Page 16 of Counting Backwards

“Wow, yeah, for sure.” Vance nodded, but his gaze flickered away from me for a moment. I could almost see the gears turning inside his mind, searching for a reason to contradict me. “It sounds like a lot though, doesn’t it?” He didn’t wait for my response. “You should probably bring in another attorney from your office to deal with this. It shouldn’t all be on you. Especially now, when we’re trying to keep your stress levels low, right?” He tossed his phone onto the bed and pulled off his socks to begin massaging his left foot.

I watched him push his thumb into his arch, the way he did when his plantar fasciitis acted up. He closed his eyes for a moment to revel in the self-massage, and I took the opportunity to snarl at him. His continued insistence that I couldn’t handle the work I was doing was becoming intolerable.

Of course it all had to be on me, I wanted to say. I was Isobel’s attorney, and quite possibly her only advocate. If she’d been mistreated in custody, someone needed to stand up for her, just like my great-grandfather had done for the girl in that old case. I didn’t want to keep arguing with Vance, begging for his approval.

Mercifully, my phone rang, interrupting us.

“It’s Jiyana,” I said, raising my eyebrows at the late call. My sister-in-law was one of those people who generally climbed into bed at the same time as her toddlers. “Hey, is everything okay?” I asked as I picked up.

“Wendy just called in sick for tomorrow.” Wendy was their über-reliable nanny, the woman who made it possible for Jiyana to work long hours as a social worker, earning overtime to help pay for their son’s fancy preschool. This was the first time I’d ever heard of the woman missing a day. “I would never normally ask. I know your job is so crazy, but I have this one meeting I can’t cancel, and Will has an on-site in Connecticut. Jonah can stay at daycare till six, but Kian’s pickup is at four. If you could just grab him and bring him to the apartment, Will can be back like ten minutes after you get there. Are you too busy?”

I clicked over to my calendar, doing some calculations in my head about driving time to and from Hydeford.

“Yeah, no. I can actually do it. I’ll be in Jersey all morning, but I can get back in time.”

“Oh my God, Jess. You are the ultimate lifesaver. I cannot tell you... I will repay the favor tenfold when you and Vance pop out a few little monsters of your own,” she said with a laugh. “Any news on that front, by the way?”

I glanced over at Vance, who was still sitting in the same spot, waiting to finish our conversation. I wasn’t sure how he’d feel if he knew I’d told Jiyana we were trying. He loved how close she and I were, but with the whole thing becoming an increasingly sensitive topic, I didn’t want to ask now whether he minded.

“Hey, listen,” I told her, “Vance is here waiting to talk to me, so I’ve got to run. But text me the details for tomorrow, and I’m on it.”

“You’re my hero. Love ya, sis,” she said, ending the call.

I turned back toward Vance. “Auntie Jessa to the rescue?” he said.

I smiled. “You know it.”

“You see? Working less isn’t exactly the end of the world. If you cut back, you could spend your days relaxing, hanging with your nephews, putting your feet up somewhere.”

I could feel the disappointment settling over my face at his words, and he clearly saw it too.

“Look, all I was trying to say earlier is that you’re not the only person at the firm who could help this client of yours. Can’t you just think about it?”

“I’m so tired,” I answered, shutting down the conversation before we started another shouting match. “Can we just get in bed?” I twisted my neck to relieve the tension in my shoulders and stood.

Vance opened his eyes and cleared his throat, like there was something else he wanted to say—but I didn’t wait before moving to the bathroom and shutting the door between us.

***

The next morning, I passed through the metal detector and then waited for a beefy-armed officer to buzz me into the interior of the detention facility. He ushered me silently through the dusty gray hallways into the same meeting room where I’d sat with Isobel just a couple of weeks earlier. With little more than a grunt, the man promptly left me in the small space, and I presumed he was going to retrieve my client.

I remained near the open doorway, curious about the other parts of the facility. I wondered where Isobel was at that moment. Was she sitting in a cell, bored to distraction? Doing some sort of work program? Writing letters? I felt remorseful that I didn’t have a better understanding of what daily life was like for her or for any of the women incarcerated at the facility. While I waited, a sturdy-looking middle-aged woman in green scrubs and a tight blond ponytail came down the hallway, walking briskly past thedoor. She glanced at me but then looked away just as quickly as she hurried along. After she rounded the corner and disappeared from view, there was little else to look at besides the dingy concrete walls and dusty floor. I moved toward the table, pulling out one of the cold metal chairs. As I opened my notepad and flipped to an empty page, the harried woman in scrubs reappeared, poking her head into the room.

“Hey,” she said, her voice quiet enough to suggest she didn’t want to be overheard. “You’re the lawyer for Isobel Pérez?”

“I am,” I said cautiously.

“She’s been through a lot. I hope you’re able to help her.” The woman glanced over her shoulder and then turned back to me.

“Oh.” I was glad Isobel had at least one ally in the facility. “Yes, I hope so too.”

The nurse opened her mouth to speak again, but then Isobel and the guard rounded the corner. The woman nodded curtly before hurrying away. Given this guard’s surly behavior, I could hardly blame her.

I turned my attention to Isobel, offering a subdued smile in greeting as she approached. Her hair was pulled into two braids on either side of her head in a youthful fashion. She nodded back at me as they came closer.

When the officer left, Isobel pulled out the chair opposite me and flinched at the jarring sound of its legs scraping the floor.

“The joys of Hydeford never cease,” she said sarcastically, taking her seat.