The Ex(18)

“And two bystanders?” she asked.

“At least the way they describe it.”

“How can they know he was the target and not one of the other two? Or it could have been totally random.”

“Except for the fact that Jack just happened to be in the area at the time of the shooting and had gunshot residue on his shirt.”

“Well, obviously those stupid test results are wrong.” She picked up a dice of radish from one of the carefully arranged Pyrex cups and popped it in her mouth. “Isn’t that the kind of thing you do now? Get stuff like that thrown out? I can pay you, by the way. Your full fee. I want to help Jack however I can.”

“It’s not about the money, Charlotte. I would hope you’d at least trust me on that.”

“Really? I should trust you?”

“As a lawyer. Yes, you should, or I should leave right now.”

She shrugged. “My point is, we’ll get an expert. A whole team. Poof—gone goes the bogus test result.”

“It’s not that easy.” I knew the standard ways to challenge the evidence—where police did the testing, how they handled the clothing, chain of custody, the involved personnel. But none of that would happen until trial. “I really thought I had this nipped in the bud until those results came back. Charlotte, is there any way—”

“Hell no, are you kidding me? You know Jack. Not a violent bone in that man’s body. After all, we know from experience how he handles things when his world falls apart.”

What she meant was, when you made his world fall apart.

She must have registered my discomfort. “Sorry,” she quickly offered. “My point is, we know for a fact that the only person Jack hurts when he feels lost is himself. He falls apart. It might’ve happened all over again when Molly died, but he had to hang in there for Buckley.”

“Speaking of Buckley, when she first called my office this morning, she told me that helping Jack was the—quote—least I could do after what I did to her father. How does she even know about me?”

Charlotte shrugged. “Kids hear everything, especially that kid. Not even Molly and Jack were perfect. They argued like any other couple. My guess is your name came up—the omnipresent ex-girlfriend or something.”

“She knew more than that. What I did to her father?”

Another shrug. “Trust me, she doesn’t know the whole story, or she wouldn’t have called you. All she knows is that Uncle Owen died in a car accident. Once Jack got his shit together, he vowed never again to blame himself for what happened.”

Not when there was someone else to blame. I glanced down the hall to make sure that Buckley was still out of earshot.

“So just how much did Jack despise Malcolm Neeley?”

“Well, he definitely didn’t sympathize with the guy. Or understand him. Jack is the most devoted father in the world. He’d do anything for Buckley. So imagine how he felt about this prick who knew his kid was a head case, but couldn’t dare get him any help because, of course, no son of his could possibly be imperfect. Instead, he insisted on trying to butch the kid up, pushing him to follow sports and then—lo and behold—the kid likes guns. Yay! Let’s encourage that. Great idea, *. So, yeah, Jack wasn’t a fan. But all that means is he’s got neurons firing in his brain. The lawsuit against Neeley wasn’t even his idea. Some of the other families thought of it. He just ended up with more media coverage. You know, with Molly being the one who tried to stop Todd before he opened fire. Plus he’s all squeaky clean and shiny and writes books that win awards. Not to mention the dead-cop brother. He made for good copy.”

“Speaking of you media types, I need to talk to you about that missed-moment post.”

She looked taken aback at the sudden change in subject. “How did that come up in conversation?”

“It’s why he was at the waterfront today.”

“That’s where he jogs.”

“I know, but that’s not why he was there. He was there to meet Madeline—the champagne, picnic, book girl.”

“You mean he was actually going to meet her? I knew they were e-mailing, but he was being pretty hush-hush with the details.”

“They arranged to meet today. She picked the time and the place. Seven AM this morning, right at the football field.”

I waited while the implication set in. “And Malcolm Neeley just happens to get killed there a few minutes later?”

I nodded.

“So that’s an awfully big coincidence,” she said.

“Unless it’s not.”





Chapter 7


I ASKED CHARLOTTE who Jack might have told about his plans for the morning.

She shrugged. “If he didn’t even tell me, I can’t imagine that he mentioned it to someone else.”

“But Madeline could have told anyone. Jack used his real name when he e-mailed her.”

“And the person she mentions this to just happens to decide to frame Jack for murder? That doesn’t make sense.”

No, it didn’t, but working through all possible scenarios was the way I processed facts. “If someone wanted to kill Malcolm Neeley, Jack was a prime candidate for a setup. Like you said, he made good copy as Neeley’s number-one enemy.”