Mary Jane has failed three math tests in a row.” It would be a cause for concern with any child. And with a child who could blurt out the answers to math problems in class before her teacher even had time to write them out on the board, it was especially worrisome.
“Is she doing it on purpose?” Marcie asked.
Juliet tried to concentrate on loosening the knot in her stomach. “Obviously,” she said. “The question is why, and what to do about it.”
“What does Mary Jane say?”
“That she’s not doing it on purpose.”
“She’s never lied to you before.”
The sky was black, with shades of navy and gray where the moon shone through. So much out there—unseen.
“I don’t think she’s lying now. She’s somehow convinced herself she can’t do the math,” Marcie added.
“We had her talk to the school counselor and Mary Jane answered all her questions like a happy, normal, well-adjusted kid.”
“What does Mrs. Cummings say?”
“That Mary Jane is troubled about something.” Juliet had been trying desperately not to think of her most recent phone conversation with the elementary-school principal. She’d suggested that Juliet look into some kind of special-education class that worked with children one-on-one to determine the extent of Mary Jane’s needs.
As if her daughter wasn’t already segregated enough by her differences from the other children.
“And you think she’s troubled about her father?”
Juliet didn’t know what else to think. “School’s always been a bit of a struggle, you know that,” Juliet said. “She’s too smart for her grade, too outspoken for her age, and she bores easily. But she’s always taken that in stride. It never really seemed to bother her, until the past few months—ever since the first conversation about her father came up again. She seems to have lost, at least to some degree, her sense of security.”
“Which is why you can’t tell Blake anything about her,” Marcie said. “Obviously Mary Jane comes first. And introducing a huge change into her life certainly isn’t going to enhance her security. Besides, for now, Blake needs something else from you far more than he needs to know that you had his baby eight years ago. He’s a client and should remain that way if you’re going to do your job and set him free. You tell him about Mary Jane now, and there’s no way you’d still be able to keep him on as a client. Things would be too personal.
“Think of it this way, Jules,” Marcie continued. “It’s not going to do him a hell of a lot of good to know he has a daughter if he’s locked up and can’t see her anyway.”
“Yeah.” She’d already told herself all the things that Marcie said. Still, the validation helped.
“Maybe after the case is over, and third grade is over, and I’ve been living there for a while, Mary Jane will be feeling secure enough for you to tell Blake about her.”
Maybe. But that thought struck as much terror in her heart as anything else.
ON FRIDAY, two weeks after his arraignment, Juliet was back in Blake’s office.
“I met Fred Manning coming up in the elevator,” she told him, holding the back of her black silk skirt down as she took her usual seat on his couch. It was beginning to seem routine, all in a day’s work, having her there.
She had a “usual” seat.
Careful, buddy, Blake warned himself. If there was one thing he knew, it was that it would be suicide to get too comfortable with Juliet McNeil. She was his attorney. Nothing more. They’d both decided to leave it that way before he even knew he needed an attorney.
“Fred’s a good guy,” he said now. “He’s been with us for years. My father hired him straight out of law school.”
“I know.” Juliet smiled. “He told me. He thinks the world of you.”
Blake shrugged, glanced around him at the mementos that were helping him more than his staff would ever know.
“Lee Anne does, too,” Juliet added. “I get the feeling pretty much everyone around here does.”
He took the chair adjacent to her, uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. “They’re a good group.”
“It’s important, Blake.” Her gaze was dead serious as she looked him in the eye. “We’re going to need every single one of them as character witnesses. I don’t care if it takes six months to parade them all through court, we’re going to paint a picture of you the jury will never forget.”
Okay. He’d handle the embarrassment. It was a small price to pay.
“I have a list of all the things I’m going to need,” she continued, pulling a typed document from her satchel. “This and anything else you can think of that might show any connection at all between your father and the other Semaphor board members, James, or any of James’s other investors. The names are all there for you—you can do computer searches. I’m going to need bank accounts, with every single statement from the past six years….”
The list of documents was overwhelming. And he’d have every one of them in her hands before morning. Blake kept immaculate records, as had his father before him.
Unfortunately, there was very little he knew that might help her. To the best of his knowledge, Walter had never had any dealings with Eaton James, other than their time together on the board of Semaphor and the Eaton Estates investment.
“You know, it’s odd that James waited until the end of his trial to expose all of this,” he told her. More than anything, he kept coming back to this fact during the long nighttime hours.
“If what he says can stand up in court, then why didn’t he come clean from the beginning? I know you said he was hoping for complete absolution, but forgery is a far lesser charge.” Something else Blake had learned on the Internet. “From what I read, since he’d never been charged before, he would’ve gotten off with probation.”
“I’m impressed,” Juliet said. “You’ve done your homework.” And then she tilted her head. “Of course, you’re paying me to know that stuff. All you had to do was ask.” Her smile took any sting out of the words.
“I wasn’t sure you’d answer your cell at four in the morning.”
He hadn’t realized quite how telling that statement had been until her eyes softened with a compassion he wasn’t sure he wanted.
Juliet McNeil was his attorney, he reminded himself. He couldn’t afford to need anything from her, other than legal services. Period. Too much was at stake.
“In answer to your question, it’s very possible that there’s something more in what James was saying, and it’s my job to find out what that is.” She paused, and then, her eyes narrowing, said, “It’s also possible that he was just so certain that he could fend off the fraud charges, he wasn’t going to risk muddying his reputation if he didn’t have to.”
