The officer gave him a concerned look. “Mr. Serrat, I’m sorry, I wasn’t told that they were expecting visitors.” He fumbled for his radio. “I’ll need to call…”
Sean gave the man a long stare. “If you think you need to clear it, please, call Carl.” He’d been in D.C. long enough to know the power of the name-drop.
The officer washed a hand over his face, seeming to deliberate what would be worse, breaching protocol and letting Sean through or getting taken to task by Police Chief Martinez for daring to question a respected figure at the court, one whose daughter had been murdered on their watch. He lowered his radio and moved aside, gesturing with his arm for Sean to pass through the bronze trellis.
The secretary in chambers looked equally surprised at Sean’s visit. She asked him to take a seat in the reception area, picked up the telephone, and spoke softly into the receiver. The large doors to chambers were closed, but Sean could hear the whispers of the law clerks in the adjoining offices.
Sean’s mobile buzzed and he clicked open a text. It was from Emily:
Call me as soon as you’re done. Jon gave me a ride home. I love you.
The intercom on the receptionist’s desk buzzed and she picked up the phone, listened, and placed it back in the cradle.
“He’ll see you now.”
Sean took a deep breath and opened one of the impressive mahogany doors. He walked down a corridor lined with shelves filled with old law books and into an ornate office. Oriental rugs covered the floor, and a settee and two wing chairs were placed in front of a massive fireplace. Out the window, a spectacular view of the Capitol dome. Sean recalled from his own clerkship days that the space had once been home to Justice Kagan, though she had gone with modern décor. The only modern item here was a gold football helmet placed prominently in a display cabinet.
Justice Carr, wearing a white dress shirt with the top button undone and his tie loosened, greeted Sean as he entered chambers. Carr’s shirtsleeves were rolled up, showing muscular forearms.
“Sean, what a pleasant surprise.” He stuck out his hand.
Sean let it hang there.
The justice let his hand fall slowly. Less confident, he said, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He gestured for Sean to take a seat in front of the fireplace, but Sean stood.
“United States v. Ahmed,” Sean said.
Carr returned Sean’s stare with a confused squint of the eyes.
“Your dissent,” Sean added.
Justice Carr held his stare at first, but looked away. Then, a half-hearted, “I don’t understand.”
“Neither did I until I saw your draft e-mail message to my daughter.”
“I don’t under—”
“Don’t,” Sean said through gritted teeth. He glared at Justice Carr until the man averted his eyes again. “Do you know how I got here today?”
Justice Carr’s gaze lifted, he shook his head.
“I took a rickshaw. You know, one of those bike contraptions. Mine was operated by the brother of one of Abby’s friends. A friend who lives in Adams Morgan on Kalorama Road, an address I think you’re familiar with.”
Justice Carr’s eyes flashed, but he didn’t say anything. He walked to his large wooden desk, which was stacked with briefs—the blue, red, gray, and green little booklets Sean had spent nearly his entire adult life reading and writing. There were two phones on the desk, one red with no buttons, the panic phone, the other an ordinary office phone. The justice eyed them both, then pushed a button on the ordinary phone. A voice bellowed from the speaker. “Can I get you something, Justice Carr?”
“Yes, Kathryn. It’s been an exceptionally long week. I’d like you to tell the law clerks to take the rest of the day off.”
“You’d like me to send them home?” the voice said from the speaker. Tentative, like perhaps she had misunderstood.
“Yes. They need a break.”
A pause. “Yes, sir.”
“And Kathryn,” Justice Carr added, “why don’t you take the rest of the day off, too.” It was more of a command than a request.
“Of course, sir.”
When the phone beeped off, Justice Carr’s eyes turned again to Sean, who was now standing in front of the desk. A long silence fell between them. Then, the confession: “I loved her.”
Sean took it in. “Loved,” he finally spat back.
“Believe what you want, but we were in love.” There was a rehearsed quality to it, acting, Sean thought.
“You loved her so much,” Sean said, “that you immediately came forward after she was killed to tell the police what you knew.”
“It wasn’t that simple.”
“Actually, it was.” Sean’s pulse was hammering now. “Unless you had something to do with it.”
Carr’s expression hardened. “Never.”
“Then, who?”
“You know who—they’ve arrested him. Malik killed Abby.”
Sean gave a sharp shake of the head.
Carr continued, “I saw her that night, she was scared. It had to be Malik.”
“So you admit to being in the library?” Sean’s mind jumped to Malik’s testimony: She was with a man … They were having sex.