A Time for Mercy (Jake Brigance #3) - John Grisham Page 0,117

soon realize she’s pregnant and the gossip will begin. You can’t pay these bills, and it’s unrealistic to think the hospitals and doctors will back off. I want you to disappear, to move, to simply vanish from this area.”

“I can’t leave, not with Drew in jail and facin’ trial.”

“You can’t help Drew right now. Move somewhere not far away and lay low until the trial.”

“Where?”

“Oxford. It’s only an hour away. It’s a college town with lots of cheap apartments. We’ll find one that’s furnished. Summer is here and the students are gone. I have a couple of lawyer friends there and I’ll lean on them to help find a job or two. Forget these bills. The debt collectors can’t find you.”

“That’s the story of my life, Jake. Always runnin’.”

“There’s no reason to stay here, no family, no real friends.”

“What about Kiera’s doctor?”

“They have a nice hospital in Oxford, a regional, with plenty of good doctors. We’ll make sure she’s taken care of. That’s a priority.”

Her tears were gone, her eyes clear. “I’ll need another loan to get set up.”

“There’s another reason, Josie. She’ll have the baby sometime in September, after the trial and after everyone in Clanton knows about her pregnancy. If she has the baby in Oxford, few people here will know anything about it. Very few. Including the Kofers. They’ll be shocked when they learn about their grandchild and they’ll probably want nothing to do with it. However, as I’ve learned, it’s impossible to predict what people will do. There’s the chance that they might want some contact with the child. That cannot happen.”

“That will not happen.”

“We’ll do the adoption over there, in another judicial district. Kiera will be in another school and her new friends will know nothing about her pregnancy. Moving away is the best move for her, and for you too.”

“I don’t know what to do, Jake.”

“You’re a survivor, Josie. Get away from this place. Nothing good will happen to you and your daughter if you stay in this county. Trust me on this.”

She bit her lip and fought back more tears. Softly, she said, “Okay.”

* * *

—

CHANCELLOR REUBEN ATLEE’S fine old home was two blocks from Jake’s in central Clanton. It was old enough to have its own name, Maple Run, and the judge had lived there for decades. Late in the afternoon, Jake parked behind a large Buick and knocked on the screen door. Atlee was a notorious tightwad who still refused to install air-conditioning.

A voice called him inside and Jake stepped into the humid and sticky foyer. Judge Atlee appeared with two tumblers filled with brown liquid, his standard whiskey-sour toddy to end another hard day. He handed one to Jake and said, “Let’s sit on the porch.” They went outside where the air was noticeably lighter and settled into rockers.

Judge Atlee had ruled the chancery court for a long time and quietly kept his nose in most of the county’s business. His jurisdiction was family law, all the divorces, adoptions, plus will contests, land disputes, zoning matters, a long list of legal matters that almost never included jury trials. He was wise, fair, heavy-handed, and had no patience with windy or lazy lawyers.

He said, “I see you got stuck with the Gamble case.”

“Afraid so.” Jake sipped the whiskey, not his favorite, and wondered how he would explain this to Carla. It wouldn’t be that difficult. If Judge Atlee handed you a drink and said sit on the front porch, no lawyer could say no.

“Noose called me for advice. I said there was no other lawyer in the county who could handle the case.”

“Thanks for nothing.”

“It’s part of being a lawyer, Jake. You don’t always get to choose your clients.”

And why not? Why couldn’t he and every other lawyer say no to a client? “Well, I’m stuck with it.”

“I suppose you’re going with insanity.”

“Probably, but he shot him in cold blood.”

“Such a shame. It’s all so tragic. What a waste of life, for the deputy and the kid.”

“I doubt there will be much sympathy for the kid.”

Atlee took a sip and gazed at the rooftops down the hill. The roof of the Hocutt House was visible in the distance. “What’s a fair punishment, Jake? I don’t like the idea of putting children on trial for capital murder, but the deputy is just as dead regardless of who pulled the trigger. The killer has to be punished, and severely.”

“That’s the great question, isn’t it? But it doesn’t really matter. The town