"We'll have to bump it back into September," Quinn said. Under no circumstances did he want this judge sentencing Annie. "I'm scheduled to start the case of
Commonwealth v. O'Rourke
on August eighteenth. It's expected to last at least two weeks. There's no way I can be ready to try this case until the middle of September."
Judge Strackman locked his eyes on Quinn for a moment, peering over reading glasses, as if questioning Quinn's integrity. But Quinn also knew that deep down, Strackman didn't want the hassle of a retrial either. "I'd hate to leave this as unfinished business for my successor," said Strackman, half-convincingly. "But after I leave the bench on the last day of August, the only judging I plan on doing is a wine-tasting contest here and there."
Quinn just shrugged his shoulders. Eventually they all agreed to set the case for September fifteenth, a date that would necessitate a different judge. Quinn thought he detected Strackman fighting off a smile.
Quinn would have been smiling too if he had not just guaranteed that his sister would be spending at least three months in jail before her case would even be heard.
65
Quinn walked into his condo that afternoon and found Sierra sprawled out on his brown leather couch, listening to her iPod and typing on her computer. She looked up at Quinn expectantly, worry creasing her forehead. She'd known there was a good chance her mom would have her bail revoked.
Quinn placed his briefcase by the door and took a place next to Sierra on the couch. She put her computer on the coffee table and took out her earphones. Without saying a word, Quinn could tell she already knew. Maybe she had been watching television or surfing the Internet. Maybe she just surmised it from the fact that Annie had not returned with Quinn.
"We lost," Quinn said. "Your mom had to go to jail pending her trial." He saw the pain register on Sierra's thin face as her fears were confirmed. He wanted to reach out and touch her, maybe even give her a hug, but somehow it didn't seem right. "It's only for a few months, Sierra. She'll be free for good once this trial is over."
Sierra stared down at the carpet, tears pooling in her eyes. She brushed them away with the back of her hand, breaking Quinn's heart in the process.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
She nodded. "Thanks for letting me stay here, Uncle Quinn," she said. Awkwardly, she leaned over to hug him. He held her, concerned at how thin and frail she felt.
"We're going to get through this," he said. "One day soon, you and your mom will be together again."
Sierra didn't respond, and Quinn wondered what was going on inside her young head. Sierra was no longer a preadolescent, a child who took assurances at face value. She knew it was possible her mom could spend the rest of her life in jail. And now Quinn would have to tell her about Annie's attempt to obtain fake visas. He didn't want Sierra hearing about that from someone else.
Quinn took a deep breath and, in the softest voice possible, explained to Sierra that her mom had made a big mistake.
Later that afternoon, Quinn ducked his head into his bedroom, a room he now referred to as "Sierra's room." Sierra was sitting on the bed, watching a movie on her computer.
"I'm going to the office for a few hours," Quinn said. "You gonna be okay?"
"I'm fine," Sierra said. Her voice carried less melancholy than it had earlier in the day.
"I'll be back in time for visiting hours for your mom."
"Okay."
"If you need anything to eat, help yourself."
Sierra looked at him and smiled thinly. "I'll be fine, Uncle Quinn. Don't worry about me."
"Okay."
But he did worry. He worried nonstop until he arrived at the office and Melanie started barking out instructions. She handed him pink phone messages and a stack of prioritized e-mails she had printed out. She followed him into the office and started discussing calendar issues before he could even sit in his chair. She said that she had personally talked to Catherine O'Rourke earlier that day when Catherine had called collect.
"You can't lead her on anymore, Quinn. If you're going to withdraw from the case, you need to let her know."
"Right."
Lastly, Melanie started running through the media requests. Quinn rejected them all, gun-shy after his interview on
The Early Show
. It wasn't about trying the case in the press anymore; it was about protecting Sierra's privacy. The best way to do that was not to comment.
"And," said Melanie, "Mr. Espinoza wants to see you."
Quinn rubbed a hand over his tired face. "Close the door," he said. "Have a seat."
Melanie closed the door and sat down in front of his desk. "Are you going to fire me?" she asked.
"Are you kidding?"
She shrugged. "You never do this. I figured it must be pretty important."
"It is." Quinn shifted in his seat and picked up a paper clip to keep his hands busy while he carefully selected his words. "I need to stay on Catherine O'Rourke's case. I've been thinking this weekend about how much she needs me. Her lead counsel is a good lawyer, but he doesn't know much about the insanity defense." He paused. He had never been one to bare his soul to anyone, much less his assistant.
"This is why I went to law school, Melanie. Not to represent these white-collar criminals but to help people like Catherine. Frankly, until Annie got in trouble, I had pretty much lost sight of that."
Melanie looked a little uncomfortable, and Quinn didn't blame her. This was certainly out of character for him.
"The firm told me that they didn't want me handling both Catherine's case and Annie's case because they didn't think I could carry my weight financially--"
"That's ridiculous," Melanie interjected. "You've been one of the highest--"
"Hang on," Quinn said. "Let me finish. They let me take Catherine O'Rourke's case when we all thought Annie was going to plead out. But now, with what happened to Sierra, Annie can't take that deal. And when the judge tried to set an early trial date for Annie, I used Catherine's case as an excuse to push Annie's trial back. Long story short, I locked myself into both."
"Good," Melanie said. "I never wanted to withdraw from Catherine O'Rourke's case in the first place."
"My question," Quinn continued, "is this: if the firm tries to force me to drop O'Rourke's case and I refuse, will you step out with me if I start my own firm?"
"They'd be idiots to make you do that," Melanie insisted. "But I'd be with you in a heartbeat."
"Even if I couldn't pay you the first few weeks?"
