“What are you talking about?” asked Lindsey. “I admit, I may have misled you in the past, but that’s only because the truth is so painful. Do you think it’s easy to walk into a courtroom full of people and tell them you had sex with a sailor while your husband took photographs? Can you blame me for not running into your office on the first day and saying, ‘Hey, Jack, here’s our defense. I’ll tell the world that I was a sex slave.’ The media doesn’t publish the names of rape victims out of respect for their privacy, but if you’re married to a pervert, your entire sex life is front-page news. How fair is that?”
“Don’t change the subject, Lindsey. I’m talking about what you said to me under the cloak of the attorney-client privilege.”
“So am I. It just took me a while to get comfortable with the idea of having to say these things not just to you but to the whole world. But I did it. I was honest with you, and I did not perjure myself. Everything I said on the witness stand was true.”
“Why did you lie to me about the cause of Brian’s hearing loss?”
“What?”
“You told me he was born deaf. He wasn’t, was he?”
“What difference does it make? He’s deaf.”
“I don’t understand why you would lie about something like that.”
“It’s…it’s not important.”
“Every untruth is important. Why would you lie about this?”
“I have my reasons, okay?”
“What the hell are they?”
“Because…” Her lips pursed, as if she were about to explode. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was a bad mother, all right? But now you know. Brian has acquired deafness. You want to blame me? Great. Go right ahead and do it. Be just like Oscar, just like Oscar’s parents, just like Oscar’s friends. Blame Lindsey. Everybody has to blame Lindsey. Well, it wasn’t my fucking fault, damnit!”
Her voice nearly shook the room. Jack was stunned into silence, not sure what to say as he watched Lindsey lower her head and cry. Sofia laid a hand on her shoulder, but her touch seemed only to trigger a deeper reaction from Lindsey. It was a veritable catharsis, perhaps months of pent-up emotion spilling onto the conference room table.
“I wasn’t blaming you for anything,” said Jack. “I just want to know the truth.”
Lindsey dabbed her eyes with a tissue, pulled herself together. “No, you want so much more than that. You want to know everything there is to know about me and Brian. You don’t have that right. Taking this case didn’t make you Brian’s father.”
Jack could have argued genetics, but he knew what she meant. “No one said I wanted to be part of your family, Lindsey.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful for everything you’ve done.”
There was a knock at the door. Jack opened it, and the guard said, “Trial reconvenes in two minutes.” Jack thanked him, then turned back to his client.
Sofia said, “I guess we should get back.”
Lindsey and Sofia rose, but Jack didn’t move. Lindsey looked at him and said, “You are coming back, aren’t you?”
Jack still didn’t move.
Sofia said, “I can take it from here, Jack. If that’s what you want.”
“No!” said Lindsey, her voice racing. “You can’t quit. You promised to stay in this case as long as you believed I was innocent. A little lie about the cause of Brian’s hearing loss doesn’t change that.”
“It’s deeper than that,” said Jack.
She grasped his arm and said, “Don’t do this to me. That’s not what I-that’s not what Brian deserves.”
Jack stared at her coolly, trying to take the emotion out of his decision. Finally he said, “That’s the last time I’m going to let you play the Brian card. You understand me?”
“Yes,” she said quietly, releasing him.
Jack opened the door and led the way back to the courtroom, putting a good ten feet of airspace between himself and his client.
46
At seven o’clock that night, Jack drove to Alice Wainwright Park just south of downtown Miami. Leaving the car, he followed the exercise trail toward the rock-lined edge of Biscayne Bay and took a seat on the wooden bench near a kiosk that faced the mangroves. He knew he was in the right place because he was seventy-five paces east of the graffiti-covered wall that proclaimed, MADONNA, YOUR GUARD IS AN ASSHOLE, a leftover complaint from years earlier when the singer lived in one of the exclusive waterfront mansions in the neighborhood.
And then he waited, exactly as he’d been instructed.
Trial had adjourned for the day at five P.M. The afternoon session was devoted to forensic experts whom Jack had hired to neutralize the testimony of the medical examiner, particularly with respect to Captain Pintado’s time of death. All had gone well enough, but Jack had much higher expectations for what the evening might bring.
His cell phone rang, and he answered quickly. It was Sofia.
“Don’t we have a meeting?” She was referring to their standard date for evening debriefings after each trial day.
“I may not make it tonight,” said Jack.
“You still thinking of withdrawing as counsel? I can’t say I’d blame you, if you did.”
“No. Like Lindsey said, I promised to stay on the case as long as I believe she’s innocent. And don’t think I’m nuts, but I’m suddenly leaning that way again.”
“What happened?”
“Alejandro Pintado called me back. He’s supposed to meet me in about two minutes.”
“What about?”
“After Lindsey testified this morning, he went home and sifted through some of his son’s personal effects. I guess Lindsey was too distraught to deal with shipping his things from Guantanamo after his death, so Oscar’s father took care of it and had everything shipped back to Miami. Anyway, guess what the old man found.”
“No idea.”
“The digital camera Lindsey testified about.”
There was silence on the line. “Don’t tell me…”
“Yup,” said Jack. “Some very interesting photographs were still on it. I’ll let you know how our meeting goes.”
Jack hung up and tucked the cell phone into his pocket. He waited a few more minutes, then checked his watch. Quarter past seven. Pintado had told him to be at this particular bench no later than seven P.M. He wasn’t late yet, at least not by Miami standards. Jack watched a couple of shirtless college boys toss a Frisbee on the lawn, and it was hard to believe that just five thousand beers ago, he’d once had abs like that, too.
“Hello, Jack.”
He turned and saw Alejandro Pintado seated at the other end of the bench, which startled him a bit. “What are you, the stealth bomber or something?”
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m glad you came.”
“This was something I couldn’t do over the phone.”
Jack noticed the dossier tucked under Pintado’s arm. “Is that for me?”
“Yes.”
“Pictures?”
“No.”
“No?” said Jack, surprised.
Pintado laid the dossier on the bench beside him. “It’s in no one’s interest for those photographs ever to see
