by Leigh James
“You’re really willing to just let him go?” I asked, wrinkling my nose at him. “‘Cause when we put it all out there, I really see what a horrible guy he is. He could get convicted of any one of the things we just talked about and he would go to jail for a long time. Don’t you think he should?”
Walker shrugged. “I gave him my word. Plus, I still don’t think Lester is bad, through and through. He’s an asshole, and a misogynist….” he grinned at me here, knowing that his use of the word correctly meant a lot to me and would to his sister, too…. “But I don’t think he’s inherently dangerous. You know what I mean? Let Lester Max loose in the world, the world is a shadier, greedier, more discriminatory place. But I don’t think he’ll kill anybody. He might just get divorced a couple more times.”
“Maybe April can keep him in line,” I said.
“She sure was mad at you,” Walker said, and laughed.
“She can get in line right behind Alexa,” I said, shaking my head, remembering how furious she’d been with me earlier this morning. “I’m not sure which one of them has it worse. April has to pretend she’s shacking up with Lester, but Alexa has to try to get on Linda’s computer and steal a bunch of files. I’m not sure how she’s going to do it.”
“She comes from a family of politicians,” Walker said. “She’ll figure something out.”
He paused for a beat and patted my thigh. “How are you doing?” he asked. “Lester told us all sorts of awful stuff and you haven’t said much. Are you surprised?”
“You mean, about my firm?” I asked him. “Yes. I am. I’m actually shocked, if you can believe it. But I never would have expected that David and Norris would play so dirty. I’m ashamed, too — you know, that they picked me for your case (a) because I was mousy and you wouldn’t have bothered trying to sleep with me and (b) because I come from nothing, they knew how much debt I’m in and thought that it would buy them some loyalty from me. As opposed to Alexa, Mandy or Andrew, who come from families with some money and have something to fall back on.
“I swear to God, Norris Phaland thought I had loose morals because my father is a janitor,” I said, rolling my eyes but feeling suddenly, powerfully angry. “Can you believe some people?”
“No,” Walker said. “I can’t. But someone like Norris — he only has what he has because of who he is. What family he was born into, what family he married into.”
“So you know about that? That he married Mr. Buchanan’s daughter? And that’s why he’s with the firm?” I asked. I didn't remember mentioning it.
“Everybody knows that,” Walker said. “I think it’s part of why he’s such an ass. He has a chip on his shoulder because he probably knows, or thinks, that people don’t respect him. I wouldn’t think that was true, except that he doesn’t have a great reputation as a lawyer.”
“People just mostly avoid him,” I said, “even at the firm. It was like he was tolerated, a necessary….” I let my voice trail off.
“Evil?” Walker asked. “There’s probably some truth to that.”
“I never really saw him interacting with clients, or going to court,” I said, “but the partners were mostly all like that. Secretive. Wanting to keep their business to themselves, except for the work they assigned to us. No one ever wanted their billables taken away. Everybody had to show that they were billing enough to earn their keep.”
“Well, maybe Norris didn’t do that, so he felt even more threatened when this thing blew up,” Walker said. “Maybe he was worried that if the firm got implicated, he was going to lose everything. And because he was getting away with not pulling his own weight for so long, he knew that he didn’t have anywhere else he could go.”
“Can you imagine killing for something like that?” I asked, and shivered. “So you could keep up your gilded cage that you hadn’t really earned in the first place?”
“Well, what about David Proctor?” Walker scoffed. “He’s been practicing law for thirty years. He’s a great attorney. He’s worked hard to get where he is today. And he risked all of that — everything that he’s worked for — just to cover up that first mistake in judgment. A costly mistake, to be sure, but still.”
“If the Board of Bar Overseers found out that they were co-mingling client funds with their own money, he might have gotten disbarred,” I said, still not understanding David’s motives. “The firm would have had to pay a huge fine, and it would have been a scandal. His reputation would take a hit, but the firm would still have clients. Even if David got disbarred, he still must have so much money that it doesn’t matter.
“Don’t count on it,” Walker said. “Look at Lester Max. He’s been making more money than ninety-nine percent of Americans for most of his adult life. You know why he wanted more money?” Walker asked. I shook my head, no. “Because he’s in debt up to his eyeballs,” Walker said. “He has three mortgages on three homes, a car payment, alimony, child support, credit card bills. His expenses rose to meet his income, fast. He got used to the lifestyle without being prudent. He wanted it all, and he wanted it all now. Maybe David was like that, too. Maybe he’s been living above his means for a while.”
“Or maybe he just couldn’t face being caught,” I said. “It’s one thing to co-mingle funds. It’s another thing to find out the charges against your client are fabricated, and then to play along.” I looked out at the stormy weather, struggling to come to terms with what David had done. He’d sold his client out for the promise of money. Probably, for the promise of lots of money.
“I can’t believe he’d be that greedy,” I said. “So greedy that it trumped doing the right thing. He was going to let you be sent away to jail, to do time for crimes you didn’t commit, just so he could save his reputation and make extra money. When he already makes more money than he can count.”
