“Well, I guess we all can’t live up to your moral standards,” Harris said with a smile.
Yup, it was the lady lawyer, he told himself as he turned the corner and saw her and Charlie in the visitor room. Then he saw the second woman in the room, and the stone-hard set of his face buckled.
It was Fabiana. No. Not her, he thought. He could face anything. Tomorrow, even. But not her.
He turned to Johannson, fighting back his emotions. “Take me back to my cell.”
He had turned around in the corridor when there was a loud bang behind him.
It was Fabiana. She was at the wired glass. She bashed it again with her fist. “It’s OK, Justin,” she yelled, with tears in her eyes. “I forgive you. I made a mistake. I’m sorry. Please don’t go. Please talk to me.”
Justin turned again and stood there in the corridor, biting his lip as he stared at her. This woman he had hurt beyond reckoning was saying she was sorry to him?
Charlie and Nina were grinning from ear to ear.
“We got news. Good news. You’re going to like this, Justin. I promise,” Charlie called.
“What’s it going to be, Harris?” Johannson said, annoyed.
“I guess I got some visiting to do,” Harris finally said.
Chapter 96
AT NINE THIRTY the next morning, Charlie, Fabiana, and I arrived, crisp and scrubbed and combed, at the state capitol in Tallahassee.
The last thing to do was the most important. We needed to deliver Fabiana to our ten o’clock meeting with the executive clemency board.
All in all, Fabiana seemed nervous but ready. The emotional meeting between her and Justin at the prison the night before had made them both feel better, I thought.
Maybe confession really was good for the soul. Who knew? Maybe I’d look into it myself at some point.
We were crossing the street toward the capitol’s plaza when we noticed the commotion. People holding signs were filing off a tour bus. About two dozen people were walking across the manicured capitol grounds or had already taken up position in front of the modern capitol building’s main entrance.
“What’s this? A tea party?” I said.
Then I saw the signs.
MEET YOUR MAKER, JUSTIN HARRIS! one said.
An attractive brunette in jeans and an American flag T-shirt waved a banner that said, NA, NA, NA, NA. HEY, HEY, GOOD-BYE, JUSTIN!
“You gotta be kidding me,” Charlie said as a news van pulled in behind the bus. A reporter got out with a beefy guy in a Braves cap and a shoulder cam.
“Pro–
“Damn it,” I said to Charlie. “That’s all we need. The circus is starting, and it looks like we’re in the center ring.”
“And that’s not the worst of it, not by a long shot,” Charlie said, pointing toward the bus.
I stopped in midstride as I saw where he was pointing.
I felt numb.
Peter was standing by the bus door, all smiles as he helped people off.
Chapter 97
I SWALLOWED, suddenly feeling weak, as the blood drained from my face.
I felt like running back to the car, or at least diving behind a parked one. All Peter would have to do was turn up the block and see me.
The only positive my seizing mind could latch on to was the fact that he wasn’t in uniform, wearing his gun. Then that slight hope was torn away as I remembered he most definitely could be strapping an off-duty concealed weapon.
I let out a breath and a tiny thankful moan as Peter turned his back to us. A minute later, he took up position directly in front of the capitol’s lobby doors with the group of protesters.
“That son of a bitch,” Charlie said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. We have to deliver Fabiana to the clemency board, Peter or no Peter. We’ll split up. You guys hang back by these trees until I distract him, then you go straight into the lobby.
“If anyone tries to stop you, kick them in the balls and keep going. Our contact from the clemency board, Mr. Sim, said he’d be waiting in the lobby to take us up. I’ll make it if I can, but if I don’t, you’re going to have to start without me.”
“Distract him?” I said. “How? What are you going to do?”
“Oh, I’ll think of something. Be ready now,” Charlie said as he began to jog down the block toward the crowded plaza.
“Hey, Fournier! What the hell is this?” Charlie screamed immediately as he entered the plaza.
I put my head down as Fabiana and I moved along the stand of trees that lined the plaza’s sidewalk.
“What does it look like I’m doing, Baylor?” Peter called back.
“Making a jackass out of yourself, as usual,” Charlie said, taking a sign from a protester’s hand and tossing it onto a grassy knoll beside the capitol’s steps.
“Go home, all of you!” Charlie yelled at them with his hands over his head, his face clenched with theatrical rage. “My client is innocent, but if it were up to you, you’d kill him yourselves. What is this, some kind of lynch mob? This is disgusting. You make me sick!”
The gathered crowd looked at Charlie in complete astonishment. Except for the news crew. They looked like kids on Christmas morning. The beefy guy immediately took his camera off a tripod, put it up onto his shoulder, and turned it on.
“You’ve finally gone crazy, haven’t you, Baylor?” Peter said, stepping toward Charlie. The crowd slowly followed him, unblocking the front doors.
Charlie’s plan was working. At least so far. I still had about forty yards of open plaza to cross.
“Finally lost it, huh, Counselor?” Peter continued to yell in the dead silence. “This is unstable even for you. Let me guess. You’re drunk.”
“I’ll show you unstable,” Charlie yelled back, throwing his briefcase at Peter and raising his fists as he ran toward him. He really did seem like a complete lunatic. When Charlie said he was going to create a diversion, he wasn’t kidding.
Fabiana and I walked hurriedly across the plaza as Charlie and Peter rushed at each other and pandemonium broke out. No one even came close to noticing us as Peter swung at Charlie. The crowd made an ooh sound as Charlie ducked at the last second. But then a big, burly guy holding a JUSTIN HARRIS MUST DIE sign punched Charlie in the side of the head, sending him spinning.
“What? You can’t fight one-on-one, Fournier?” Charlie said as he sent the burly guy tumbling back with a shove.
“Miss Desmarais?” said a soft-looking Asian man in a tan suit as we finally made it into the end zone of the capitol’s cavernous lobby. “I’m Assistant Commissioner of Agriculture Dennis Sim. Where is Mr. Baylor, and what the heck is going on out there?”
“He’s, uh, been delayed,” I said. “I’m Mr. Baylor’s assistant, Nina Bloom. If you’ll take us up, we’re ready to meet with the board.”
