She was surprised by his tone. She said, “Well, I’m here, aren’t I? What information do you have?”
“It’s interesting. Harlan Madden doesn’t know much about him.”
“How do you know?”
“Harlan and I had a good chat this morning.”
“You talked to him?”
“Apparently American Lawyer is working on a piece about Boston’s Top Defense Legal Eagles.” He smiled. “Harlan’s a superlawyer.”
“And he fell for it.”
“Vanity knows no bounds. So he says that the client, Wheelz, insisted that Matías Sanchez be added to the defense lineup.”
“But why?”
“He has no idea. Sounds like they’re not coordinating, not working together at all. Madden’s not sure what he’s there for. It sort of pisses him off, I could tell, but he wouldn’t say that out loud. Okay, so your meeting with the guy. Was it really worth it? Did you find out something useful?”
“What I learned was that he’s not a player. He’s a pawn. And he’s scared.” She opened the bag, took out a clear plastic box and a plastic fork, opened the box, and speared a piece of grilled chicken.
“He said so?”
She nodded. She took a bite, chewed.
“Pawn of who?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure he knows. Which reminds me.” She checked her notepad. “I need you to dig into something called Mayfair Paragon.”
“What is it?” He took out a pocket notebook and wrote it down.
“That’s what I want to know. It came up a number of times in the chats they want to withhold. The Mayfair Paragon file.”
He pointed at the pile of boxes. “The chats are in there?”
She nodded.
“Can you show me?”
“I can’t. Legally, only my law clerk and I can look at the discovery materials.”
“Who’s gonna know?”
“Me. That’s the problem. Sorry.”
“Then at least give me context.”
“I can’t right now. I have to finish reading for the afternoon’s motion session.” She glanced at her watch. “Back to work.”
“All rise,” the court officer called out. He was a tall man of forty with a gray crew cut and a large pear-shaped protruding gut. His name was George, and he’d been working in the Suffolk courthouse since forever.
She entered the courtroom, laptop under her arm. She took her seat at the bench, put down her laptop, and looked over the courtroom.
Glenda Craft and Harlan Madden were there, along with their second chairs, but not Matías Sanchez.
“Uh, Mr. Madden?” she said.
“Yes, Your Honor?” He rose.
“I see your whole team isn’t here.”
“I’m sure Mr. Sanchez will be here any moment. Traffic, I bet.”
“Do you have any objection to our proceeding without him?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Then let us begin.”
Matías Sanchez never showed up.
20
Right after the afternoon session, Juliana left the courthouse, got her car from the garage across the street, and picked up Jake in front of his high school. He had to get to his SAT prep class in the farthest reaches of Newton. The sun was still out and bright; it hung in the air, burnt orange and enormous. Jake got into the car, shrugging off his backpack, looking sullen.
“How was school?”
He didn’t answer.
“That bad, eh?”
“Where’s Dad?”
“Faculty meeting. You’re stuck with me.” She pulled away from the curb. She glanced in her rearview.
Are you being followed? Hersh had asked.
“How was the history exam?”
“Fine.” His tone invited no follow-up.
“How do you like Mr. Bertone?”
No reply. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him shrug.
“He’s got to be better than Ms. Thomas.” Ms. Thomas was his seventh-grade history teacher with whom he had repeatedly clashed.
She signaled left and merged into heavy traffic on Route 9. From time to time she checked her rearview mirror. Jake was looking at his phone.
“Whoa,” he said.
“What?”
“You’re famous.”
“Me?”
“Well, not you, but the Wheelz case. Wow, there’s this whole subreddit about the trial.”
“A what?”
“It’s on Reddit — anyway, what’s her name, Rachel Meyers? Wheelz employees are really sliming her.”
“How so?”
He read from his phone. “‘That skanknasty bitch should be on her knees saying thank you to Devin for putting her in a big job she wasn’t ready for.’”
“Lovely.”
“‘Skeevy ho wants millions for every bj she gave.’”
“Jake.”
“Sorry. I didn’t write it.”
“It’s a swamp of trolls out there.”
“It says Wheelz offered her millions of dollars for a settlement and she turned it down. That she’s just some greedy pig, and it’s all ’cause Devin Allerdyce asked her out on a date.”
“It went a lot further than asking her out on a date, Jake. She was subjected to all kinds of abuse. Sexual harassment. So she reported it to the head of HR, who’s a woman. She figured, you know—”
“The sisterhood.”
“Instead, the head of HR turned right around and told the CEO. Who fired her on a totally bogus pretext. Performance issues. Bad advice. Like that.”
“You don’t sound very neutral.”
“In the courtroom I am. Totally. You know that. But I’m also a human being, and I have opinions. Can’t help it.”
In her rearview mirror she noticed a black Suburban with a tinted windshield, the same one that had been behind her since leaving the high school.
There was a long silence, and then she said, “Was Tyler back in school?” Tyler was one of his best friends and had been out sick for a while.
“Yeah.”
“I’m glad he’s better. His mom was worried. Speaking of which, you don’t still have a sore throat, do you?”
“That was one day, and it wasn’t even really sore.”
“You’d tell me if it was getting sore, wouldn’t you?”
“Jesus!” He hated questions about his health.
She knew she tended to be alarmist and think the worst, fear a return of the Hodgkin’s, but what could she do? When he went through that ordeal, she did too. She’d seen the fragility of life. She’d seen her son go partly bald during chemo; he had the rest of his hair shaved off. She remembered how skeletal he looked, his skin fish-pale. She’d seen her son hooked up to an IV for more than two months because his intestines had stopped working and he could no longer eat. No longer would a fever or a lump ever be routine.
Yet her overprotectiveness invariably incited his anger, as if she were pointing out some kind of weakness.
“All right, all right,” she said. She glanced in the rearview again and saw the same black Suburban, a couple of cars behind. Opaque windows, a Massachusetts plate.
She felt her insides twist. That had to be them, following her for some reason. Some reason she didn’t want to know.
“Why do I have to go to this stupid class anyway?”
“Because it’s important.” She could barely concentrate on the argument, she was so anxious.
“It’s pointless.”
“If you... If you do well on the SAT you won’t have to take it again, think of it that way.”
“Lots of colleges are SAT-optional now. It’s not like when you were in high school.”
“Okay,” she said. She didn’t want to argue. Her mind was stuck on that black Suburban a couple of cars back. What the hell was it doing, were they doing — just intimidating her? Reminding her that she couldn’t make a move unobserved?