racking her brain to recall that morning. She draws a blank. “I don’t even remember getting up that day,” she says.
I nod. “The doctor said that was likely, but that your short-term memory might return over time. What about longer-term memory?”
“I think I’m okay,” she says. “Test me.”
“Do you remember when you said you would worship and adore me forever?”
She smiles and manages a very slight shake of her head. “Nope. Drawing a blank.”
“Laurie, does the name Jimmy Childs mean anything to you?”
She thinks for a few moments. “Should it? Because if I should know it, I’m failing the test.”
“He’s the guy Marcus said was the shooter.”
“Marcus is after him?”
I nod. “Yes. He didn’t take too kindly to somebody shooting you.”
“Marcus will kill him, Andy.”
“I’ve heard worse ideas,” I say. “But Pete thinks Marcus might have his hands full.” I go on to tell her what Pete related about Child’s résumé. Laurie is as baffled as to who could be behind this as I am.
We’re interrupted by a team of therapists coming in to work with Laurie. Feeling incredibly relieved by her condition, I take the opportunity to go down to the Tara Foundation, to check out how things are going, and to find out from Willie Miller how Tara and Waggy are doing.
I am delighted to find out that he has brought the two of them with him to the foundation, rather than leaving them alone at home. They like hanging out with the rescued dogs, especially Waggy, since it gives him an unlimited number of wrestling partners.
Tara seems a little out of sorts. This is probably the longest she’s gone without seeing me in a few years. I hardly ever take vacations, and if I do I bring her with me. I’m going to have to provide a ton of biscuits and some serious two-handed petting to get back in her good graces for this one.
Things at the foundation are going well. Willie and his wife, Sondra, have placed eleven dogs in homes this week. I feel guilty that I haven’t been helping out, and Willie feels guilty that he hasn’t visited Laurie, so we call ourselves even.
Willie of course wants to be brought up to date about everything, and I do so. He is not worried about Marcus’s ability to handle Jimmy Childs or anyone else on this planet. Willie holds a black belt in karate and is afraid of no one, but he once told me he couldn’t last ten seconds with Marcus.
“Maybe me and Sondra should be careful,” he says. “Waggy the psycho dog is bad luck.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, that woman had him, and she got killed in the explosion. Then Laurie had him, and she got shot.”
Willie is not smiling when he says this, and he shouldn’t be. He’s pointing out the coincidence that two people who seemed to be in control of Waggy got killed. I am angry at myself that I didn’t even think of it.
I don’t believe in coincidences, especially where murders are involved. They might exist, but it doesn’t make sense to act as if they do.
I tell Willie to be careful, and not to tell anyone that he has Waggy.
Just in case.
IT’S TIME FOR ME TO TALK TO MY CLIENT.
There is no sense in our trying to construct a strategy to counter the prosecution before we know Steven’s version of the events. And time is a-wasting…
Kevin makes the arrangements, though I go to see Steven by myself. I find the first significant meeting like this, the one in which the client is called on to state the facts as he sees them, to go better when it’s just one-on-one. Clients seem to open up more.
Steven is clearly relieved to see me and hear that I am staying on the case. He expresses the proper concern for Laurie, but he is certainly more focused on his own predicament. I have to admit, if I were facing life in a seven-by-ten-foot cell, I’d be a tad self-centered as well.
What Steven has been living is not a life. He spends twenty-three hours a day in his cell, eats food just south of miserable, and is treated with a complete lack of respect and dignity. Any ability to control any part of his own existence has been taken away from him, and the desperation in his eyes is the same I have seen countless times with countless clients. I imagine it’s sort of like being a Cubs fan.