“Greed does crazy things to people,” Walker said. “I’ve seen it over and over again. But what people don’t understand is, you can’t take it with you. You can have all the money in the world, but when you’re number’s up, it’s up — just like everybody else.”
I sighed and watched the churning water; it looked like the wind was picking up. It was still hurricane season here in Florida. I hoped that this would just evolve into a bad storm and then go away, without turning into something deadly and dangerous.
“He must have thought that because the government was involved, it was airtight. The government wanted your company and they’d brought a false, but a falsely airtight case against you. He’d done something wrong to begin with, then he was tricked into being implicated, but once he was, he decided to do anything to protect his decision. Including sell me out,” I said, and I felt my face getting hot. “I can’t believe that everyone thinks I did those things. That I killed those people.”
“The people who know you won’t believe it, Nicole. No one who knows you could ever think you’d be capable of something horrible like that.”
“I still can’t believe they’d do it,” I said, thinking specifically of David. “Maybe Norris arranged it.” That was what I wanted to believe: that creepy, sociopathic Norris Phaland was the one pulling the strings, that he’d gone ahead and arranged for these people to die and used my credit card information to make me look guilty all on his own, without David Proctor’s knowledge or approval.
But then I remember the last time I saw David. All the money he offered me. Everything he said about how the firm was protecting Walker’s assets, and that everything was above-board. What he said about taking care of my family.
And then he’d handed me that motion. And smoothly told me there was a car waiting for me downstairs.
“Why didn’t they try to kill you, too?” I whispered.
“Because they needed a body to be held responsible,” he said. “They still needed a face for the crimes they were prosecuting. If they could still put me through trial and have me convicted, it would make them look even better, Nic. No one would suspect them. Every loose end would be tied up.
“I’ll give them a loose end,” I said, my brow furrowed.
“I know you will,” Walker said, soothingly. “We’re gonna give them some loose ends they’ll never forget.”
* * *
Before we went to bed that night, I called Mimi Johnstone.
“Hello?” She answered the phone warily, like most people with a call from a private number; maybe she was worried it was bad news from her gynecologist, or something.
“Mimi — it’s Nicole,” I said, almost breathless.
“Oh. Wow,” she said. She sounded shocked.
“Are you alone?” I asked.
“I’m home. Matt’s in the next room,” she said, and she sounded like she’d recovered.
“Is there any chance this conversation is being overheard? Any chance your apartment’s been compromised?” I asked.
“Well, I probably wouldn’t know if it had been,” she said, and I noticed that she was choosing her words carefully, using a neutral tone, and that she hadn’t said my name.
“Is this safe?” I asked. “Just yes or no.”
“Yes,” Mimi said, “at least I think so.”
“Can I trust you?” I asked. I felt guilty, but I asked anyway. I had to.
“Of course you can,” she said, and for the first time she let some warmth creep into her voice. I could sense that she wanted to say something more, but she didn’t dare.
“I didn’t set off that bomb,” I said, rushing to get it all out. “And Walker’s innocent, Mimi, I swear to you. We’ve been set up. And it’s bad. Really bad.” I took a shaky breath and continued. “I’m not going to tell you more than that, because it’s not safe for you. It’s probably not safe that I even called you, so watch your back.”
The weight of even more guilt pushed down on me, threatening to crush me from above. All the people I loved were in danger.
“I know I’m asking for too much, but I need you to get in touch with my father. And Walker’s sister, Adrian. Get a pen and I’ll give you their cellphone numbers.”
I heard her rustling around and then I gave her the information. “Got it,” Mimi said. “But is that…okay for me to do?” she asked, struggling to find a neutral substitute for words like stupid, dangerous, and deadly.
“I’m sure they’re being watched. So not really,” I said. “I was thinking you could get a TracFone and call them. So your number won’t be traceable. They’re probably being bugged, though. So you can’t use your name, you can’t give any details. Just tell them the people they’re missing are innocent, and that they’re okay. Can you do that for me? Will you?”
“Of course I will,” Mimi said.
“I’m sorry to involve you. I didn’t have anyone left that I trust.”
“I’m just happy to know that you’re okay,” Mimi said.
“I wish I could say more,” I said.
“Me too.”
I hung up, brushed my teeth and briefly looked at myself in the mirror. My short blond hair was growing out, a little; dark roots had formed at the top, making my hair look like I hadn’t washed it. I hadn’t realized how much upkeep was involved in being a blonde; I mentally gave credit to all those women who made it look easy. I hadn’t realized what a commitment it was.
Walker was already in bed, his light on, reading the same thriller. He was almost done.
“How’d it go with Mimi?” he said, patting the bed next to him. I sat down, gratefully, and pulled the comforter up to my chin. With the air conditioning on, it was cold enough that I could almost pretend we were back in New England.
“She chose her words very carefully, so even if she’s bugged, they might not suspect anything,” I said. “She said she’d do it. She’s going to call Adrian and my dad from a TracFone, just to tell them we’re okay.
“What’s our long-term plan with them?” I asked, turning to him.
