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DUNCAN AND Rafael ended up walking from the courthouse to Jacob Riis. Duncan had suggested a cab, but Rafael, relishing his freedom, said he wanted to walk. As they emerged on the street Duncan offered Rafael his cell phone to call his family, who had no idea what’d happened. Rafael refused, saying he wanted to be able to see their faces when they learned he was free.
“You did it, Mr. R,” Rafael said, as they crossed through the crowds of Canal Street, the smell of dead fish from the Chinese markets in the air. “I’m sorry I didn’t think you were for real before.”
“You got screwed over by pretty much everyone, Rafael,” Duncan replied. “Why should you have thought I was any different?”
“But you came through for me.”
“In some way I bet it’s my fault that you got mixed up in all this to begin with,” Duncan said. “They probably picked you as their fall guy because I was your lawyer.”
Rafael looked over at Duncan. “You didn’t know nothing about that when it happened, though, right?”
“Not at all. But that’s part of why I wouldn’t let it go.”
“You kept fighting for me even when I dissed you, told you to stop.”
Duncan didn’t feel comfortable accepting Rafael’s gratitude. “That’s what it is to be somebody’s lawyer. It might sound silly, but I believe that.”
“So who shot Fowler?”
Duncan laughed. “I don’t actually know,” he said.
“Don’t you want to know who did it?”
“Sure, but whoever pulled the trigger wasn’t really behind it. Leah Roth is the person responsible.”
“They going to arrest her?”
“They’re not going to be in a hurry to do so. Somebody with her amount of juice, you’re going to need everything just so before you make a move. We’ll see.”
“It was because of her that you had to drop me before?”
“Basically she was worried that I was doing too good a job—she didn’t want the case against you to completely fall apart.”
“I want to see her go to jail, man. I want to know she’s trying to survive the same shit I just had to get through.”
Duncan certainly didn’t blame Rafael for feeling that way, but he didn’t want to talk about Leah. “I talked with your old boss, Marco, a while back,” he said. “I’m betting he’s kept a spot for you at the restaurant. And also, in terms of money, the other thing is, you’re in a position to sue some very wealthy people.”
Rafael’s eyes went wide. “You serious?”
“Hell, yeah, I’m serious,” Duncan replied with a grin. “And if you need a good lawyer to take your case, it just so happens that I have a lot of free time at the moment.”
They turned east on Ninth Street, crossing into the alphabets, the Jacob Riis project coming into view. Construction and demolition were both still under way, the project’s transformation continuing. Even if Roth Properties collapsed in scandal, Duncan assumed some other developer would come in to take their place. Change was the one constant in New York; every morning you woke to a slightly different city. That was the source of its greatness and its grinding cost.
Rafael stopped walking, his gaze drawn to the towering buildings that he’d called home. “But there’s plenty of time to talk about all that,” Duncan continued. “Now you need to go surprise the hell out of your family.”
“SO,” DUNCAN said to Candace. “Ready for your exclusive?”
He’d called her as soon as he’d left Rafael outside the Riis project, arranged to meet her back at the Life Café. Duncan walked her through the events of the day. It might get him in some trouble with Judge Lasky, but it was part of the deal he’d made with Candace, and under the circumstances he expected the judge would let it go.
“What about Rafael?” Candace said when Duncan had finished. “Can I talk to him?”
Duncan hadn’t really considered the fact that Rafael would likely be in the spotlight. “He’s gone home to be with his family, so I’d like to give them some time. I’ll call him in a couple of hours, see if he’s willing.”
“I promise to be gentle. He’s the real victim here, and his story deserves to be told.”
She had a point, Duncan thought. “I’ll tell him if he’s going to talk to anybody, it’s you,” he said. “But it’s up to him. Meanwhile, Alena Porter’s waiting for your call.”
“I’ve had a bit of an exciting day myself,” Candace said. “Darryl Loomis is dead.”
Duncan looked equal parts shocked and confused, and Candace filled him in on what’d happened.
“Jesus,” he said when she was finished. He’d encouraged Candace to reach out to Sullivan for protection when they’d cobbled together their plan, worried that it might put her in danger. But he’d never envisioned her conducting the sort of sting she had today. “And you just come in here like nothing’s happened? You could’ve been killed.”
“I didn’t think they’d really kill a reporter,” Candace said. “But actually yeah, I’m pretty sure they were going to.”
“You risked your life for a story?” Duncan said incredulously.
