A Time for Mercy (Jake Brigance #3) - John Grisham Page 0,108

it over for some time. At first I thought it was a ridiculous idea, and I thought of all the reasons to let it go. You’re the de facto attorney for the family. How would it look for you to use your inside position to get the baby? How would the town react?”

“That’s the least of my worries.”

“What type of relationship, if any, would the child have with Kiera and Josie? What about the Kofers? I’m sure they’ll be horrified when they learn that Stuart left a grandchild behind. I doubt if they’ll want anything to do with the child, but you never know. I’ve thought of a lot of issues and a lot of reasons not to do it. But then I keep thinking about the child. Someone, some lucky couple somewhere, will get the magical phone call. They’ll drive to the hospital and leave with a little baby boy. It will be all theirs. Why can’t it be us, Jake? We’re just as qualified as anyone else.”

From the rear seat a sweet, sleepy little voice said, “Anybody thinking about a potty break?”

Jake quickly said, “We are now,” and began looking at exit signs.

* * *

—

THEY WERE ON the beach at dusk, ambling along in the surf with Hanna splashing and chattering nonstop as she held hands with both grandparents. Jake and Carla held hands too and fell behind, happy at the sight of their little girl being smothered in love. Carla wanted to talk but Jake was not ready for another discussion about expanding the family.

“I have an idea,” she said.

“I’m sure you’re about to share it.”

Ignoring him, she said, “Drew is sitting in jail every day, falling further behind in his education. He’s been there since the end of March with no tutoring. Josie said he’s already two years behind.”

“At least.”

“Could you arrange for me to go to the jail two or three days a week and tutor the kid?”

“Do you have the time?”

“I have the summer, Jake, and I can always find the time. We can ask your mother to keep Hanna, she never says no, and we can also find a babysitter to help.”

“Or I can babysit. The way my practice is drying up I’ll have plenty of time.”

“Seriously. I can get the textbooks from the school and at least get him on some type of schedule.”

“I don’t know. Ozzie would have to approve it and he’s not too cooperative these days. Maybe I can ask Judge Noose.”

“Would it be safe? I’ve never been to the jail.”

“You’re lucky. I’m not sure I like the idea. You’d be close to some rough characters and you’d be around some cops who are not my best friends these days. Ozzie would have to take some precautions and he’d probably balk.”

“Will you talk to him?”

“Sure, if that’s what you want.”

“No chance he could leave the jail for a few hours each week to meet somewhere else?”

“Not a chance.”

Hanna and her grandparents had turned around and were getting close. Mrs. McCullough said, “How about a glass of wine while I get dinner ready?”

“Sounds delightful,” Jake said. “We’ve eaten two meals in the car today and I’m ready for some real food.”

26

After five days of walking the beach, swimming, reading, sleeping late and napping, and getting slaughtered in chess by Mr. McCullough, Jake was ready for a break. Early on the morning of May 31 he hugged Carla, said goodbye to his in-laws, and happily drove away, eager to spend the next five hours in blissful solitude.

The Kids Advocacy Foundation had an office on M Street near Farragut Square in central Washington. The building was a 1970s-style block of gray brick with five floors and far too few windows. The directory in the lobby listed the names of dozens of associations, nonprofits, coalitions, federations, brotherhoods, and so on, everything from AMERICAN RAISIN GROWERS to the DISABLED RURAL MAIL CARRIERS.

Jake got off the elevator on the fourth floor and found the right door. He stepped inside to a cramped reception room where a small dapper gentleman of about seventy sat behind a neat desk and greeted him with a smile. “You must be Mr. Brigance, all the way from Mississippi.”

“I am, yes,” Jake said, stepping forward with an outstretched hand.

“I’m Roswell, the boss around here,” he said, standing. He wore a tiny red bowtie and a crisp white shirt. “A pleasure to meet you.” They shook hands.

Jake, in khakis and a button-down, no tie, no socks, said, “And nice to