Дэвид Балдаччи - Absolute Power

“What lawyer?”

Before Luther could answer, Jack burst past the officer and entered the room.

“Jack Graham, I’m the accused’s attorney. Get that recorder out of here. I want to talk to my client alone, right now, gentlemen.”

Luther stared at him. “Jack—” he began sharply.

“Shut up, Luther.” Jack looked at the men. “Right now!”

The men began to clear the room. Frank and Jack did an eye-to-eye and then the door was closed. Jack put his briefcase down on the table but didn’t sit.

“You want to tell me what the hell’s going on?”

“Jack, you gotta keep out of this. I mean it.”

“You came to me. You made me promise I’d be there for you. Well goddammit here I am.”

“Great, you did your part, now you can go.”

“Okay, I go, then what the hell do you do?”

“That doesn’t concern you.”

Jack leaned into his face. “What are you going to do?”

Luther’s voice rose for the first time. “I’m pleading guilty! I did it.”

“You killed her?”

Luther looked away.

“Did you kill Christine Sullivan?” Luther didn’t answer. Jack grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Did you kill her?”

“Yes.”

Jack scrutinized the face. Then grabbed his briefcase.

“I’m your lawyer whether you want me anymore or not. And until I figure out why you’re lying to me don’t even think about talking to the cops. If you do I’ll have you declared insane.”

“Jack, I appreciate what you’re doing, but—”

“Look, Luther, Kate told me what happened, what she did and why she did it. But let me tell it to you straight. If you go down for this, your little girl is never going to recover. You hear me?”

Luther never finished what he was about to say. Suddenly the tiny room seemed about the size of a test tube. He never heard Jack leave. He sat there and stared straight ahead. For one of the few times in his life, he had no idea what he should do.

Jack approached the men standing in the hallway.

“Who’s in charge?”

Frank looked at him. “Lieutenant Seth Frank.”

“Fine, Lieutenant. Just for the record, my client doesn’t waive his Miranda rights and you’re not to attempt to talk to him outside of my presence. Understood?”

Frank folded his arms across his chest. “Okay.”

“Who’s the ACA handling this?”

“Assistant Commonwealth’s Attorney George Gorelick.”

“I’m assuming you got an indictment?”

Frank leaned forward. “Grand jury returned a true hill last week.”

Jack put his coat on. “I’m sure they did.”

“You can forget about bail, I guess you know that.”

“Well, from what I’ve heard, I think he might be safer hanging with you guys. Keep an eye on him for me, will you?”

Jack handed his card to Frank and then walked purposefully down the hallway. At the parting remark, the smile faded from Frank’s lips. He looked at the card and then toward the interrogation room and back at the rapidly disappearing defense counsel.

Kate had showered and changed. Her damp hair was swept straight back and hung loosely down to her shoulders. She wore a thick indigo blue V-neck sweater with white T-shirt underneath. The faded blue jeans hung loosely around her narrow hips. Thick wool socks covered her long feet. Jack watched those feet as they moved up and down, propelling their lithe owner about the room. She had recovered somewhat from earlier. But the horror was still lurking in her eyes. She seemed to be battling it with physical activity.

Jack cradled a glass of soda and sat back in the chair. His shoulders felt like a two-by-four. As if sensing that, Kate stopped pacing and started massaging.

“He didn’t tell me they had an indictment.” Kate’s voice was angry.

“You really think cops are above using people to get what they want?” he shot back.

“I can see you’re getting back into the defense attorney state of mind.”

She really dug into his shoulders; it felt wonderful to him. Her wet hair dipped into his face as she bore down on the stiffest points. He closed his eyes. On the radio Billy Joel’s “River of Dreams” was playing. What was his dream? Jack asked himself. The target seemed to keep jumping on him, like spots of sunlight you tried to chase down as a kid.

“How is he?” Kate’s question jarred him back. He swallowed the rest of his drink.

“Confused. Screwed up. Nervous. All the things I never thought he could be. They found the rifle, by the way. Upper-story room of one of those old townhouses across the street. Whoever fired that bullet, they’re long gone by now. That’s for sure. Hell I don’t even think the cops care.”

“When’s the arraignment?”

“Day after tomorrow, ten o’clock.” He arched his neck and gripped her hand. “They’re going for capital murder, Kate.”

She stopped massaging.

“That’s bullshit. Homicide in the commission of a burglary is a class one felony, murder in the first degree, tops. Tell the ACA to check the statute.”

“Hey that’s my line isn’t it?” He tried to make her smile, but didn’t succeed. “The commonwealth’s theory is that he broke into the house and was in the middle of the burglary when she caught him in the act. They’re using the evidence of physical violence — strangulation, beating and two shots to the head — to sever it from the act of burglary. They believe that takes it into the realm of a vile and depraved act. Plus they have the disappearance of Sullivan’s jewelry. Murder in the commission of armed robbery equals capital murder.”

Kate sat down and rubbed her thighs. She wore no makeup and had always been one of those women who didn’t need to. The strain was telling though, especially in and under her eyes, in the slope of her shoulders.

“What do you know about Gorelick? He’s going to be trying this sucker.” Jack popped an ice cube in his mouth.

“He’s an arrogant asshole, pompous, bigoted and a terrific trial lawyer.”

“Great.” Jack got up from his chair and sat down next to Kate. He took her ankle and rubbed it. She sunk down into the sofa and put her head back. It had always been that way with them, so relaxed, so comfortable in the company of each other, like the last four years had never happened.

“The evidence Frank told me he had wasn’t even close to getting an indictment. I don’t understand, Jack.”

Jack slipped off her socks and rubbed her feet with both hands, feeling the fine, tiny bones. “The police got an anonymous tip on the license plate of a car seen near the Sullivan place on what was probably the night of the murder. It was traced to the D.C. impoundment lot on that night.”

“So. The tip was wrong.”

“No. Luther used to tell me how easy it was to pick up a car from the impoundment lot. Do a job and then return it.”

Kate didn’t look at him, she appeared to be studying the ceiling.

“Nice little chats you two used to have.” Her tone held the familiar reproach.

“Come on, Kate.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was weary again.

“The police checked the floor matting. Rug fibers from the Sullivan bedroom were found there. Also present was a very peculiar soil mixture. Turns out that exact same soil mix was used by Sullivan’s gardener in the cornfield next to the house. The soil was a special blend made up for Sullivan; you won’t find that exact composition anywhere else. I had a chat with Gorelick. He’s feeling pretty confident I can tell you that. I haven’t gotten the reports yet. I’ll file my discovery motion tomorrow.”

“Again, so what? How does that tie in to my father?”

“They got a search warrant for Luther’s house and car. They found the same mixture on the floor mat in the car. And another sample on the living room rug.”