flying blind. A deputy whispered to Janis that the judge’s clerk had

  arrived, and she left, soon returning with a clean suit and a tie. She

  also handed me a little comb. I quickly changed clothes and tried

  to smooth my rumpled hair. The day’s stubble made me look like a

  middle-aged actor trying to look cool.

  Maggie and Janis were already seated at our table when the deputy

  and I reached the courtroom. I smiled to see Debbie, Clovis, and

  Mongo in the front row of the gallery–the only family I had right now.

  The press and various rubberneckers filled the other rows. Dub hadn’t

  made his entrance yet. The small army of lawyers crowded around

  the prosecution’s table grew quiet as I walked in. Bullock nodded to

  me slightly, managing to look embarrassed. Sam and Micki’s friend,

  Rodney Fitzhugh were sitting together in the back of the room. Sam

  caught my eye and returned my weak smile. If the night’s screams were

  any indication of what could have happened without his influence, I

  owed him serious thanks. An ambulance had transferred two inmates

  to the hospital this morning. Their injuries hadn’t been noticed until

  breakfast.

  Dub came bursting through the doors, stopping along the way to

  shake several reporters’ hands. Pausing at our table, he extended his

  hand to Janis, but she failed to return the gesture. Caught off-guard,

  hand hovering in mid-air, he turned to me. I wasn’t as nice as Janis.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Just a gentlemanly gesture.” He actually looked surprised.

  “When you act like one, we’ll think about it,” Janis sneered.

  Flushing a bit, he dropped his hand quickly and walked over to his

  table.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked to no one in particular.

  Maggie whispered in my ear, “I’d like to cut it off.”

  “Maggie, Maggie,” I said. “little Rock is making you irritable.” That

  didn’t even raise a smile.

  “All rise,” said the bailiff, and Judge Houston stormed in followed

  by two clerks.

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  He’d barely gotten settled before he fumed. “Mr. Blanchard, what

  is all this about?”

  Dub rose from his chair, turned to the gallery for effect, and then

  responded to the judge.

  “Your Honor, yesterday we apprehended Mr. Patterson at Hodges

  Aircraft after he violated both this court’s order and my instructions

  not to contact Dr. Stewart. He flew to oklahoma City specifically to

  meet with Dr. Stewart. Fortunately, I put a stop to the meeting. Mr.

  Patterson fled the scene, eluding apprehension at the airport. If we

  hadn’t captured him here in little Rock when he stopped to refuel,

  he might have fled the country. We ask the court to hold Mr. Patterson

  without bond until formal charges can be brought, issue a contempt

  order for his conduct, and remove him as counsel for Dr. Stewart.” He

  fairly glowed with confidence.

  I looked at Janis. We had expected the contempt request, but Dub

  had played his hole card early–what he really wanted was for me to

  be removed from the Stewart case. Janis stood up, although it didn’t

  make much difference. She was as tall sitting down as she was standing

  up. Her tone was all business.

  “Your Honor, if you please, my name is Janis Harold. I represent

  Mr. Patterson.”

  “Ms. Harold. Welcome.”

  “Thank you. May I speak?”

  “of course.”

  “I’m puzzled by the nature of these proceedings. If this is a con-

  tempt hearing, does the prosecutor base it on some motion or a Show

  Cause order issued by this court? I’ve checked the record and can

  find no such pleading or order on file. If the charge is obstruction of

  justice, is this an arraignment? If so, what are the charges? All I know

  is that my client was taken into custody last night by a deputy marshal

  assigned to Mr. Blanchard, made to spend the night in the county jail,

  and then paraded in front of the press in chains and an orange jump

  suit. What exactly has Mr. Patterson done to warrant such treatment?”

  Dub jumped up. “Your Honor, he met with Dr. Stewart in okla-

  homa City.”

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  “He’s Dr. Stewart’s attorney. Didn’t you know?” Janis snapped.

  “of course, but he did so without receiving this court’s permission.”

  He looked at the bench for a sign of approval.

  “He didn’t need this court’s permission. Your Honor, I’ve reviewed

  the transcript of the prior proceeding. At no time did this court say

  Dr. Stewart’s lawyers couldn’t contact their client. Your only statement

  on the subject was that you would review the government’s pleading

  to determine whether the client should be made available to counsel.

  Mr. Patterson simply found another way to meet with his client once

  he discovered where Mr. Blanchard had hidden him.”

  Janis emphasized the word “hidden.” Dub flushed again, this time

  a deep red. He really did fluster easily.

  “I told counsel yesterday that he couldn’t see Dr. Stewart.”

  “That’s right, you did. let me quote, ‘It’ll be a cold day in hell

  before you see Stewart.’ You also said you would appeal any order

  from the court giving him access.”

