The Justice Game

71

When court adjourned, the adrenaline that had been coursing through Kelly’s body all day suddenly disappeared. It felt like somebody had just squeezed every ounce of emotion out of her, leaving her drained and lifeless. The wear and tear of a day in court was worse than her most demanding swim meets had ever been.

She left court side by side with Blake Crawford, stopping on the steps of the courthouse to field questions from the press. It seemed like years ago that she had entered the courthouse jacked up to give her opening statement. She had hours of work still ahead of her tonight, and then she would be back first thing tomorrow to do battle all over again.

The pressure was unbelievable. The high points of a trial were so exhilarating, the low points so devastating. And the crazy thing was, she loved every minute of it.

She answered a dozen or so questions, keeping her responses bland and professional, then headed to her car. She had spent the early evening hours of the previous day preparing Blake for his testimony. Afterward, she worked on her opening until 1 a.m. She hadn’t had time to get a minute of exercise in nearly four days. As she climbed into her car, she felt sluggish, hungry, and physically exhausted.

As she started the car, her BlackBerry buzzed-Darcie Rollins, her firm’s PR director. “Are you on your way to the hotel?” Darcie asked.

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“I need you to go to the WDXR studios. They’re letting you use the satellite uplink for some interviews tonight. First one starts at 7:00.”

“What interviews?” Kelly said.

“You haven’t checked your messages?”

“ What interviews?”

Kelly waited. When Darcie finally answered, her voice sounded less enthusiastic. “We set up three interviews with cable shows-CNN, CNBC and Fox. You can get them all done by 8:30.”

Kelly almost lit into the poor woman. She didn’t have time to play TV celebrity. She’d be lucky to get in bed by midnight even if she went straight to work. Somehow, miraculously, she kept her temper in check. “I can’t do these interviews,” she said. “I’m in the middle of a trial.”

But Darcie wouldn’t take no for an answer. The senior partners at the firm sensed an unparalleled marketing opportunity. Darcie was just following orders. She had already committed Kelly; they couldn’t back out now.

This time, Kelly let her anger play itself out. She vented for nearly three minutes, blasting the firm and her senior partners and even Darcie for being so insensitive. She ultimately agreed to do two of the shows but made Darcie cancel the Fox interview. “And Darcie…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you dare schedule one more interview without checking with me first.”

“O-kay,” Darcie sounded hesitant. “No more after tomorrow morning.”

“What?”

“You were such a hit on the Today show last time around. They really wanted you back. They’re sending a crew to your hotel.”

By the time Jason arrived at the office, his father and Case McAllister had already met. They were comparing guns and swapping firearms stories like old friends. You would have never known that Jason’s dad harbored a deep resentment toward MD Firearms.

Andrew Lassiter, meanwhile, was hunched over a computer in the conference room, oblivious to everyone else. Bella was playing hostess and providing a running commentary on the status of various tasks.

Jason gathered his team in the cramped conference room, nudging aside Andrew Lassiter’s stacks of documents and spreadsheets so they could all have a place to sit. Bella brought in dinner in Styrofoam containers-lasagna and salads from the Purple Cow.

Jason hardly touched his food as he focused on the list of tasks to be completed. “Our first priority is to get this shadow jury in place,” he said. “I feel like I’m running blind until we start getting that feedback.”

Andrew launched into a five-minute explanation of why the process was taking so long. Bella rolled her eyes.

“Can we have them in place by tomorrow night?” Jason asked.

Before Andrew opened his mouth, Case chimed in. “A simple yes or no will do,” he said.

“It’s not that easy,” Andrew murmured, though he wouldn’t look at Case. “Bella and I have interviewed close to two hundred prospects on the phone. If we want exact matches, it takes time.” He shook his head a little, a nervous twitch that Jason hadn’t seen before. “This isn’t what I’m good at-talking to potential shadow jurors. At Justice Inc. I had other people doing that.”

“Can you help him, Dad?” Jason asked.

Jason’s father shrugged. He was probably thinking that he hadn’t flown in from Atlanta to do secretarial work, but he didn’t say no.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jason said.

They spent another half hour bickering about the mountain of tasks that needed to be addressed: witnesses to prepare, deposition designations to complete, preparation of cross-examination questions, legal research, factual research… Jason got depressed just talking about it. Every item they surfaced generated five additional unfinished items. Bella kept grousing about how it would be impossible to get it all done.

Finally, Case had heard enough. He took charge of the meeting and assigned responsibilities and deadlines for each task. He insisted that Jason be freed up to focus on developing his cross-examinations of the witnesses.

“I’ll make another pot of coffee,” Bella said. “It’s going to be a long night.”

Two hours later, Jason took a break and wandered down the hall to a makeshift office his dad was using as he called potential mock jurors. His father occupied the only chair in the room, so Jason leaned against the wall, waiting for his dad to finish his call.

“Thanks for coming,” Jason said.

“You’re still my son,” his father said, locking onto Jason with bloodshot eyes. “From what I was hearing, it sounded like you could use a little help.”

Jason wasn’t sure what that meant, so he let it pass. He closed the door and placed a sheet of paper on the desk in front of his dad. “I didn’t bring you up here just to help manage the shadow jury,” Jason said.

“That’s a relief.”

“I really need you to investigate a couple of jurors.” Jason nodded toward the sheet. “Three and Seven. Nobody else can even know you’re doing this.”

“What for?” Jason’s dad narrowed his eyes and his thick eyebrows drew together. Jury tampering was a felony.

“Nothing illegal, Dad. I’ve just got a feeling that they’re holding something back, that for some reason they’re out to nail me.”

“A feeling, ” his dad said sarcastically.

“It’s complicated,” Jason replied. “I can’t tell you anything else right now.”

Jason’s dad stood. “I’m your father, Jason. If you’re in trouble, I need to know.”

For a moment, Jason seriously considered telling him. It would feel so much better to have someone else share this burden. But he knew what would happen. As soon as his dad was brought into the know, Jason would no longer control the response. His options would disappear; his dad would try to dictate what to do. Another cover-up would be in full swing.

“Will you do it?” Jason asked.

“You’re not going to tell me why?”

“Not yet. I can’t.”

Jason’s dad blew out a big sigh, one of those where-did-I-go-wrong exhalations that Jason knew all too well. “When do you need it by?”

“Anything you can have by tomorrow night would be great.”

“You need any other miracles with that?” his dad asked. “A Red Sea parting maybe? Water into wine?”

“Nope. I’m good,” Jason said. Despite the pressure of the case, something about this conversation seemed right. It was the first time they had talked without fighting since Christmas day.

“By the way, whenever you’re done and ready to go, just come and get me,” Jason said. “I can always finish my work at the cottage.”

“Thanks,” his dad said. “But I already checked into a hotel.”

Jason arrived at his cottage well past midnight, so tired he could barely move. He took off his shoes, threw his suit coat, shirt, and tie on a chair, and sat down on the couch in front of the TV. He flipped from one channel to the next, anything to distract his mind from the case. Before long he had curled up on the couch and fallen asleep with the remote in his hand, the channel stuck on a late-night talk show.

A few hours later, his neck stiff from being propped against a pillow on the armrest, Jason woke up. Instinctively, before he staggered up to bed, he checked his BlackBerry. The e-mail jolted him awake: Slow the trial down. Don’t put Poole on the stand until Monday. Keep up the good work. Your secrets are safe with me. Luthor