Page 55 of The Accomplice
A deep breath. I drank in that feeling, that strength that I was drawing from Kate. I stood, and together Harry and I made our way to the defense table.
There was another convention in US courts – retired judges did not go back into legal practice. It was more or less observed, with only a few examples of judges going back into battle for old clients after they had retired from the bench. Harry had no intention of getting back into real practice. He was a consultant at the firm. That was it.
Or so he thought.
‘I can’t do this on my own. I need your help,’ I said.
‘I’m right here, Eddie,’ he said as we took our seats at the defense table.
‘No, I mean, I need you to take second chair.’
‘But I shouldn’t …’
‘There’s no law that says you can’t. We’ll file your papers this afternoon. You’re under my insurance until then, as I’m lead counsel.’
‘Eddie, it’s been twenty years. I don’t know—’
‘You can cross-examine better than me. I need you. I can’t do this alone.’
I spread out the Miller files on the desk in front of us and two iPads with all the files in digital form. He gazed down at my trembling fingers. From his briefcase, Harry took out a yellow legal pad, a Pelikan fountain pen and a bottle of blue ink. He set the pen on the page, looked at it. Looked at me.
He nodded and took up the pen. Made a horizontal stroke at the top of the page, and then a vertical line, cutting the page in half. Right side for notes of what the DA or witnesses said, left side of the page for his counterpoints. It was advocacy 101.
Harry reached out and placed his hand over the top of mine, gripped my quivering fingers. When he spoke, his voice cracked with the strain.
‘Let’s win this one for Kate,’ he said.
CHAPTER THIRTY
EDDIE
‘Where is he ?’ I asked.
‘He’ll be here. He wouldn’t miss it,’ said Harry.
The prosecution team had arrived. Drew White and a host of assistant DAs, all male, all in their late twenties, all looking to make a name for themselves with this case. The District Attorney’s office boasted a wide selection of capable and intelligent female assistant district attorneys, and not one of them had been given the opportunity to shine in this case. White had carefully selected his support team. All guys, all friends, all of them willing to overlook and, if need be, cover up any misconduct White may commit while trying the case. None of them thought of the victims. All they cared about was writing the name of this case on their resume before they sent it to a Wall Street law firm that paid starting salaries in the mid-to-high six figures.
Behind the prosecution table was a row of cops and feds. Bill Seong sat at the end of the aisle. It was his case really, and it could have gone to federal court. I had a feeling if they caught the Sandman, Seong would insist the US Attorney’s office deal with it under their federal jurisdiction. But this wasn’t the Sandman. This was the next best thing. And Seong was smart to let the local DA handle it. This case was a risk-free experiment. A free run at the evidence with no consequences for him. If the case bombed and Carrie Miller got an acquittal, Seong could wash his hands of the whole thing and blame the locals in state court. Then he could make sure the same mistakes would not be repeated in the Sandman trial in federal court. If White managed to get a conviction, Seong could take full credit.
‘He’s got to be here somewhere ?’ I said.
Harry got up and turned, scanning the faces of the crowded benches behind us. A hand went up at the back. I stood and saw, at the very corner of the courtroom, Otto Peltier with his hand in the air. We’d talked on the phone after the hearing yesterday. He had been the one fighting for Carrie for a long time and he was invested in this case. Plus, as long as Carrie was missing, so was his money. I liked Otto, but I also couldn’t help thinking he wouldn’t be putting all this time and effort into finding Carrie if she had already paid him the million dollars in legal fees. He had been out yesterday checking around motels, small hotels and hostels in Brooklyn, Queens and the Bronx. Anywhere that took cash for a bed and didn’t ask questions. The kind of place someone with Carrie’s profile might hide. He’d put two hundred miles on the car and made more than a hundred phone calls – a lot of work, but there was a seven-figure pay-out in the wind.
So far, no sign of her.
‘I’ll go talk to him,’ said Harry.
‘Don’t mention Kate.’
‘I won’t, but he’s going to ask where she is.’
‘Tell him she’s out with Bloch chasing down a lead. Ask him for a list of the places he’s tried.’
I watched as Harry made his way to the doors of the courtroom, and beckoned Peltier outside.
I waited.
There’s a lot of waiting in court. You’re at the mercy of the legal system, and the judge’s golf schedule. I folded my arms, bracing my hands. Anything to stop them shaking. The clerk caught my eye, held up a hand to indicate five minutes.
