James Grippando - Leapholes

Every single case reported in every last one of these books is a piece of someone's life."

"I never thought of it that way."

Hezekiah shrugged, as if he weren't surprised. "You hungry?"

"Yes."

"How hungry?"

"Enough to eat a book."

"Good. Take your appetite straight back that way, then turn left to the kitchen. Help yourself to the refrigerator. When you've had your fill, you can get out of that hideous orange prison jumpsuit. Your jeans and sweatshirt are in the closet."

"What about my basketball jersey?"

"Darn, I was going to keep that for myself. Goes well with the shoes." He winked to let Ryan know he was kidding. "Come get me when you're finished. I'll be on the second floor. I have a ton of research to do."

"Thanks," said Ryan.

"You're welcome."

Ryan was starting to like this Hezekiah better by the minute. He followed the old man's directions and found the kitchen. His stomach growled as he opened the refrigerator, and he nearly flipped when he saw what was inside. Not only was it packed with food, but it contained only the food he liked. Cheeseburgers, mac and cheese, yellow cake with chocolate frosting. Raisin bread, chocolate milk, and vanilla-flavored cola. Hezekiah even had his favorite sports drink in his lucky citrus-cooler flavor. Ryan grabbed a little of everything, cleared a spot on the table, and then proceeded to eat and drink until the-thought of swallowing one more bite made him sick to his stomach. He pushed away from the table and found his clothes in the closet. They'd been washed and were neatly folded. It felt good to put on his favorite jeans, sweatshirt, and sneakers. And the basketball jersey always brought him good luck.

A sudden crash from inside the library wiped the smile from his face.

He ran out of the kitchen and took a quick look around. Everything looked normal, but then he heard another crash upstairs, in the atrium. It sounded like books tumbling to the floor. Finally, his eyes locked on a huge mess on the second floor. One of the bookshelves had been overturned. It was exactly where Hezekiah was supposed to be doing his research. Ryan raced up the stairs and headed straight for the pile of books.

"Hezekiah!" he shouted, fearing the worst.

The pile of books was enormous, taller than Ryan and almost fifty feet long. The entire row of shelving had collapsed. Books were piled on top of books. Somewhere beneath the rubble, Ryan feared, was his new friend Hezekiah. Ryan started tossing books aside, digging furiously.

"Are you okay?" he shouted. No one replied. Ryan kept digging through the pile.

"Hezekiah! Are you-"

The old man's head suddenly popped up through the pile. He was laughing.

"Hezekiah?"

"Oooooh boy. That was a close one."

"Are you hurt?" asked Ryan.

He struggled to push his way up from the bottom of the pile. Ryan helped him to his feet.

"I'm fine, just fine. That happens every now and then."

"What happens?"

"Oh, the re-entry can be a bit rough sometimes."

"Re-entry? What do you mean, re-" Ryan stopped himself.

He noticed Hezekiah's clothes. "How did you get all soaking wet?"

"Research, of course."

"You get wet doing research?"

"Sometimes. It depends on the case."

Ryan made a face, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Hezekiah dug through the pile. He found the right book and turned to a certain page. "Here it is. This is what I was researching."

It was an old case. The pages had yellowed with age. The date was 1842. Ryan read the case name aloud. "United States versus Holmes."

"That's right," said Hezekiah. "I was doing research to prepare your defense at trial. This case-United States versus Holmes-will be very important to your defense."

"Why?"

"Because that's the way the law works. Judges rely on old cases to decide new cases. They're called legal precedents."

Ryan was still confused, but he was also curious. "What is this Holmes case about?"

"Oh, it was a terrible case. Just awful what happened to those poor souls." Hezekiah was trembling as he spoke.

Ryan was almost afraid to probe, but he asked anyway. "What happened?"

"A long time ago, a ship called the William Brown was sailing across the North Atlantic Ocean. It was carrying passengers from Liverpool to the United States. It hit an iceberg off the coast of Canada. The ship went down in a matter of minutes."

Ryan thought of the movie about the Titanic, another ship that hit an iceberg. It gave him chills. "That does sound awful. But what does a sinking ship have to do with my case?"

"Everything, my boy. That's what I've been trying to tell you. These cases are about people. To understand them, you have to get in to them. In to them, I tell you."

Ryan wasn't sure what to make of the old man. "Wait a minute. Are you saying that the reason you're all wet is because Hezekiah nodded slowly, flashing a mischievous grin. "Now I think you're beginning to get the picture."

"Nah," said Ryan, scoffing. "No way. You can get into books, figuratively, I mean. But you can't literally get in to them. Nobody can do that."

Hezekiah chuckled to himself. "What do you think happened here, then?"

"Looks like you pulled these bookshelves over and dumped a bucket of water over your head."

"Do you really think that's what happened?"

"I don't know. But that's a heck of a lot easier to believe than you jumping inside a book and getting all wet doing research about a ship that sank in 1842."

Hezekiah nodded, as if he expected Ryan's reaction. "What if I could prove it to you?"

"How are you going to do that?"

"Simple. I'll show you how I do my research."

Ryan took a half step back.

"What's the matter?" said Hezekiah. "You scared?"

"No. I'm not scared."

"Of course you're not. There's nothing to be afraid of, is there, Ryan? I'm just a crazy old man who pulled down the bookshelves and dumped a bucket of water over his head. Right?"

"Maybe."

"Or maybe not," said Hezekiah. "Come with me, Ryan. Do a little research, and learn for yourself."

The library was a mess, and Ryan offered to help the old man reshelve his fallen books before they went anywhere. It was a polite gesture that would have made Ryan's mother proud. Hezekiah seemed to realize that Ryan was really just buying a little extra time to quiz him. He wanted to know more about these "research trips" before he agreed to go on one.

Ryan picked up one book at a time and handed them to Hezekiah. The lawyer knew exactly where each book belonged. He was standing atop a stepladder, filling the top shelf.

"So tell me one thing," said Ryan as he passed up another book.

"Certainly. Anything you want to know."

"Exactly what kind of a lawyer are you?"

Hezekiah gave a little wink. "I'm the kind of lawyer you want on your side if you ever get into trouble."

"You're that good, huh?"

"Let's just say I have a lot of experience."

"Have you ever lost a case?"

"A few. The law is like anything else in life, Ryan. The right side doesn't always win."

Ryan thought of all the times he'd visited his father in jail, all the times his father had told him that he was innocent. "I suppose that's true."

"It's absolutely true," said Hezekiah. "Judges and jurors are human beings. Sometimes they make good decisions. Sometimes they make bad decisions." He paused, and his gaze slowly swept across his vast library. "And all those decisions- good or bad, right or wrong-are right here."

"Have you read all of them?"

"No. But I've visited many of them."

"Visited?"

"Yes. Like I just told you. As part of my research."

Ryan chuckled. Hezekiah restocked another book and asked, "What's so funny?"