Jack quietly crossed the well. Behind him he heard the judge ask the court officer to bring back the jury. Jack opened the gate. He caught Alexis's eye. She was looking at him with an understandably questioning, confused yet hopeful expression. Jack politely worked his way toward her and took the neighboring seat. He squeezed her hand. He noticed she had rescued his carry-on bag that he'd left at the gate before going into the judge's chambers.
"Mr. Bingham," Judge Davidson called out. "I notice the defendant is not presently at the defendant's table."
"My assistant, Mr. Cavendish, tells me he requested to use the men's room," Randolph said, partially rising out of his chair.
"I see," Judge Davidson responded.
The jury was then led into the courtroom, and they filed into the jury box.
"What's going on?" Alexis questioned. "Did you find something criminal?"
"I found more than I bargained for," Jack confessed.
"Perhaps someone should let Dr. Bowman know we are back in session," Judge Davidson said. "It is important for him to witness these proceedings."
Jack gave Alexis's hand another squeeze before getting to his feet. "I'll get Dr. Bowman," he said. As he moved back down the aisle, he motioned to Randolph 's assistant, who'd gotten up, presumably to get Craig, that he would fetch the defendant.
Jack pushed out through the door to the hall. There were the usual clumps of people engaging in hushed conversations sprinkled around the hallway and the elevator lobby. Jack made a beeline for the men's room. He glanced at his watch. It was a quarter past ten. He yanked open the door and entered. A man of Asian ancestry was washing his hands at the sink. The area around the urinals was empty. Jack continued to the stalls and bent down at the waist to look under the walls. Only the last stall was occupied. Jack walked down to the door and debated whether to wait or call out. As late as it was, he decided to call out.
"Craig?" Jack questioned.
The toilet flushed, and a moment later the locking mechanism of the door clicked. The door opened inwardly, and a young Hispanic man emerged. He gave Jack a quizzical look before brushing past on his way to the sink. Surprised at not having had to face Craig after building up his courage to do so, Jack bent over again to make sure all the stalls were empty, and they were. Except for the two men at the sink, there was no one else in the bathroom. Craig was nowhere to be seen. Intuitively, Jack knew he was gone.
24
After returning to the courtroom, where Craig had failed to reappear, Jack had taken Alexis aside. As quickly and humanely as possible, he had related everything that had happened since he'd spoken with her the night before. She had listened with initial disbelief and consternation until she learned the extent of the proof of Craig's apparent guilt. At that point, she'd allowed her professional persona take over, enabling her to analyze the situation clinically. In that frame of mind, she, not Jack, had been the one to bring up the time issue and that Jack had to make tracks if he hoped to get to the church on time. With a promise to call that afternoon, Jack had grabbed his carry-on and dashed for the elevators.
Running headlong, Jack traversed the courtyard in front of the courthouse and descended the two short flights of steps to the street. To his relief, the battered Accent was where he'd left it, although a parking ticket was stuck beneath the windshield wiper. The first order of business was to get the paper bag containing the gun from the trunk. Anticipating needing to return the firearm on his way to the airport, Jack had gotten the directions to police headquarters that morning from Latasha.
The police station was right around the corner from where Jack was parked, although it required him to do a U-turn over a median. Jack looked in his rearview mirror for pursuing squad cars after pulling off the stunt. Jack had learned from sore experience that when you missed your turn while driving in Boston, it was frequently impossible to loop back.
The stop at the police station was accomplished expeditiously. The bag had Liam Flanagan's name on it, and the duty officer was willing to accept it with no comment whatsoever. Glad that chore was out of the way, Jack ran out to the car, which was double-parked with the engine running.
The signage to the airport was superior to the signage in the rest of the city, and Jack soon found himself in a tunnel. Thankfully, the distance from downtown Boston to the airport was short, and Jack got there surprisingly quickly. Following the signs for the rent-a-car company, he drove onto the Hertz lot a few minutes later.
Jack pulled into one of the car-return lanes. There were some instructions of what to do when dropping off a vehicle, but Jack just ignored them as he ignored the agents who were roaming around assisting customers. The last thing Jack wanted to do was get into an extended discussion about the damaged vehicle. He was confident he'd hear from Hertz. He grabbed his carry-on and ran for the bus to the terminal.
When he boarded the bus, he thought it was about to leave, but instead it sat there with its motor idling and no driver. Jack nervously eyed the time. It was a little after eleven. He knew he had to catch the eleven thirty Delta shuttle or all was lost.
Finally, the driver appeared. He cracked a few jokes as he asked which terminals people wanted. Jack was happy to learn that Delta was the first stop.
The next aggravation was getting a ticket. Luckily, the shuttle had its own section. After that came the security line, but even that was not too problematic. It was eleven twenty when Jack shoved his feet back into his shoes and sprinted down the concourse toward the shuttle gate.
Jack was not the last person on board, but it was close. The plane's door was closed behind the individual who'd boarded right after him. Jack took the first seat available to facilitate deplaning in New York. Unfortunately, it was a middle seat between a scruffy student with an iPod so loud Jack could hear every note and a pinstriped businessman with a laptop and a Blackberry. The businessman treated Jack to a disapproving glare when Jack indicated he wanted to occupy the middle seat. It required the businessman to move his carry-on from where he'd stowed it and to pick up his jacket and briefcase, which he'd placed on the seat.
Once seated with his carry-on at his feet, Jack put his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. Despite his bone-weary exhaustion, there was no chance he could fall asleep, and not just because of his neighbor's iPod. He kept replaying the too short and unsatisfactory conversation he'd had with Alexis, and the belated realization that he'd not apologized for being the one who had uncovered Craig's perfidy, not only to the profession but also to his family. Even the rationalization that Alexis and the children might be better off knowing the truth did not make Jack feel any better. The chances of the family hanging together in the face of what was coming were unfortunately slim, and that thought underlined for Jack how deceptive appearances could be. From the outside, the Bowmans seemingly had it alclass="underline" professional parents, beautiful children, and a storybook house. Yet on the inside there was a kind of cancer undermining it all.