The Summer House(66)

“All right, Doc,” Pierce says, standing up and taking his briefcase with him. “I’ll be back shortly. Don’t do anything untoward and find yourself in one of these cells.”

Huang manages a smile. “Maybe the food is better.”

“Hate to say it, but you might be right.”

He walks down the short and narrow concrete-block hallway with Chief Kane and asks, “Any idea when the district attorney is arriving?”

Kane says, “Just a few minutes. He called me from his car. I’ll make sure he gets in with you and Staff Sergeant Jefferson.”

They’re outside a heavy metal door with a sign saying ALL CONVERSATIONS SUBJECT TO AUDIO AND VIDEO RECORDING. Pierce says, “Staff Sergeant Jefferson has requested me to be here. You’ll make sure that all recording devices are switched off?”

“They already are,” he says.

“You sure?”

His eyes flash with anger. “Positive.”

“Glad to hear it,” Pierce says as the chief unlocks the door. “Again, any idea what’s on Jefferson’s mind?”

“Not a clue.”

Pierce enters the interview room, and it seems the chief takes great satisfaction in slamming the door shut.



The small room is depressingly similar to others Pierce has visited over the years, although those were always at Army posts. But this one would fit right in, with its pale-green concrete-block walls, scuffed tile floor, and round table with four light-orange plastic chairs.

The door opens and Cornelius Slate comes in, smiling, wearing a seersucker suit with a white shirt and a red bowtie. He looks like the stereotype of a Southern lawyer, complete with sweat stains around his armpits.

Pierce so wants to punch that older man in the face, but he restrains himself, and after a brief handshake, Slate takes the seat across from him and drops his black leather briefcase on the table.

“Damn hot today, isn’t it?” he says. “Last week of October and Election Day is next Tuesday, but it still feels like the middle of August.”

“I didn’t notice,” Pierce says.

The district attorney opens his briefcase, smirks. “That makes sense, now, don’t it?”

It doesn’t make sense, but Pierce knows what the lawyer is driving at: Your ancestors worked the fields, so I’m sure you’re used to the heat. He says, “This is a bit of a surprise, the staff sergeant asking to see us both. Do you have any idea what he’s seeking?”

A shake of the head. “Nope. But I imagine we’ll find out—well, like, now.”

One more opening of the door, and Kane escorts Staff Sergeant Jefferson into the interview room. This is the first time Pierce has met with the Ranger, and he’s immediately impressed with his size and bearing. Even wearing an orange prison jumpsuit and with his hands cuffed in front of him, Jefferson looks like a man at ease, entirely comfortable with who he is and where he is.

Pierce wishes he had Huang next to him, looking and observing with his psychiatry skills.

Jefferson takes a seat.

Kane says, “Staff Sergeant, I’ll leave you be with these two gentlemen. Mr. Slate, Captain Pierce, if either of you wants to leave, just knock on the door. One of my folks is stationed right outside and they’ll take care of you.”

The chief leaves, closes the door behind him, and Jefferson says, “You’re Captain Pierce, the JAG lawyer?”

“That’s right,” Pierce says, taking out a yellow legal pad and pen. “Now, before we begin, I need to tell you, Staff Sergeant, that if you’re requesting me to represent you, then—”

Jefferson says, “I don’t want your counsel. I still plan to represent myself.”

Pierce slowly puts the legal pad and pen down on the dirty round table. “I’m sorry, Sergeant, I don’t understand. Then why did you want me to be here?”

The large Ranger nods in the direction of the district attorney. “Because I want you to hear what I’m going to say to this fine gentleman here and make sure there are no misunderstandings or future disagreements. You think you can do that for me, Captain?”

Pierce says, “This is very…unorthodox.”

Jefferson grins. “I’m an unorthodox Ranger. You’re Mr. Slate, right? The district attorney?”

“That’s right,” Slate says, and Pierce is pleased to see that the man looks as confused as he is. “What do you have in mind?”

Jefferson says, “Remind me, my guys and I are facing a judge in two days, on Thursday, right?”

“That’s correct,” Slate says.

“And what kind of hearing is it?”

“An arraignment,” Slate says. “You could also make a request for bail, but due to the circumstances of this case, you shouldn’t waste your time.”

“Then what?”

Slate says, “Next step will be a hearing before a grand jury, the indictment, and then the entire process gets going. I expect you and your fellow Rangers will face trial eight or nine months down the road. If not longer.”

Pierce knows all of this due to his research but wonders what the Ranger is planning. This is all straightforward, all by the book.

And in the next ten seconds, Pierce is stunned at what he hears.

Jefferson says, “Yep, I knew all that. But I also know that there’s a way to short-circuit this whole process.”