“What do you want it to be?” he asked, putting the open book down on his chest.
“I can’t say goodbye to my family, not forever,” I said. “First of all, my dad needs me. He needs my help financially, and he needs my help with my brothers. They’re getting ready to go to college, and college is my thing, not my dad’s.
“Second of all,” I said, “They’re my family — they’re all I have. You and them. That’s it. I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t say goodbye.”
Walker pulled me to him, the book getting crushed between us. “It’s okay,” he said. “I couldn’t say goodbye to Adrian, either. Not ever. I know exactly what you mean.”
“So what’re we gonna do?” I asked.
He patted my hair. “We are going to rescue them from a lifetime without us.”
“How?” I asked.
“I’ll let you know when I figure it out. But I promise you, I will,” he said. He picked his book back up and patted my pillow. I laid down next to him, watching him read, my mind swirling once again.
“How’s the book?”
“Good,” Walker said. “We’re about to get to the most exciting part.”
Chapter 22
I went out by myself the next day, first thing, and bought a printer at a big-box store off-island. I wore a hat and my sunglasses, even in the store; I was sweating the whole time. I’d refused to let Walker come with me, citing his eminent recognizability, even with the addition of his tattoo. He wasn’t happy, but I wasn’t budging, and we needed the supplies today. We had to be ready. I bought a laser printer, paper, ink, large manila envelopes, a pretty pink pen and some Post-it notes. And I couldn’t resist buying color-coded tabs. The associate in me was going to be tough to leave behind.
I drove carefully, watching for cars in my rearview mirror. I thought I saw several suspicious ones, but then everything looked suspicious to me, including the overcast sky. It was like the weather was conspiring against us, making the world seem dark and gloomy.
I pulled down the road to our condominium complex, the beach road, when I noticed that there was, in fact, a car behind me. Silver sedan, Florida plates. I was driving slowly but it was slower. I pulled over to the side of the road and put my hazards on. I reached into my pocketbook and put my hand on my revolver, my hand slick with sweat.
I watched the car in the rearview mirror. It slowed down further and then turned off on a residential side street, vanishing from my sight. Knowing that Walker would be livid with me, I backed up and followed it, turning off my hazards. I moved my purse right next to me, so I could grab the gun again if I needed it.
There were no cars on the street now, where the sedan had turned off. All I could see were the large Banyan trees that lined the drive on either side, their enormous, banana-shaped leaves on the ground beneath them. I drove slowly, checking each driveway, but the silver car was gone.
My head was pounding as I drove around the block, still looking. All I saw were a few people out in tennis whites walking to the tiny downtown area for breakfast and a couple of trucks with casting poles in the beds, heading towards South Beach.
Disappeared. The car was hiding from me. It had to be.
I hit the gas and drove the stolen Benz, too fast, all the way back to the condo. I saw no one on the road. I ran up the stairs; only some of our senior neighbors were power-walking the beach; one of them, who had to be in his mid-seventies, was running with big headphones on.
I threw myself through the door. Walker looked up sharply from the computer and rushed over to me. “Are you okay?”
“Are you?” I asked, walking around him, looking out the window to the beach and then back to the door, where I peered through the side windows to the car below.
“What happened?” Walker asked, his hands splayed open, like he was trying to keep calm.
“I’m pretty sure somebody followed me,” I said, nervously pacing around, continuing to check the windows. “A silver sedan. I noticed it on the beach road when I drove down here a couple of minutes ago. I pulled over to watch it and it turned off; I tried to follow it but disappeared.”
“Banyan,” I said, “but he must have pulled into a driveway, or something. I didn’t see him anywhere.”
“Did you get everything we need?” Walker asked.
“Yes,” I said, the throbbing in my head slowing down, a little. “But I don’t think we can go back out there.”
“No. Especially not you.” He paced around for a moment then grabbed the keys from me. “I’ll go get the stuff out of the car. But from now on, we’re going to have to use an errand person to get us food and anything else we need. We have to stay out of sight.” He looked at me. “No more separation. The furthest you go away from me is one room. Okay?” he asked.
“Okay,” I said. The car had spooked me. It seemed as though our brief period of anonymity had come to an abrupt end.
* * *
I called Alexa at lunchtime. True to her usual form, she was completely fucking pissed at me.
“This is ridiculous,” she hissed through the phone. I could tell from the noise in the background that she was out on the street and it was crowded; it was probably a beautiful early-fall day in Boston, and people were out taking advantage of the nice weather while it lasted.
“How am I supposed to get on Linda’s computer? She’s always there, in her stupid pearls, glaring at everyone.” I could practically hear Alexa’s high heels clicking on the sidewalk. She sounded out of breath, like she’d been out stomping around, about to have a temper tantrum.
“I want out, Nicole,” she said. “Find somebody else to do your dirty work.”
“Can you please not use my name?” I hissed back at her. Had she been within reach, I would’ve finally broken down and smacked her. “Use that Harvard-educated brain, for once!”
“Don’t you start,” she said, menacingly, and I could tell we were about to devolve into a shouting match.
