke unless he meets with me today, before the close of visitation hours, and accepts in person.”
“I’ll convey the message,” the guard said.
“Please do. I don’t think FSP needs any more publicity about interfering with an inmate’s right to counsel.”
Jack was referring to FSP’s long-running controversy over guards listening to phone conversations between lawyers and inmates who complained about prison conditions.
“Got it,” said the guard. “But even if Paxton makes you his lawyer, it will be at least an hour before I can get him over here to meet with you.”
Jack’s day was wide open, having cleared his calendar for the trial that had ended unexpectedly. “I’ll wait,” he said.