The Meadows had survived the Great Recession and been remarketed as a multiracial community for young families. Hugo and Verna Hatch had bought there five years earlier, after child number two. Now that they had four, their 2,200-square-foot bungalow was crowded. Moving up, though, was not an option. Hugo’s salary was $60,000 a year, same as Lacy’s, and while she was single and able to save a little, the Hatches lived from paycheck to paycheck.
They liked to party, though, and on almost every Saturday afternoon in the summer Hugo was at the grill by a pool, cold beer in hand, cooking burgers and talking football with his pals as the kids splashed in the pool and the women hid in the shade. Lacy joined the ladies, and after the usual greetings made her way to a pool house where Verna was holding the baby and keeping her cool. Pippin was a month old and so far had been an extremely cranky child. Lacy occasionally babysat the Hatch kids so their parents could have a break. Babysitters were usually not hard to find. Both grandmothers lived within thirty miles. Both Hugo and Verna came from large, sprawling families with countless aunts, uncles, cousins, and no shortage of drama and conflict. Lacy often envied the security that came with such a clan, but she also felt thankful she didn’t have to bother with so many people and their problems. Occasionally, Verna and Hugo needed a hand with the kids but wanted to avoid the relatives.
She took Pippin as Verna went to fetch drinks. As she rocked the child she surveyed the crowd on the patio: a mix of blacks, whites, Hispanics, and Asians, all young couples with small children. There were two lawyers from the Attorney General’s Office, friends of Hugo’s from law school, and another one who worked for the state senate. There were no other singles present, no prospects, though Lacy had not anticipated any. She seldom dated because there were so few eligible men, or so few who appealed to her. She had one bad breakup in her past, an awful split that, after almost eight years, was still baggage.
Verna returned with two beers and sat across from her. She whispered, “Why does she always get quiet when you hold her?”
Lacy smiled and shrugged. At thirty-six, she wondered every day if she would ever hold a child of her own. She didn’t have the answer, but as the clock ticked she worried that her chances were getting slimmer. Verna looked tired, as did Hugo. They wanted a large family of their own, but, seriously, weren’t four kids enough? Lacy wouldn’t dare start that conversation, but to her the answer was obvious. The two had been lucky to go to college, the first in their families to do so, and they dreamed of their children having the same opportunity. But how can you possibly expect to afford tuition for four kids?
In a quiet voice, Verna said, “Hugo says Geismar has given the two of you a big case.”
Lacy was surprised because Hugo was a firm believer in leaving his work at the office. That, plus the BJC stressed confidentiality for obvious reasons. Occasionally, after a few beers late at night, the three of them would laugh at the outrageous behavior of some judge they were investigating, but they never used a real name.
Lacy said, “It could be big, or it could turn into nothing.”
“He hasn’t told me much, he never does, but he seems to be a little worried. What’s odd is that I’ve never considered your jobs to be dangerous.”
“Neither do we. We’re not cops with guns. We’re lawyers with subpoenas.”
“He said he wished he could carry a gun. That really bothers me, Lacy. You gotta promise me you guys are not getting into something dangerous.”
“Verna, I’ll make you a promise. If I ever feel the need to carry a gun, I’ll quit and find another job. I’ve never fired a gun in my life.”
“Well, in my world, our world, there are too many guns and too many bad things happen because of them.”
Pippin, asleep for all of fifteen minutes, suddenly erupted with a screech. Verna reached for her and said, “That child, that child.” Lacy handed her over and went to check on the burgers.
4
When Myers finally made contact, he told Lacy to meet him at the same marina in St. Augustine. Everything was the same—same sweltering heat and humidity, same slip at the end of the dock; Myers even wore the same floral-print shirt. As they sat at the same wooden table under the shade on his boat, he drank the same brand of beer from a bottle and began talking.