Page 102 of The Devil's Advocate

Bloch stared at the wall opposite her. Her mind a thousand miles away. She was close to something. The piece that they were missing, which explained this whole terrible mess, was close. That star in the night sky was almost within sight.

‘I’ll stay up and watch the hotel entrance,’ said Bloch.

‘I’ll come get you in a few hours,’ said Harry.

‘I want everyone to get some sleep tonight,’ I said. ‘We’ve done well to get this far, but tomorrow Korn holds all the aces. The two most compelling pieces of evidence in any criminal trial are DNA evidence, and a confession from the defendant. Either one is enough for Korn to get a conviction. I’ve got an idea how to attack the DNA evidence ; I’m still working on the confession. Don’t think we’ve won this case. Not for a second. We could get our asses kicked tomorrow and if that happens, Andy dies. Bloch, I need you to run an errand early tomorrow morning. If it plays out like I think it will, we’ve got a shot.’

Kate was going to work a little more, then get some sleep. I went downstairs, stood outside the hotel and watched Bloch take up a seat in the lobby. Her mind still working. I took a breath of hot, sweet air and called Berlin.

He sounded pissed.

‘When were you going to tell me that Esther Edwards died?’ he asked.

‘I’m running a defense in a capital-murder trial. I’ve been busy. How did you know about Esther?’

‘I work for several US intelligence agencies, Eddie.’

‘Do you know that Bloch found a white supremacist terror cell this afternoon?’

He fell silent, said, ‘Tell me everything.’

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

KORN

It was close to midnight when Randal Korn pulled up outside the grocery store on Duke Street, behind the Sheriff’s Department cruiser. He got out of the car, popped the trunk and removed a bulging, brown leather gym bag. On his way past the cruiser, he knocked the side window. The deputy, Leonard, nodded.

Korn approached the door next to the grocery store. There were three buzzers. He pressed the one for apartment two, and waited. Glancing around the street, he saw no one on the sidewalk. A few cars parked a couple of hundred yards away, but no activity. He pressed the buzzer again. This time, a voice came over the intercom.

‘Hello?’

‘It’s the Sheriff’s Department, open up,’ said Korn.

The buzzer sounded, Korn pushed the door open. In front of him was a small, narrow hallway leading to a set of stairs. He climbed the stairs, found another hallway and three doors. Two on the right, which were the apartments over the grocery store, and one on the left. He went left and knocked on the door for apartment two.

Sandy Boyette opened the door, just a crack, the security chain in place, and looked out at Korn.

‘The police are outside. Look out your window, then come back and open this door. You’re in a lot of trouble, Miss Boyette,’ said Korn.

She didn’t close the door, but left it open a crack. The chain still on. Korn listened to the sound of Sandy padding across her apartment floor, the rattle of the blinds clattering closed. He heard more rustling, bare feet moving hurriedly. As if she were quickly tidying up. She came back, the security chain snicked free and the door opened.

‘What do you want?’ asked Sandy.

Korn made his way inside and said, ‘I’m here to see if I can help you stay out of prison, Sandy.’

She was dressed in Minnie Mouse PJs, her hair messed up from bed. A single lamp in the corner of the apartment gave out a weak light. It was a single room, with a bed in one corner, a sink and a camp cooker in the other. There was one door leading off the studio space to what Korn supposed was a closet converted into a bathroom and shower. One low table and two armchairs on opposite sides of it, one leather and ripped at the bottom, the other green fabric with the armrests and cushion faded from use.

‘You’d better sit down,’ said Korn, taking the leather armchair.

Sandy stood, folded her arms and said, ‘What the hell is this about? I’ve done nothing wrong.’

Korn put the leather gym bag on the table, opened the zip and spread the bag open to reveal tight stacks of fifty-dollar bills.

‘It’s late, and you’re due in court in the morning. Let’s cut the bullshit, Sandy. I know you’ve been talking to Eddie Flynn, and he has offered to buy your vote on the Dubois jury. I can’t let that happen. I know everything, apart from how he’s paying you. I figure he doesn’t want to arouse suspicion, so he’ll send you the money what … six months after the verdict?’

Sandy said nothing, but Korn watched a vein grow in her neck, the skin around it blushing.

‘That’s the smart way to do it. And Flynn is smart. Your guarantee is that you can expose him if he doesn’t pay you, and of course he has more to lose. That’s how he sold it to you, I’m guessing?’