making a clean escape. I halted and plastered on a smile. “Hi, Uncle Colin.” I kissed his ruddy cheek and then spotted another man inside my uncle’s den.
“Paul, what a surprise! I thought you were in D.C. before the Judicial Committee.”
The tall man stepped forward to the doorway and pressed a cool kiss to my forehead. “The approval process is on hold while the senators go home to make sure their constituents know they exist.”
I chuckled. My godfather, Paul Schofield, an U.S. appellate judge, had received the nod from the President to be the next U.S. Supreme Court Justice, but the approval process was taking forever.
“How much longer, do you think?”
His shrug was casual but I could see the tension in his lean, tanned face.
“Who knows? Perhaps when they’ve determined I was bottle-fed and wore cloth diapers.”
“I can’t believe how invasive this inquiry must be for you.”
However, if ever a man had a clean slate for prying eyes, it would be my godfather: a state prosecutor who became an extremely successful personal-injury attorney, married well like my uncle, a U.S. District judge and now on the appellate bench. As cogent and articulate as his written opinions were, he would be a tremendous Supreme Court Justice, perhaps going down in history as famous as Justice Learned Hand.
“Katherine, there’s something we would like to discuss with you. Could you step inside for a moment?
This sounded like trouble and I had already had my fair share in the span of two hours. I dragged in a deep breath before moving into the den. I had always hated this room and the heads of dead animals staring at me from the walls. I understood Colin’s need to escape from his rarefied world married to a Rochelle, but couldn’t he hunt with a camera rather than a gun?
“What’s up?” I folded my arms and studied the two men as they glanced at each other.
What a contrasting pair. My great-uncle’s stocky build had served him well as a college football player on a scholarship, but age had thickened his middle and transformed his lantern jaw into being jowly. Still, my uncle remained a good-looking man. His thick tawny-gold hair had silvered without thinning, lending him a genteel look. Blessed with a generous mouth, an easy disposition and twinkling hazel eyes, he had cut quite a charming swath in social and political circles until he had landed my great-aunt as his wife. Only his splotchy complexion betrayed his recurrent escape from being henpecked via one too many bourbons.
On the other hand, time had weathered Paul’s craggy features into handsomeness. Underneath heavy brows, his deep-set gray eyes glinted with intelligence. White frosted his ebony hair at the temples. Italian-tailored wool suits transformed his rawboned frame into old-world elegance.
Still, the men had forged a bond. One a public defender, the other a prosecutor, they had met at opposite sides of the bench and litigated their way up to fame and fortune. Only Colin’s legal career had stalled after a stint as Florida’s Attorney General.
Colin cleared his throat. “Katherine, what Paul hasn’t mentioned is that the appellate investigation is now focusing on his family and immediate acquaintances.”
“That’s because Paul is too good to be true.”
“Exactly.” Colin nodded, his expression grave. “We need a man like Paul on the highest court bench.”
“Absolutely.”
“That’s why I have to add a special plea to Hilary’s request that you not represent Lloyd Silber.”
Betrayal sliced deep, the hurt curdling in my heart. Of all the people in my life I thought would understand the need to find justice for the wrongly accused, it should have been Uncle Colin.
He had been my father figure, the man I had emulated. His tales about cases he had heard on the bench had been my inspiration to go to law school.
“Don’t look so stricken, dear.” Colin awkwardly patted me on my shoulder. “I know it’s been unfair what you have gone through, that you’re a good girl.”
I cleared my throat. “Woman, Uncle Colin. I’m a woman now.”
He turned even a deeper shade of red. “Of course you are, dear. But you’re just getting back on your feet, building a practice. Taking on what will be a news-headliner case would do more harm than good right now.”
My lips were stiff. “And be an embarrassment for Paul.”
Paul shook his head. “Don’t ascribe sentiments to me. I’m very proud of how you’ve pulled yourself together. But you need to work up to handling the big stuff. Even Colin and I paid our dues before trying murder cases. In the hands of an inexperienced attorney, more harm than good may be done. A man’s life is at stake.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Katherine! Don’t take that tone with Paul. If you want to blame anyone, blame me. I was the one who thought we should discuss the matter with you.”
But behind Colin I felt the presence of my aunt, manipulating the strings, to give me a double whammy. I turned and walked to the door.
“Where are you going?” Concern edged Colin’s voice. I knew he loved me, but when it came to choosing between me or Hilary and Paul, I knew the answer wouldn’t be me.
“Oh, I thought I’d hang out at the county jail and maybe watch some real attorneys at work during arraignment hearings since, according to you, I don’t qualify as one.”
I shrugged. “And while I’m there, I just might arrange to meet with Lloyd Silber.” Without waiting for Colin’s reply, I went down the hallway.
I couldn’t leave fast enough. The house had never been my home.
The afternoon passed in a blur. I first contacted and met with Meredith Silber at the couple’s town house in North Palm Beach. A petite, elegant woman, Meredith could speak with me in private for only a brief period of time. Family and friends filled the rooms and kept interrupting any attempt at conversation. Thank God, I was able to sit with my knees together during the crucial interview. Otherwise, Meredith would’ve noticed that they were quaking from nerves.
However, I held myself together and came away with her quiet plea to at least meet with her husband. After checking in with my office and telling my partners about the possible case, I drove to the jail and took a seat in one of the facility’s conference rooms. As I waited at the utilitarian table for the guards to bring Lloyd in, I wrinkled my nose.
The meeting room smelled the same as ever. No matter how strong the cleanser used, it could never erase the pungent smell of sweat, anger and fear.
Then a guard opened the door and let Lloyd in. I sat back, startled by the change in his appearance. In the course of two weeks, when I last saw him at a social function, the director had aged considerably. His brown eyes were tired with deep grainy circles of black under them. A heavy five-o’clock shadow stood out against the pallor of his skin. However, his background as a naval officer left its stamp in the way he sat ramrod straight in his chair.
Life had dealt him a number of hard knocks, but Lloyd always brimmed with