“It’s not like I’m embedded in Iraq or something,” Candace said. “There’re reporters who take bigger risks than what I did all the time.”
“Still,” Duncan said, “I wouldn’t have wanted you to float up on a beach in Jersey.”
Candace grinned at him. “That’s sweet,” she said.
Duncan smiled back, feeling genuinely amazed at what Candace had put herself through. “So,” he said, “I guess we actually did it.”
“It looks like we did. Listen, I’d love to stay and ponder how awesome we are, but it’s going to be a long night at the office for me,” Candace said, her eyes bright as she said it. Duncan could practically see the adrenaline pouring through her, the excitement of breaking a big story. “But yeah, congratulations. You should celebrate. I’d buy you a drink later, but I’m guessing I’ll be in the newsroom until midnight.”
“I don’t exactly have to get up for work tomorrow morning,” Duncan said.
Candace looked at him, her smile fading into something more serious. “If I buy you a drink at midnight, is that going to give you the wrong idea as to the kind of girl I am?” she said, though her voice failed to convey the playfulness she was aiming for.
“I think I already have a pretty good idea as to the kind of girl you are,” Duncan said quietly.
Candace considered him, a slight smile playing around the edges of her lips. “You know how many times I’ve promised myself I’d never get involved with a lawyer?” she said.
“It’s not entirely clear that I actually still am a lawyer,” Duncan said.
“There’s that,” Candace agreed. A moment passed where the two of them just sat there, looking at each other. “I’ve got to go,” Candace said, making no move to get up.
“Go already.”
“I’m calling you later.”
“I’m answering the phone.”
Candace stood, then impulsively leaned down and kissed Duncan. “You’re going to have a lot of explaining to do about Leah Roth,” she whispered in his ear, before turning on her heels and walking quickly away.
Duncan gave her a minute, then also headed out. He didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with himself. He began walking in the general direction of his apartment.
The weight of what he had just lost came crashing down on Duncan: his perfect upward trajectory had been completely wrenched off course. He didn’t think he’d want it back, even if he could have it. He was free, Duncan realized with wonder, free to invent a new life for himself. But what would that life consist of?
There’d be a media feeding frenzy to start with. Duncan would get a certain amount of attention focused on him, which might bring forward some job offers, or at least put him in a position where opening his own practice didn’t seem completely absurd. Something would happen. Something always happened: the next wave came, and you rode it as long and as well as you could. Duncan thought of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s line about how there were no second acts in American lives. It had always struck him as categorically wrong, but never more so than today. The story of America was the story of second acts.
His was about to begin.
a cognizant v5 original release september 18 2010
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to my wife, Melissa Goodman, without whom none of this would ever have happened.
Thanks to my agent, Betsy Lerner, and my editor, Gerry Howard, both of whom provided indispensable guidance and encouragement throughout the writing of this book.
Thanks to Anna Roberts, for her eagle eye and her insights into the New York City criminal justice system.
Thanks also to Brendan Deneen, Rachel Lapal, Loren Noveck, Sally Wilcox, and Tiffany Ward.
Numerous works of nonfiction were extremely helpful in the writing of this novel. For insights into Rikers Island, the documentary Lock-Up: The Prisoners of Rikers Island by Jon Alpert (DCTV, 1995) and the book Inside Rikers by Jennifer Wynn (St. Martin’s, 2001) both offer a compelling view into daily life at the jail. For insights into commercial real estate, skyscraper construction, urban policy, and city politics, thanks goes to The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs (Random House, 1961), The Power Broker by Robert A. Caro (Knopf, 1974), Skyscraper by Karl Sabbagh (Viking, 1990), From the Ground Up by Douglas Frantz (University of California Press, 1993), and Skyscraper Dreams by Tom Shachtman (Little Brown, 1991), as well as the reporting of Michael Idov of New York magazine, Danny Hakim and Ray Rivera of the New York Times, and Christian Berthelsen and Lance Williams of the San Francisco Chronicle. Lastly, I wish to acknowledge the reporting of Julie Bykowicz and Stephanie Hanes of the Baltimore Sun on problems with gunshot residue evidence, in particular that paper’s coverage of the case of Tyrone Jones, who was convicted of murder as a result of shoddy forensics and is still in prison for a crime he almost certainly didn’t commit.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Justin Peacock’s legal experience ranges from death-penalty defense to First Amendment cases to big-firm litigation. A graduate of Yale Law School, he was born in Detroit and lives in Brooklyn.