Page 122 of The 1 Lawyer

That’s when I started to cry.

CHAPTER 97

JENNY AWOKE with a start and sat straight up in bed.

It was early morning. The sky outside the bedroom window had just begun to brighten to deep blue. Too early to rise. She should lie back down, try to catch another hour’s sleep. Her sleeping patterns had been disrupted by the stress of the murder trial. But she was getting better. Much better, actually.

She looked down at Stafford Lee, sleeping beside her. His left arm rested on top of the sheet. Jenny reached for his hand and touched him softly so she wouldn’t wake him.

She studied his left hand. When their relationship began, he’d put away the wedding band he’d worn for eight years. Now the matching ring was stored in the evidence room of Biloxi PD.

Revisiting Carrie Ann’s death had been hard for him. New facts had come to light; a witness told the detective that Joey Roman had pursued Carrie Ann when she and Stafford Lee were separated. Carrie Ann had rebuffed him—the rejection of his attentions was surfacing as a common theme in all his crimes. The police believed Roman had lured Benjamin Gates to the house to provide a convenient cover-up for the double murder.

Joey was pretty good at covering his tracks, smarter than Jenny had realized. That’s how he’d gone so long without being caught.

She thought the discovery would ultimately bring Stafford Lee peace. Jenny knew he’d held himself responsible for her death, believing that he’d triggered the murder by inflaming Benjamin Gates in court. He could put those fears to rest now.

Together, they’d dismantled the murder walls in his conference room. The charts, pictures, and reports were neatly organized in cardboard bankers’ boxes stored beside the filing cabinets. Jenny privately wished they could burn them, convert the memories to smoke and ash. But they couldn’t dispose of the files, not yet. As the investigation into Joey Roman picked up steam, the DA had agreed to put off Stafford Lee’s and Rue’s trials indefinitely. What he hadn’t yet done was dismiss the charges.

Stafford Lee had asked if Jenny wanted to wait until the prosecution decision was settled before she moved out of her place and into his. He said he didn’t want her to bear the burden of his legal woes.

Jenny slid down in the bed and curled up next to Stafford Lee. She knew that some people in Biloxi might think her plan to set up housekeeping with him was too hasty, even ill-advised. But the past months had brought matters into sharp perspective for her. Adversity had a way of making priorities crystal clear.

She needed to seize the day. Be with the man she loved. Nail down every opportunity to be together.

She was already a nightly guest in Stafford Lee’s house, sharing the spare bedroom he’d occupied since the murder of Carrie Ann. When Jenny finished moving her stuff in, Rue would move over to Jenny’s place. It was more convenient for Rue, closer to the law school’s campus. Moreover, Rue commented that the new “love nest” vibe at Stafford Lee’s house was a little too intense for comfort. She liked to remind them that she had predicted the romantic outcome before either Stafford Lee or Jenny admitted to it.

A few dim stars were still visible outside the window in the dark-blue predawn sky. Jenny lay on her side as Stafford Lee slept, marveling at the joy that had bloomed during the period of hardship in their lives. She felt deeply, supremely happy. It seemed like nothing could mar that perfect moment.

Her muscles suddenly went taut.

She heard him right before he appeared in the doorway of the bedroom. He wore a Kevlar vest over a white T-shirt. And he carried a shotgun. It was the Perazzi; she could see the shape of the wooden stock and a glint of gold on the side plate.

As Joey raised the shotgun, he said, “Bet you didn’t expect to see me again.”

In a flash, the Glock was in her hand and aimed at Roman’s head.

“Bet you didn’t expect this,” Jenny said as she emptied the chamber.

CHAPTER 98

THE WAITER set a dish of turtle soup on the white tablecloth directly in front of Jenny. After he served us, I picked up my spoon and waited for her to taste it. I was eager to see her reaction.

When I’d recommended it, she said she’d never tried turtle soup. I insisted that she order it, told her she was in for a treat. The turtle soup at Brennan’s is legendary.

But now she just stared down at the dish, toying with her spoon. I went ahead and had a taste of mine. “Oh, wow. Delicious.”

She set the spoon back down on the tablecloth. With a rueful sigh, she said, “I’m so sorry, Stafford Lee. I can’t eat it.”

That was a novel reaction coming from Jenny. She wasn’t squeamish about anything. Certainly not food.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes! I’m fine—great, in fact. It’s just that I’m feeling a little sorry for the turtle.”

This was getting interesting. “I wasn’t aware that you had a soft spot for turtles.”

She raised her eyebrows. “See? You thought you knew everything about me. Well, I used to play with them in the backyard when I was a kid. I kept one in a shoebox for a while. Even named him.”

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