Halfway to the Stafford house, David almost turned back. He secretly hoped that Jenny would not be home so he would not have to face her, and it was with a mixture of hope and dread that he saw the lights shining in the living room when he pulled into the driveway.
Jenny answered the door after the first ring. She was barefoot and wore a yellow shirt over a pair of faded jeans. The strain of the past months made her seem older, but no less beautiful.
“Can I come in?” David asked hesitantly, almost apologetically.
Jenny was stunned by his appearance. He was heavier, unkempt, and washed-out. There was no sign of the energy that had been such a vital part of him.
“I don’t know,” she answered. Her voice trembled. She felt crazy inside, pulled in so many directions she thought she would come apart.
“You have every right…” David started. “Jenny, I have to see you. It’s about Larry.”
She drew back a step and studied David’s face for clues. The odor of alcohol was strong. He looked destroyed.
“What about Larry?”
“Can I come in?” he repeated.
Jenny paused for a second, then led the way to the living room. David watched her walk. Her back was rigid, her steps precise, as if she were prepared to flee. Her reticence depressed him, but he should have expected it. Once during the ride over he had fantasized a tear-stained reunion, with Jenny throwing herself into his arms. He had been a fool even to think of such a thing. He was grateful she would so much as talk to him.
“What about Larry?” she asked again when they were seated on one of the living-room sofas.
“Jenny, he may be innocent.”
Jenny looked bewildered.
“I have a client, a man I am representing on another matter. He has confessed to killing Darlene Hersch.”
Jenny shook her head as if to clear it. She was off balance. She had always believed that Larry was innocent, but what would this all mean for her?
“I don’t understand. Someone else confessed to killing that woman?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you telling me this? Why haven’t you gone to the police?”
“It’s very complicated. The confession, it was told to me in confidence. It’s a privileged communication. By law I can’t reveal it to anyone without my client’s permission.”
“Will Larry…? Does this mean he’ll go free?”
“Not unless my client allows me to tell the police.”
“But surely…he wouldn’t let an innocent man stay in prison.”
“You have to understand. This man…it’s a game to him. He gets pleasure out of hurting people. He confessed to me because he knows I can’t tell the authorities. He told me to torment me. I’m not even certain that he’s telling me the truth.”
“Wait a minute. What do you mean it might not be the truth?”
“He did this once before. Confessed to committing a crime. That time he retracted the confession. It could all be a practical joke.”
David saw the confusion on Jenny’s face. He looked away and caught his reflection in the window glass. It startled him. He looked weak and pathetic. The type of person who would be susceptible to the meanest practical joke.
“If this is all some kind of joke, why did you come here? Why are you telling me this?”
“Don’t, Jenny. I had to talk to someone. I couldn’t keep it inside any longer. And I don’t think it is a joke. There’s something about this man. I know he’s capable of killing.”
“But why me, David? Why did you come to me?”
She was watching him intently, searching with her question for far more than she had asked. David tried to read her eyes. He was afraid to say what was in his heart. Afraid of making a fool of himself. Afraid he had already lost her. But he knew that this was the moment to speak, not evade, and he gathered his courage.
“I came to you because I still love you. I never stopped.”
David paused and Jenny saw that he was crying.
“Jenny, I’ve been a mess since the trial. I’ve lost my self-respect, and I’ve lost interest in everything that ever meant anything to me. But not my love for you. I just couldn’t face you.”
David looked away. Jenny felt as if a dam had broken inside her, setting free emotions she had thought she would never feel again. She reached up and touched David’s cheek.
“God, Jenny,” he sobbed. She held him tight.
“It’s all right,” she whispered, rocking him back and forth.
“I didn’t know what to do and I had no one I could go to.”
“You always had me, David. Always.”
“I couldn’t come to you. Not after what I did to Larry.”
“You didn’t do anything to Larry. Larry and I did something to you. We lied to you and used you.”
David sat up and held her by the shoulders. “It was wrong. What I did was wrong. We both know that. I should never have represented Larry feeling the way I do about you. Now we have to get him out of prison.”
“I still think you should tell the police,” Jenny said firmly.
David shook his head. “You don’t understand. Since the confession was made in confidence, nothing I reveal could ever be used in court. He could deny he ever made a confession, and there would be nothing we could do.”
“Who is this man? Who killed Darlene Hersch?”
David hesitated. Even now his legal training made him rebel at the thought of violating the code of ethics.
“Thomas Gault,” he said finally.
“Oh, my God. I knew Julie Webster. That was horrible.”
“I know, Jenny. And I’m the man responsible for putting Gault back on the street so he could kill again.”
“There must be something we can do.”
“I’ve thought about it and thought about it. I can’t find any way out. Anything I initiate will…”
David paused. The germ of an idea came to him. What if…? David started pacing back and forth. Jenny watched him. There was a fire in his eyes that had burned constantly in the old David. It made her feel good to see it again and to think that she may have had something to do with rekindling it.
Terry Conklin scanned the diners in the all-night restaurant and spotted David in a booth toward the back. David was sipping from his second cup of coffee when Conklin reached him.
“This better be good,” the investigator said. “I was sound asleep. Rose is really pissed.”
“I’m sorry.”
Conklin was going to say something else, but one look at David stopped him. He had not seen the lawyer since Stafford’s trial, and the change in his friend’s appearance was startling. David’s face was puffy, his eyes were bloodshot, and his suit was creased and stained.
A waitress appeared and Conklin ordered coffee. As soon as she walked off, David said,
“I want to hire you.”
“I’m pretty busy, Dave.”
“I know, but I’m desperate. I’m willing to pay twice your regular rate and cover the cost of anyone you hire to take up the slack on your cases.”
“This is that important?”
David nodded.
“Who’s the client?”
“Me.”
“What’s this about?” Conklin asked cautiously. If David was in some kind of trouble, it would explain his appearance, but Conklin could not imagine David’s doing anything illegal or unethical.
“A client of mine told me some information in confidence. I have to know if he was telling me the truth or if he’s lying to me.”