Page 75 of The Right to Remain

Jack knew exactly what she meant. And he could scarcely believe what the prosecution was up to.

“What’s the basis for this request?” the judge asked.

“Your Honor, our next witness is a six-year-old child.”

Jack showed no reaction, but his client flinched. Jack took the nonverbal cue, leaned closer, and whispered into Elliott’s ear.

“Nowcan we talk?”

Chapter 26

Jack had ninety minutes to convince his client to tell him what the prosecution’s next witness might say.

A child testifying against the man accused of murdering his father made for a sensitive matter. Judge Garrison had granted the prosecutor’s request to move to a smaller courtroom and ordered the hearing to resume after lunch at 1:30 p.m.

The pretrial detention facility was directly behind the courthouse. They were escorted by an overweight guard with a limp, but even at that pace, the walk was less than three minutes. Electronic devices were not allowed, so Jack deposited his cell phone at registration while Elliott went to the canteen to buy his lunch, presumably by pointing to his selections, unless he was breaking his silence when Jack wasn’t around. They reconvened in a designated attorney-client conference room where—theoretically—they could speak to one another. Jack sat opposite his client at the small rectangular table in the center of the windowless room. Elliott unwrapped his packaged utensils and picked at a plate of something that stunk up the room like week-old tuna fish salad and looked like cat food.

“Your speech strike—or whatever you want to call it—needs to end,” Jack said firmly. He expected no reply and got none. “Without input from you, the only way I can create reasonable doubt is to point the finger at other people, like I did this morning with Helena. I need more ammunition.”

Jack waited. Elliott chewed.

“An alibi would be nice,” said Jack, the monologue continuing. “On the flip side, it would also be helpful to know if you have no alibi. How’bout it, Elliott? Can you tell me where you were the night of Owen Pollard’s death?”

Elliott stabbed a cherry tomato with his fork.

“All right,” said Jack. “Let’s start with something simpler. I’ve never met Austen. You have. He’s a dancer, so he knows what it’s like to perform and be watched and judged by adults. He has experience ‘in the spotlight,’ so to speak. But you tell me: How will he do in court?”

Elliott kept eating. His expression showed obvious dislike for the taste of his food but no sign of engagement with his lawyer.

Jack sighed. “I’m still trying to figure out what you hope to accomplish by not talking to me, Elliott. Do you like it in prison?”

Jack immediately regretted the sarcasm. It was a cheap shot at the victim of prison violence.

“I’m sorry for saying that, Elliott. I know you don’t like it there.”

Silence. Jack tried a little humor. “No one wants to stay locked up. Except for Morgan Freeman inThe Shawshank Redemption, but eventually even he came around to see that no matter how comfortable you might feel inside prison walls, life is better on the outside.”

Jack watched, hoping for a hint of a smile or reaction of any kind. There was none.

“Didn’t see the movie, eh?”

Still nothing.

Jack leaned closer and rested his forearms on the table, trying to make his client look him in the eye. His tone was soft but urgent. “Elliott, if I’m going to get you out on bail, you need to help me. Please.”

Elliott laid his fork aside, as if about to say something, but another minute passed in silence. He was simply finished with his tuna salad.

There was a knock on the door. Jack stepped away from the table and answered it. A guard was standing on the other side.

“Got a lady named Bonnie here to see you, Swyteck. Claims to beyour assistant. I told her to wait in the lobby until you’re done, but she says it’s urgent.”

Jack assumed that Bonnie had tried his cell phone, which was back at check-in. The fact that she’d made a special trip to the jail told him it truly couldn’t wait.

“Elliott, hold your thought,” said Jack. “We’ll pick right up when I get back.”

Jack stepped out, the guard locked the door from the outside, and Jack followed him to the visitors’ waiting area. Jack found Bonnie standing near the television, which was blasting the noon-hour news in Spanish.

“Dr. Stone called,” she said in an urgent voice. “You have to speak to him before you go back into court.”