"Say what's on your mind, Tracy."
"I'm just . . . That was a good offer."
Reynolds cocked his head to one side and studied his associate like a professor conducting an oral examination.
"You think I should advise Mrs. Griffen to accept it?"
"I don't think you should reject it out of hand. I can't help remembering what you told me in Atlanta."
"And what was that?"
"When I asked you why you accepted the plea bargain for Joel Livingstone, you said that the objective in every death penalty case was to save our client's life, not to get a not-guilty verdict."
Reynolds smiled. "I'm pleased to see you've learned that lesson."
"Then why won't you advise Mrs. Griffen to take this offer?"
"That's simple. Joel Livingstone murdered Mary Harding.
There was no question of his guilt. Abigail Griffen is innocent of the murder of Robert Griffen. I have never advised an innocent person to plead guilty."
"How can you know she's innocent?"
"She's told me she's innocent and until she tells me otherwise, I will continue to believe in her innocence."
Tracy took a deep breath. She was afraid to ask the next question and afraid not to.
"Mr. Reynolds, please don't take offense at what I'm going to say. I respect your opinion and I respect you very much, but I'm concerned that we're making a mistake in not recommending this plea."
Tracy paused. Reynolds watched her with icy detachment.
"Go ahead," Reynolds said, and Tracy noticed all the warmth was gone from his voice.
"I can't think of another way to put this. Do you think it's possible that you're being influenced by your personal feelings toward Mrs.
Griffen?"
Reynolds colored angrily. Tracy wondered if she had overstepped her bounds. Then Reynolds regained his composure and looked down at the jury selection questions.
"No, Tracy," he said, his calm restored. "I am not being influenced by personal feelings. And while I appreciate your concern, I think we've spent too much time on this matter. Let's get back to work."
The days and nights were endless. Minutes seemed like hours.
Abbie never expected it to be this way. She prided herself on being able to live alone. When she lost her parents, she built a shell around herself to keep out the horror of loneliness. Then she survived the death of her lover, Larry Ross. When her aunt passed on, she pulled inside the shell once more and she had been able to walk out on Robert Griffen without a backward glance, because she needed no one but herself. But now, trapped in the house, virtually helpless and almost totally deprived of human contact, her shell was cracking.
Even the weather was conspiring against her. The sunny days of summer had given way to the chill of fall and it was often too cool to sit outdoors. She would have given anything to take a walk, but the bracelet on her wrist was a constant reminder that even such simple pleasures were forbidden to her.
On Friday night, the weather was balmy. A last-gasp attempt by nature to fight off the cruel and depressing rains that were sure to come.
Abbie sat on the patio, close to her invisible electronic wall, and watched the sunset. A large glass of scotch rested on the table at her elbow. She was drinking more than she wanted to, but liquor helped her sleep without dreams.
A flock of birds broke free from the trees at the edge of her property and soared into the dying light in a black and noisy cloud. Abbie envied them. Her spirit was weighted down by the gravity of her situation and confined to a narrow, airless place in her breast. Even Matthew's boundless confidence could not give it wings.
The sound of tires on gravel made Abbie's heart race, as it did whenever there was any break in the monotony of her routine.
She left the glass of scotch on the table and hurried to the front door.
She smiled when she saw that it was Matthew. He had been so good to her, visiting almost every day on the pretext that he was working on her case, when she knew that most of what they discussed could have been covered in a short phone call.
"How are you?" Matthew asked, as he always did.
"I was on the patio, enjoying the weather."
"May I join you?"
"Of course. A drink?"
"No, thanks."
They walked through the living room in silence, then stood side by side on the patio for a moment without speaking.
"Are you ready for trial?" Matthew asked.
"I should be asking you that."
Matthew smiled. Abbie was pleased to see that he was not as stiff around her as he had been when they first met.
"Actually," she said, "I can't wait. I would endure anything to get out of here."
"I can't imagine how hard it's been for you."
Abbie turned toward Matthew. She felt she could say anything to him.
"It hasn't been hard, Matt, it's been hell. Do you know what the worst part is? The absence of phone calls. Except for you and the electronic surveillance monitors, my phone never rings. Before the indictment, I had my work to occupy me. I guess it kept me from realizing how alone I've been. I think you may be the last person left who cares about me."
"The people who have deserted you aren't worthy of your friendship,"
Matthew said. "Don't waste your time worrying about them."
Abbie took his hand. "You've been more than my attorney, Matt. You've been my friend and I'll never forget that."
Matthew needed all of his courtroom skills to keep from showing how happy her simple words had made him.
"I'm glad you think of me that way," he said as calmly as he could.
Abbie squeezed his hand, then let it go. "Why did you come out?"
"Business. Dennis Haggard visited me. He made a plea offer . . .
"No," Abbie said firmly.
"I have an ethical obligation to communicate the offer.
They'll take a plea to murder. Life with a ten-year minimum sentence.
There would be no possibility of a death sentence."
"I'm innocent. I will not plead guilty to a crime I did not commit."
Matthew smiled. "Good. That's what I hoped you'd say."
"You're that certain you'll win?"