  Dub hadn’t expected to hear that. Neither had the judge, whose

  lips were set in a grim line. Dub rushed to add fuel to the fire.

  “Your Honor, that’s not what I said. I simply explained to Mr. Pat-

  terson the options my office has available.” Janis was ready for the lie.

  She handed Maroney’s affidavit to Dub and Bullock and turned to

  the bench.

  “If Mr. Blanchard intends to make such a representation to the

  court, if he denies that he used the words ‘cold day in hell’ and ‘we

  will appeal,’ I will call both Mr. Bullock and Marshal Maroney to the

  stand to testify.” I saw Bullock gulp.

  “Your Honor, after my client’s partner, Ms. lawrence, was kidnapped

  and almost killed, he became concerned for the safety of Dr. Stewart.

  Having been denied access to his client, he did what any good lawyer

  would do—he hit the books. He determined that once a prisoner is

  detained in a federal facility, jurisdiction over that prisoner lies not with

  the court, not with the U.S. attorney, and not with the U.S. marshal.

  Jurisdiction resides with the warden of the facility where he is incar-

  cerated. The warden controls any and all visitation.” Janis handed the

  judge a memo outlining the law. “I might also add that Mr. Bullock rec-

  ommended this precise course of action to Mr. Patterson last Sunday.”

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  She continued, “only then did Mr. Patterson contact the warden,

  obtain permission for a visit, and fly to oklahoma to check on his

  client. To clear up the record, he did meet with his client briefly, but

  the meeting was interrupted. The warden told him that the he had

  been ordered him to curtail the interview immediately. of course he

  flew back to little Rock, but certainly not to refuel. A deputy marshal

  met the plane upon landing, and Mr. Patterson accompanied him

  peacefully. He didn’t run or flee from arrest.” She turned to glare at

  Dub scornfully.

  The judge interrupted. “All right, I’ve heard enough. Mr. Blanchard,

  do you intend to charge Mr. Patterson today?”

  “Not today, your Honor, although my office is still contemplating

  charges.”

  “All right then. First, since you have no charges, I see no reason why

  Mr. Patterson should be held. Second, Mr. Blanchard, if you wish to

  seek contempt charges against Mr. Patterson, you must file a motion.

  Furthermore, if you think disobeying your orders rises to the level of

  a federal crime or some form of contempt, I want to see some legal

  authority. Got it?”

  No longer contemplating anything, Dub mumbled, “Yes, your

  Honor.”

  “I expect to issue my rulings on your motions very soon. I don’t

  want you to read anything into what I say, Mr. Blanchard, but if I were

  you and didn’t want Mr. Patterson to have access to his client, I’d be

  preparing my appeal.” He smiled.

  I felt almost giddy. We were finally going to get access to Doug—

  unless the eighth Circuit Court of Appeals stayed his orders. Then

  Judge Houston turned to me.

  “Mr. Patterson, I understand your hurry to see your client after Ms.

  lawrence’s tragedy. However, I get the impression you tend to play a

  little fast and loose. I won’t tolerate any games in my court. I believe

  that justice delayed is justice denied. I know you are hampered by

  the loss of your co-counsel, but I will not accept her absence as an

  excuse for delay in either this case or the companion civil forfeiture

  case. I expect both sides to be ready within the dates I set in my order.

  Understood, counsel?”

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  I jumped up and said, “Understood, your Honor.”

  Dub couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Your Honor, what about

  our request that Mr. Patterson be dismissed as counsel? He may not

  have violated an order, but surely his conduct warrants dismissal.”

  The judge appeared to be seriously pondering the request. I was

  beginning to worry, when, a slow smile spread over his face.

  “Request denied, Mr. Blanchard. Your request would only delay

  matters.” The judge banged his gavel and escaped the courtroom

  before anyone could say a word.

  We remained in the courtroom for some time, relishing the

  moment. Dub and his troops left immediately, gearing up for an

  “impromptu” press conference. I had no desire to listen, and at my

  request Janis declined to participate. Too many battles were left to

  declare victory just yet. The opposition already had enough guns; I

  didn’t want to give them any extra ammunition. No matter what, Dub

  would spin it his way, and I couldn’t control how the press reported

  it. What mattered was that I was no longer under arrest, I was not in

  contempt of court, and I wouldn’t spend another night in jail.

  Normally, you don’t just get to walk out of jail after being arrested.

  You have to be ‘processed.’ But since Dub and his attorneys had van-

  ished, Marshal Maroney just smiled and opened the door.

  So I walked out of the courthouse a free man. I’d spent one fairly

  safe night in segregated confinement—what would it be like to spend

  years behind those bars? even if you were tough, made it through

  physically unscathed—what would it do to your soul? laws in this

  country are unforgiving—where would you find a job? How could you

  support your family?

