I don’t answer. I don’t know. Instead, I stand and pull Piper up with me. I put my arms around her and hug her as tightly as I can. “I love you,” I say quietly. “And I’m sorry I left you and Gabby like I did. I’m never going to do that again.” I loosen my grip, kiss Piper on the lips, and tell her to go upstairs. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”
After she leaves, I move to my desk and mull over what has happened. My mind fixes on Piper’s statement about perjuring herself. And just that fast, it hits me. I’d been wondering why David Hanson chose me to be the lawyer to defend him, given that he was having an affair with my wife. That’s a lot of power to give someone who, sooner or later, will find out he has good reason to hate you. To justify taking such a risk, there had to be a reason. And now I get it. As distraught as David was when he was first arrested, he realized that Piper was the key to his salvation. He knew that Piper would have to lie for him, have to swear under oath that she was with him while Jennifer Yamura was being murdered, not only afterward. And David knew there was only one person in the world who could persuade Piper to perjure herself for him: me.
That’s why David hired me. He had it all figured out from the get-go. He knew my endgame long before I puzzled it out myself. And he also knew that the timing of the disclosure of Piper as his faux alibi would be critical. Piper’s claim to have been with David from the time she checked into the hotel could be undermined by her receipts from the cigar store and Lululemon. So, the disclosure of her as David’s alibi was something that had to be sprung on the prosecution at the last moment, during the trial itself, before Devlin and his detectives could vet Piper’s story.
All of this means that I never had to hire Alexander Ginsberg to sit with our team at trial to lament how poorly it was going for us in order to frighten Piper into admitting her affair with David, and scare David and Marcie into putting pressure on Piper to do so. David had been planning to strong-arm Piper into coming clean all along; he was just waiting for the right time.
Still, David was taking a monumental risk. His entire strategy depended on my being motivated to persuade Piper to perjure herself for him. Given that I would be livid over the affair, there could only be one reason I’d ever agree to suborn perjury to help David: if I was convinced of his innocence. But why would David think I’d believe he didn’t do it? He was, after all, caught trying to clean up the murder scene. He ran when the police came. Then he lied to the police and to me. Many times. And he certainly didn’t know I was the one who pushed Jennifer down the stairs, so he couldn’t have held that over my head. Unless . . . Jesus. Did Jennifer tell him, injured on the basement floor, that I pushed her? Had David known all along? If so, why not threaten me directly, from the outset? Order me to have Piper lie to the police, tell them she was with him at the time of the murder? Why wait until Piper disclosed the affair and take the chance I’d have her lie for him on my own? The questions make my head spin.
I turn my chair around to look out the big bay window behind me. It’s a clear night. The moon is almost full. The stars are shining. But I still feel like a blind man walking in the dark.
After a while, I turn off the desk lamp, leave the darkened office, and walk upstairs. I enter Gabby’s room, sit on her bed, and watch her breathe. The sleep of the innocent. I look to the nightstand and pick up the book I’ve been reading to her at night. Another Dr. Seuss book: Oh, the Places You’ll Go!
“Congratulations! Today is your day. You’re off to Great Places! You’re off and away!” I lean in to Gabby and whisper the words. She stirs a little. Good; she can hear me at some level. Maybe she’s even dreaming the story as I read it. Dreaming she’s in the story. I hope so. I read slowly, with the same emphasis I use when Gabby’s awake. It’s not long before I hear paws on the hardwood floor. Franklin has shown up. He watches me finish the book, return it to the nightstand, and gently ruffle Gabby’s hair. He watches me lower my head as I remember that somewhere in Center City, in a hotel room, are the loving parents of another girl, a girl who will never again go to great places, never look up and down streets, look them over with care, her shoes full of feet.
“My God.” The tears slide down my face. I shake my head slowly. I can’t believe it. What I did. What I’m doing.
What am I? What have I become?
A shiver runs through me. I wipe my face, sit up straight, then stand. I look down at Gabby, tell myself to carry on. Just get through this! Get it done. For her sake. For Piper’s. For . . .
I don’t let myself finish the thought.
34
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 16
It’s 5:30 in the morning, and I’m at the office. I reach over my desk, pick up the phone. I call Devlin Walker. As early as it is, I know he’ll be working.
“It’s Mick,” I say, my voice flat. “I need you in my office in twenty minutes.”
Devlin snorts. “The time for your client to plead has come and gone. I was very clear the last time we spoke. So I won’t be coming to your office today—or any other time. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work to—”
“There’s a video,” I say, interrupting him. “It shows the back of Jennifer Yamura’s house on the day she was murdered. It shows who went in and out of the house, just before and after she was killed.” I let the news hang, and start counting. A thousand one, a thousand two, a thousand three, a thousand four . . . But no sound comes from the other end of the line. So I say, “Twenty minutes.” Then I hang up.