During the week, Amanda lived in a lovely New Town condo and worked as a child psychologist. Her biggest client was the Jackson County School District and, on more than one occasion over the years, she had provided valuable expertise for Lily in court. But by mutual agreement, “work talk” was off-limits at the cottage. The cottage was for getting away from all that, if only for a while. So it came as no small surprise when, from her stomach on the chair beside her, Lily heard Amanda say, “So, are you getting all geared up for the Lightfoot trial?”
Jason Lightfoot’s attorney opened her mouth to reply, and then closed it again. It wasn’t that she was unwilling to discuss the matter -- it was that she had nothing to say. Aside from her duty visits to the jail, she hadn’t really thought much about the case in the past couple of months.
She gave the usual reasons. Other clients required her attention, which was true, the prosecution was slow in turning over evidence, which was also true, and it was barely summer, and the trial wasn’t scheduled to begin until autumn, which meant there was still plenty of time.
But she had to acknowledge that she could feel the winds starting to shift. Media coverage, which had dropped off after the initial flurry, was beginning to rev up again in anticipation of the trial due to start in October. At least once a week now, editorial perspectives were being published in the Port Hancock Herald, call-in commentaries were being aired on the area’s popular talk radio station, and previews were popping up all over the local cable television channel. And by a margin of four to one, the good citizens calling in, making appearances, and sending letters to the editor had hanged her client before he had even stepped foot inside the courtroom.
The truth was, Lily didn’t like to lose, and like just about everyone else around town, she had identified this case as a loser. As proof, she needed only to remember that the Indian had been indicted in less than ten minutes. And from what she knew of the case, there was little evidence she would be able to challenge and few defense witnesses she would have to prep to testify. Which didn’t mean she wouldn’t give it all she had. But realistically, she knew that the best she would be able to do was argue mitigation and hope she could get someone on the jury to listen.
Lily had always imagined that her first death case would be a fight for right, where she would hoist the banner of justice and do battle to the end for her client. Because of course, her client would be innocent -- not some pathetic homeless drunk Indian who couldn’t even remember what he had done. And it made no difference that she had a reasonable argument to make -- that Jason Lightfoot was too drunk to know what he was doing, and therefore, it was not a matter of murder one, but at best, manslaughter -- when her client didn’t even care.
She resented Jason Lightfoot for ruining her dream, and if it bothered her that she wasn’t exactly doing due diligence at this point, she had only to remember that he had as good as told her not to bother. She had shot the best wad she had in getting John Henry to consider taking the death penalty off the table, and in return, her client had essentially shot her right out of the water.
“Well, let’s just say,” she told Amanda, “that it’s not what I would have chosen for my first death case.”
“All the more reason to give it everything you’ve got then, I guess,” her friend, the psychologist, responded.
Lily sighed. It was pretty much the same thing her father always told her.
“Absolutely,” she murmured, effectively putting an end to the conversation. She hiked up her bathing suit, adjusted the towel on the chair beneath her, and prepared to turn over onto her stomach to let the sun get at her back.
It was just as she was starting to turn over that she caught a glimpse, from the corner of her eye, of something that was not quite as it should have been, and even before she fully realized what it was, she stopped in mid-turn.
A small, single-engine plane, no more than a blip in the sky, that had been flying high above them, had made an abrupt turn, gone into a sudden dive, and was now swooping down toward the ground, traveling so fast and dropping so low that it appeared to be in real danger of colliding with the trees.
It was so close that Lily could clearly hear the noise made by the engine, and plainly see there were black stripes running the length of the gold body. It looked for certain like the plane was out of control and going to crash. And then, at the very last minute, before it surely would have crashed, she saw it pull sharply out of the dive and veer away, heading back up toward the mountains, but not before she also saw something come hurtling out of it.
At first, Lily assumed the plane was in distress, and the thing falling from it was a parachute. But she realized the plane had fallen too low for any kind of safe jump, and the pilot surely had to know that. Then she thought perhaps it was a piece of the plane that had broken off.
Whatever it was, it fell swiftly toward the ground, and before she had any chance to react, it hit the chimney on the roof of the cottage, not more than thirty feet from where she and Amanda lay, and exploded, shattering the peaceful summer silence and sending shards of glass, and chunks of wood and pieces of stone and shingle flying everywhere.
The last thing