"I'm positive."
"I'm scared, Matt. I keep thinking about what will happen if we lose. I used to think I could take anything, but I can't. If I have to go to jail . . ."
Abbie looked as frightened and vulnerable as a child. Matthew hesitated for a second, then put his arms around her. Abbie collapsed into him, letting go completely. Matthew wished he could make time stop, so he would never have to let her go.
Chapter TWENTY-ONE
Matthew Reynolds was right. While working on State of Oregon v. Abigail Griffen, Tracy did not have time to run or rock-climb or eat right, and she sure wasn't sleeping right. But she didn't care.
Trying a death penalty case was more exhilarating than anything she had ever done.
All her life Tracy had been fiercely competitive. That was why she had turned down jobs at several corporate law firms, which offered more money, to work for Matthew Reynolds. Criminal law provided the biggest challenge. There were no higher stakes than life or death. She played for those stakes occasionally when she climbed, but the life that was at risk was her own. It surprised her how much more difficult it was when the life in the balance was someone else's and that person was totally helpless and dependent on her skills.
When Reynolds spoke about the lawyers who visited their clients after dark during her interview, Tracy felt an electric current passing through her. Reynolds had never faced the ultimate failure of watching a client die, and she vowed that it would never happen to her.
Matthew had put her in charge of the legal research so he could concentrate on the facts of the case. This was tremendously flattering because Reynolds was known nationally for his innovative legal thinking.
But it also meant working in the library from morning to night, learning everyth
ing there was to know about the specialized area of death penalty law, as well as the legal issues that were specific to Abbie's case.
Tracy's head was so crammed with information that she was waking up at odd hours with ideas that had to be jotted down. When the alarm startled her out of bed each morning, she was groggy, but an adrenaline high kicked in and carried her through days that passed in a flash.
Once the trial started, Tracy set her alarm even earlier so she could meet Reynolds at the office at six-thirty for the day's pretrial briefing. At eight-thirty, Barry Frame would arrive with Abigail Griffen and they would drive to the Multnomah County Courthouse, where they would fight their way through the crowd of reporters and spectators who mobbed the fifth-floor corridor outside the courtroom.
Their judge, the Honorable Jack Baldwin, was a gaunt, diminutive man with curly gray hair and a pencil-thin mustache. His complexion was unnaturally pale. When they were introduced, Tracy noticed liver spots on the back of the judge's hand and felt a slight tremor when they shook. Lines on his face showed Baldwin's seventy-four years. The Oregon constitution made it mandatory that judges retire at seventy-five.
Although Baldwin was dwarfed by Geddes and Reynolds, he carried himself with an easy authority that commanded respect and made him seem equal in stature to the attorneys. Baldwin had a reputation for being fair and his intelligence was unquestioned. The judge let the parties know that his last major trial was going to be a model for death penalty litigation.
The first week and a half in court was taken up with jury selection and opening statements. On Thursday of the second week, Geddes called his first witness, the attorney who represented Justice Griffen in his divorce. When he was through testifying on direct examination, the jury was fully aware that Abigail Griffen stood to lose a lot of money if the divorce became final.
Tracy was worried about the damage the testimony had caused, but Matthew's cross-examination left everyone in the courtroom convinced that two million dollars was chump change for a woman like Abbie Griffen.
Next Geddes called Jack Stamm, who reluctantly told the jury about Abbie's angry reaction when she learned that Justice Griffen had authored the opinion that reversed the conviction of Charlie Deems.
Stamm's testimony was no surprise to the defense. He believed in Abbie's innocence and had spoken freely with Matthew and Barry Frame before the trial.
"Mr. Stamm," Matthew asked the district attorney when it was his turn to cross-examine, "are your deputies usually overjoyed when the case of a convicted criminal is overturned on appeal?"
"No, sir."
"Have you heard deputy district attorneys other than Mrs. Griffen curse a particular judge because that judge wrote an opinion reversing a conviction?"
"Yes."
"So Mrs. Griffen's reaction was not unusual?"
"No, Mr. Reynolds. She reacted the way a lot of my deputies react when a case is reversed."
Reynolds smiled at Stamm. "I suspect even you have taken the name of a few appellate judges in vain?"
"Can I take the Fifth on that?" Stamm answered with a grin.
Everyone in the courtroom laughed, except Chuck Geddes.
"I'm going to let him exercise his rights here, Mr. Reynolds," Judge Baldwin said with a smile.
"Very well, your honor. I'll withdraw the question. But I do have another for you, Mr. Stamm. How seriously does Mrs. Griffen take her cases?"
Stamm turned to the jury.
"Abigail Griffen is one of the most dedicated prosecutors I have ever met. She is brilliant, thorough and scrupulously fair."
"Thank you, sir. No further questions."
"Mr. Geddes?" Judge Baldwin asked. Geddes thought about going after Stamm, but he knew Stamm would try to help Griffen if given the chance.
"No further questions, your honor. The state calls Anthony Rose."
