Page 26 of Hard to Kill

“Put it this way,” he says. “They are being better than when you were showing up here.”

And nods.

I tell him to stop being so emotional, which gets an honest-to-God smile out of him. “Basically, I am hoping, Ms. Smith, that maybe you are being too stubborn to die.”

Jacobson waits until I’m in the air and then fires Howie Friedlander. By then Jimmy has posted a picture on our new Instagram account of Jacobson and me standing on the courthouse steps in Riverhead after his acquittal.

The caption is simple and to the point:

SHE’SBACK.

When I get through customs and pull my carry-on into the baggage-claim area, I see a TV reporter and her cameraman standing next to my ride, Dr. Ben Kalinsky.

“Is it true, Jane?” the reporter asks. “You’re taking the case?”

I’m just glad she’s not asking why I was in Europe.

“It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to say this,” I tell her. “But see you in court.”

She must know that means in a couple of hours I’m going straight from JFK to Rob Jacobson’s bail hearing, if the LIE doesn’t screw us between here and Mineola.

Yeah, I amso back.I hug Ben and kiss him and he pulls my bag toward where he’s managed to park his car right out front.

When we’re inside his new Range Rover, I look over at the huge sign for Terminal 7.

Suddenly fixed on the word, not the number.

Terminal.

“What are you staring at?” Ben asks.

“Nothing,” I say.

TWENTY

DR. BEN, EXHIBITING FORMULA 1 skills I didn’t know he possessed, gets me to Mineola with time to spare.

Rob Jacobson is already inside the courthouse waiting for me, as is Jimmy Cunniff. So is the esteemed Judge Alicia Kane, whose reputation for being an all-time, all-world hard-ass is well documented in my world.

Any photographers walking through the parking lot after we pulled in might have gotten a good shot of the attorney for the defendant changing into court clothes in the back seat of Ben’s Range Rover as he pulls up to the curb.

I lean forward and kiss Ben with enough force and feeling that when I finally pull back it’s clear I’ll have to redo my lipstick.

As I smooth my skirt and blouse and reach for my makeup bag, Ben informs me that he plans to stick around, that he’s ready to finally see me in action. I call Jimmy and tell him to save a seat for Ben.

“Good luck,” he says.

“Feel like I’m owed at least a little.”

“The papers have been saying there’s no way he’s getting out on bail.”

“They were only still saying that when he was represented by someone other than your sweetie.”

The proceedings about to begin have drawn a big crowd, even bigger than when Jacobson turned himself in. It’s not just him they’re packing the steps to see, all the way down to the sidewalk and nearly into the street. Today I’m as much the story as he is. Maybe more.

Ben waves as I get out of the car and dash up the courthouse steps, rocking the ridiculously expensive short leather jacket I bought yesterday in Geneva.

Definitely more media today, but who’s keeping score?

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