She thought about it, undoubtedly running budget numbers in her head. Quinn knew it was unfair to ask her to do this, but it would take him a few weeks just to get a line of credit established.
"Same salary and benefits as here?" Melanie asked.
"Sure."
"And a big bonus at the end of the year to make up for not getting a salary the first two weeks?"
"We can talk about a bonus."
"I'm in," said Melanie. "When do we start?"
Ten minutes later, Robert Espinoza closed the door and parked himself in the same chair that Melanie had occupied. His freshly pressed slacks nearly crinkled as he crossed his legs.
"I'm sorry to hear about Sierra," he said.
"Thanks. She'll be all right."
"Rumor has it that you told Judge Strackman you were committed to a trial date in Catherine O'Rourke's case."
"I did," Quinn said.
"I thought we had an understanding about that," Espinoza said.
"We did, but I changed my mind. I can't just cut and run on a client who's looking at the death penalty, not when her other lawyer is a novice on insanity pleas."
"And Annie no longer wants to plead out her case in light of what happened to Sierra?" Espinoza asked.
"That's correct. But, Robert, listen--"
"Quinn,"
Espinoza said sharply, "I didn't come to argue. Is your mind made up about staying on the O'Rourke case?"
"Yes."
Espinoza stood and looked down at Quinn. He pursed his lips and hesitated for a moment, apparently measuring his words.
"Law partnerships, Quinn, are about more than just big bonus checks. Sometimes your partners need you. Sometimes you sacrifice for them knowing that one day, they'll do the same for you."
Espinoza took a deep breath, giving Quinn a chance to catch up. "You'd better win those cases, Quinn. Both of them. The firm's reputation is on the line."
"Does that mean--?"
"I said 'both of them,' Quinn. You're a smart enough lawyer to figure that out."
Espinoza turned and left the office, leaving a flabbergasted Quinn. Quinn's partners had come through for him. They would carry Quinn this year; some other year he would carry them.
Strangely, he felt like crying.
66
Two nights later, after Quinn and Sierra visited Annie, Quinn felt the urge to hit the town. He loved Sierra, but being a surrogate father was smothering him. He needed a little space, a few hours in the city.
Sierra said she would be fine. "I'm thirteen, Uncle Quinn. A lot of my friends are babysitting."
Quinn left the condo and headed down the interior moving sidewalks of the complex, toward the MGM Grand. In truth, he wanted to go gamble and unwind from a stressful day. As a bonus, he could net a few thousand bucks if the fates were with him, which of course they hadn't been for about six months. But he knew an hour at the high-stakes table would turn into two and then three. If it went well, he could be there until midmorning, and if it went bad, he'd stay even longer trying to get back to where he started.
Instead, he decided to walk down the sidewalk of the Vegas strip, lost in a river of tourists and thrill seekers and young singles on the hunt--cameras flashing and skin showing and huge neon signs pulsating. Some people relaxed at the ocean or a mountain retreat; Quinn relaxed in the midst of a Vegas mob. The teeming electricity of the city would calm his nerves.
When he arrived at the front of the Grand, he shuffled along with the flow of foot traffic, lost in his thoughts and the overwhelming challenges facing him that seemed as relentless as the Vegas heat.
Catherine's case presented the most straightforward problem: how to win. She was, in all likelihood, the Avenger of Blood. At first, Quinn had had his doubts, but the theory recently pieced together by Rosemarie Mancini made sense.
Catherine's personality had probably fractured during her undergrad experience at William and Mary, creating the Avenger and lodging it in her subconscious. When it surfaced several years later, it carried with it the references to the blood avengers from Catherine's comparative religion class. Rosemarie believed that the Avenger personality became active when Catherine started following Annie Newberg's case--a sexually abused female seeking revenge against her husband and almost getting away with it. This was why, in Dr. Mancini's opinion, Catherine had been so intent on having Quinn defend her. In Catherine's subconscious, she viewed Quinn as the defender of the blood avengers--those female
furies
who exacted blood vengeance against abusers and rapists and their legal accomplices.
On the surface, Catherine seemed to be a paragon of sanity, a cynical young reporter who relied on logic, street smarts, and a raw beauty she didn't seem to know she possessed. Yet she must be tormented by a buried hurt so painful that, when it surfaced, it completely took over, thirsty for vengeance on real and imagined perpetrators. Quinn suspected that the rape described by Catherine was only one of many. Perhaps there were numerous incidents of rape or abuse--trauma so painful that Cat had repressed it from her own memory.
Quinn would need to get inside her head and win her trust. Somehow he would have to discover the hidden pain that even Rosemarie couldn't seem to access. In a way, the possibility intrigued him. Something about Catherine O'Rourke drew Quinn. Now that he had a green light to handle her case, he wanted to spend time with her, even if only inside the walls of a sterile prison interview room, trying to break down the barriers that separated her from others and even from herself.
Annie's case was more complex. Annie was his client, but Sierra kept forcing herself to the front of Quinn's mind. Quinn and Annie had been through so much, including childhood scars that could never heal. But for Sierra, there was still hope. The biggest challenge on that front was Claude Tanner, a father who had shirked all responsibilities until he smelled money. Quinn had already assigned Billy Long, his Virginia Beach investigator, to dig up dirt on Claude Tanner. Hopefully Billy would find something good.
As Quinn walked, an unsettled feeling interrupted his thoughts. Something was out of place; he felt as if he was being watched, a deer innocently passing beneath a hunter's tree stand. He glanced left and right, over his shoulder. There. Two men in sunglasses and ball caps, hands in their pockets.
How did I know they were there?
He picked up his pace on the crowded sidewalk and squeezed past people. He turned to check again, and the men were still there, the same distance behind him as before, pushing their way through the crowds.