  Janis and Maggie had decided to have a celebratory lunch, so

  I decided to wait for Sam who was just pocketing his cell phone. I

  started to thank him as he walked up, but he stopped me with an out-

  stretched hand.

  “That was eric. Micki’s out of ICU and wants to see you. eric gave

  in, but insists on being there. I’m okay with it as long as one of my

  officers is present. You probably won’t . . ." Clovis and I were already

  off like a shot.

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  D

  little Rock has the only Adult level one Trauma Center in the

  state. The University Med Center had worked hard to attain the status

  and worked equally hard to maintain it. I’d known the director, Terry

  Collins, since we were kids. Terry met us at the door and told us to take

  the elevator to the third floor, the staff was expecting us. Clovis and

  I introduced ourselves to the two uniformed police officers standing

  outside Micki’s door.

  I knocked, and a tall, worried-looking man opened the door. He

  looked like the kind of guy who ate a lot of fish and spinach. He

  stepped out into the hall, and I offered my hand.

  “You must be eric. I’m Jack Patterson.”

  “Pleased to meet you. I—well, I feel like I already know you, but

  I sure didn’t think we’d meet like this. Micki’s asleep again, but I

  promised to wake her whenever you came. I don’t think she’s suf-

  fered any permanent physical damage, but she still sleeps a lot, and

  psychologically, I don’t know. She’ll need a lot of time and a lot of

  therapy. It’s anyone’s guess when she’ll be back to normal.

  “Jack—can I call you Jack?” I nodded, feeling my feathers ruffle just

  a little. He wasn’t that much younger than me. “I know you have this

  big case together, and I know it’s important to her, but she can’t be

  involved. She made me promise to let you see her, but she’s not ready

  to deal with you or some case or much of anything for that matter.

  She’s lucky to be alive.” He looked ready for combat, and I settled

  down. He really was in love with her.

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  “listen to me, eric. I’m here as her friend. I need to see her and

  assure myself she’s all right, maybe to reassure both of us. I don’t want

  to interfere with you or any of her other doctors. I just want her to get

  well. I’ll only be here for a little while.”

  “okay, but she’s very fragile.”

  You’ve got a lot to learn about Micki. Fragile was not the word I would

  use to describe her, whatever the situation.

  We stepped quietly into the room, and eric pulled back the cur-

  tain. Why is it that even orderlies barge in without hesitation, but visitors

  tiptoe? Plastic bags dripped saline and medicine into Iv catheters in

  her wrists. Her eyes looked like they’d been punched, and her skin

  was pale.

  eric said. “Micki, Jack’s here.”

  She turned her head to look at me, eyes still bloodshot. I could still

  see a twinkle.

  “Hello, partner,” she whispered.

  I took her hand gently, pulled the chair close, and sat down. Micki

  looked at eric, Clovis, and the policeman who had trailed in behind us.

  “I need to talk to Jack alone. I know I’m not supposed to, but I’m

  gonna do it. So everybody out.”

  eric was the first to protest. “Honey . . ." but she interrupted.

  “out.” She couldn’t shout, but no one was about to argue with her. I

  continued to hold her hand, an innocent bystander, pleased as punch.

  They all retreated, eric scowling at me as he closed the door. “How’d

  you figure out where I was? Sam told me it was you who found me.”

  “Just a hunch.” She looked so tired, so unlike the Micki I knew.

  “Jack, I know I won’t be able to stay awake very long, so tell me

  what’s happening. I’ve got to know. I promise not to say a word, but

  please tell me what’s going on.” She leaned back, clearly expecting

  me to talk, so I did. Told her about going to oklahoma City, spending

  the night in jail, and what had happened in court today. Her eyes

  remained closed, but I could tell she was listening and thinking.

  I had just finished when Clovis stuck his head in the room.

  “Jack, the policeman’s getting anxious. eric’s gone, but if he comes

  back and you’re still here he’s going to have a cow.” I could easily grow

  tired of Eric.

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  Micki tried to smile. “Just a few more minutes, please . . . c’mon

  Clovis, just a few more minutes.” Clovis closed the door quietly.

  I tried to interrupt, but she stopped me, sounding a bit like her old

  self. “My turn, Jack. It wasn’t Novak. Somebody’s trying to frame him.”

  “I agree,” was all I could get out before she continued. “They all

  wore masks, but. . . ." The effort it took her to speak was heartbreaking.

  “Sam will find whoever did it,” I told her. “I think what happened to

  you is somehow related to the Stewart case. I haven’t figured it out yet,

  but I will. What’s important is for you to recover. Don’t worry. You’re

  my partner—we have a lot to look forward to.”

  She smiled, but was clearly about done in. Releasing her hand, I

  promised to return.

  As I rose to kiss her on the check, she whispered, “Please, be careful.