A Time for Mercy (Jake Brigance #3) - John Grisham Page 0,18

the criminal cases were settled with plea bargains, thus avoiding trials. Small tort cases—car wrecks, slip-and-falls, dog bites—were negotiated with the insurance companies. Usually, if a Ford County lawyer stumbled onto a big civil case he rushed to Tupelo or Oxford and associated a real trial lawyer, one experienced in litigation and not terrified of juries.

Jake still dreamed of changing this, and at the age of thirty-seven he was trying to establish a reputation as a lawyer who gambled and got verdicts. Without a doubt his most glorious moment had been the not-guilty verdict for Carl Lee Hailey five years earlier, and he had been certain in its aftermath that the big cases would find their way to his door. They had not. He still threatened to try every dispute, and this worked well, but the rewards were still paltry.

The Smallwood case, though, was different. It had the potential of being the biggest civil case in the county’s history, and Jake was the lead counsel. He had filed the lawsuit thirteen months earlier and had since spent half his time working on it. He was now ready for the trial and yelling at the defense lawyers for a date.

Harry Rex had not mentioned the role of the county’s part-time public defender, and with good reason. The current P.D. was a bashful rookie whose early job approval ratings were about as low as they could get. He took the job because no one else wanted it, and because the position had been vacant for a year, and because the county reluctantly agreed to increase the salary to $2,500 a month. No one expected him to survive another year. He had yet to try a case all the way to a jury’s verdict and showed no interest in doing so. And, most important, he had never even watched a capital murder trial.

Not surprisingly, Carla immediately felt sympathy for the woman. Even though she had liked Stu Kofer, she also knew that some off-duty cops could behave as badly as anyone. And if domestic violence was a factor, the facts would only become more complicated.

But she was wary of another high-profile, controversial case. For three years after the trial of Carl Lee Hailey, the Brigance family had lived with a deputy parked in front of their house at night, and threatening phone calls, and hateful glares from strangers in stores. Now, in another nice home and with that case even further behind them, they were slowly adjusting to a normal life. Jake still carried a registered gun in his car, which she frowned on, but the surveillance was gone. They were determined to enjoy the present, plan for the future, and forget the past. The last case Carla wanted was one that might attract headlines.

As they were chatting quietly, Miss Hanna appeared in her pajamas, sleepy-eyed and clutching, still, her favorite stuffed cub, one that she had never slept without. The cub was threadbare and far past its useful shelf life, and Hanna was nine years old and needed to move on, but a serious discussion about such a transition was being postponed. She crawled into her father’s lap and closed her eyes again. Like her mother, she preferred a quiet entry into the morning with as little noise as possible.

Her parents stopped talking about the legal stuff and switched to Hanna’s Sunday school lesson, one she had not yet read. Carla disappeared and returned with the study guide, and Jake began reading about Jonah and the Whale, one of his least favorite Bible stories. Hanna wasn’t impressed with it either and seemed to doze. Carla busied herself in the kitchen with breakfast—oatmeal for Hanna, poached eggs and wheat toast for the adults.

They ate quietly and enjoyed the peaceful moments together. Cartoons on television were usually prohibited on Sundays, and Hanna didn’t think to ask. She ate little, as usual, and reluctantly left the table for a bath.

At 9:45, they were dressed in their Sunday finest and headed for worship at the First Presbyterian Church. Once loaded in the car, Jake couldn’t find his sunglasses, and hustled back inside, turning off the ever-present alarm system as he entered.

The phone on the kitchen wall started ringing and the caller ID flashed a number—same area code but a different prefix that looked familiar. Could be Van Buren County, next door. No name, caller unknown, but Jake had a hunch. He stared at the phone, either unable or unwilling to answer, because something told