Tony Rose entered the courtroom looking impressive in his police uniform. He would not look at Abbie. When he took the witness stand, he sat with his shoulders hunched and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
Geddes established that Rose was a police officer who had testified in several cases which Abigail Griffen had prosecuted. Then he stood up and walked over to the end of the jury box farthest from the witness.
"Officer Rose, when did you learn that the Supreme Court had reversed the conviction of Charlie Deems?"
"The day it happened. It was all over the station house."
"At some point after you learned of the reversal, did you have an opportunity to talk about it with the defendant?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tell the jury about that conversation."
"There's an Italian place, Caruso's. It's downtown on Second and Pine.
I eat there every once in a while. One night I saw Mrs. Griffen, the defendant, as I was leaving. She was by herself, so I went over to say hello. While we were talking, I told her I was sorry the case was reversed."
"What was her reaction?"
"She was furious."
"Did she mention her husband, Justice Griffen?"
"Yeah, and, uh, she wasn't too complimentary."
"What did she say about him?"
"She called him a son of a bitch and she said he reversed the case to get her. I guess she was going through a divorce and figured he was trying to make her look bad."
Geddes paused long enough to get the jurors' attention. Then he asked, "Officer Rose, did Mrs. Griffen tell you about something she wished Charlie Deems would do to Justice Griffen?"
"Yes, sir. She did."
"Tell the jury what she said."
"Right after she said she thought the judge had reversed the case to make her look bad, she said she hoped Deems would blow Justice Griffen to kingdom come."
Geddes nodded. "Blow him to kingdom come. Those were her words?"
"Yes, sir. They were."
Geddes turned toward Matthew Reynolds. "Your witness, Counselor."
Rose turned toward the defense counsel table, but he still refused to look Abigail Griffen in the eye. Matthew Reynolds stood and walked slowly toward the witness stand.
"You don't like Mrs. Griffen, do you?" Matthew asked, after taking a position that would not block the jurors' view of the witness.
Rose shrugged nervously. "I've got nothing against her."
"Do you respect her, Officer Rose?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is she a woman you treat with respect?"
"Well . . . Yeah. Sure. I respect her."
"Did you treat her with respect on the evening you have spoken about?"
Rose shifted nervously in his seat.
"Your Honor, will you instruct Officer Rose to answer."
"You must answer the question," Judge Baldwin Said.
"Look, that was a misunderstanding."
"I don't believe we were discussing a misunderstanding, Officer. We were discussing the concept of respect in the context of the respect a gentleman should have for a lady. Did you treat Mrs. Griffen with respect that evening?"
"I thought she was sending signals. I was wrong."
"Signals that indicated she wished to be raped?"
"Objection," Geddes shouted.
"This goes to bias, Your Honor."
"Overruled," Judge Baldwin said. "Answer the question, Officer."
"I didn't try to rape the defendant."
"Then why did she have to slap you to make you leave her house?"
"She . . . Like I said, there was a misunderstanding."
"That reached the point where she had to use physical force to make you leave her home?"
"That wasn't necessary. If she'd asked I would have left."
"At the time Mrs. Griffen slapped you, was she pinned to the wall?"
"I . . . I'm not certain."
"Was your hand up her dress."
"Look, everything happened very fast. I already said it was a mistake."
"This was not the first time Mrs. Griffen had rebuffed you, was it?"
"Wha
t do you mean?"
"On two occasions, when she was trying to prepare your testimony for trial, did you make sexual advances to her?"
"It wasn't like that."
"How was it, Officer Rose?"
"She's a good-looking woman."
"So you suggested a date?"
"I'm only human."
"And she was married. You knew that when you propositioned her, did you not?"
Rose looked toward Chuck Geddes for help, but the prosecutor was stone-faced.
"Did you know she was married when you propositioned her the first time?"
"Yes."
"And the second time? You were still aware that she was a married woman?"
"Yes."
"Nothing further, Officer Rose."
"You were fantastic," Abbie said as soon as her front door closed.
"You crucified Rose."
"Yes, but the jury heard that you wished Deems would blow up Justice Griffen."
"It doesn't matter. Rose's credibility was destroyed. You weren't watching the jurors. You should have seen the way they were looking at him. They were disgusted. If that statement's all they've got . . ."
"But we know it isn't. There has to be something more."
"Well, I don't want to think about it now. I want to relax. Can I get you a drink?"
"I have to work tonight. Geddes is calling several important witnesses tomorrow."
"Oh," Abbie said, disappointed.
"You know I want to stay."
"No, you're right. It's just . . . I don't know. I'm so happy.
Things went well for once. I want to celebrate."
"We'll celebrate when you're acquitted."
"You believe I will be, don't you?"
"I know you'll never go to prison."
Abbie was standing inches from Matthew. She reached out and took his hand. The touch paralyzed him. Abbie moved into his arms and pressed her head against his chest. She could hear his heart beating like a trip-hammer. Then she looked up and kissed him. Matthew had imagined this moment a thousand times, but never believed it would really happen.
He felt Abbie's breasts press against his chest. He let his body fit into hers.
Abbie's head sank against his chest.
"When this is over, we'll get away from here," Abbie said.
"We'll go to a quiet place where no one knows us."
"Abbie . . ."
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