Hide & Seek - James Patterson [89]
I didn’t get it, didn’t understand.
I blinked, blinked, blinked.
Warden Serra and the others were still there.
Why were they here? What had happened?
Was I going to be moved to another prison?
Was I actually awake, seeing what I thought I saw?
I doubted it. This wouldn’t be the first time I’d confused a dream and reality in here.
Warden Serra?
All these other people?
“Aren’t you a little early?” I finally asked. My eyes were slowly adjusting to the harsh light of the corridor.
“Please get dressed, Mrs. Bradford,” Maureen Serra said. “We’ve received a call from the courthouse. Something’s come up. You’re wanted in Judge Sussman’s chambers immediately.”
CHAPTER 109
I FELT COLD and was shaking all over as three guards led me through the empty courthouse. I didn’t understand what could be happening. Neither did anyone from the prison.
What was going on now? What could this be?
There were four people in the judge’s chambers when I arrived. Judge Sussman sat behind a large mahogany desk. To his right sat Nathan Bailford, looking somber, but successful, as always.
Barry, sitting forward on a leather couch on the left side of the room, winked at me, but he didn’t smile.
Only Norma Breen, dressed in a green tweed skirt and bulky brown sweater and sitting next to Barry on the couch, seemed relaxed. “Hi, Maggie,” she said; she was the only one to actually speak to me.
“Hello, Norma. Everybody,” I whispered. It all seemed surreal, as though I were dreaming. What in God’s name was happening now?
There was an empty chair next to Sussman’s, and he motioned toward it. In a daze, I did as I was told.
Sitting, I could look at the faces of the others—the same view that Judge Sussman had, as though I had gone from defendant to part of the judicial team. I liked that a lot.
Papers were shuffled. Briefcases snapped open. Coffee container lids removed.
The briefcases, the papers, the store-bought coffee reminded me that these people were different from me, that they led different lives from outside a prison.
Still, no one spoke to me, not even Nathan Bailford.
They were waiting for someone to arrive. Dan Nizhinski? Somebody else? Who?
I wished that someone would tell me why I was here, then maybe I could stop quivering. My mind was racing badly.
“Mrs. Bradford,” Judge Sussman finally spoke to me. “Ms. Breen has discovered some remarkable information,” he announced. “We’re only waiting for the district attorney—ah, here he is. Dan, welcome.”
Nizhinski strode into the room like a matador into a bullring, stance erect, expression fierce, afraid of no one. I thought of Norma’s line on Nizhinski: a putz of the first order, she called him.
He looked straight at Nathan Bailford. “What’s this meeting about? If you think you can get the verdict overturned because of some technicality—”
“It’s hardly a technicality,” Judge Sussman interrupted the prosecutor. “Tell him your story, Ms. Breen. Please, have a seat, Dan. I think you’ll need one in a minute.”
Norma rose slowly. She glanced at me, then directly at Dan Nizhinski, who had stopped pacing and was watching her warily, not quite the same confident matador he had been a moment ago.
When Norma spoke, it was in an assured and commanding voice. This was her time in the spotlight.
“During the trial, Maggie, you may remember Mr. Nizhinski took testimony from Peter O’Malley. He spoke about ‘private parties’ late in the night at the Lake Club, where, I believe, you have been a dinner guest from time to time. You had dinner at the club proper, of course.”
I nodded, still having no idea where Norma was heading. “It’s kind of where I met Will, actually. I couldn’t join if I wanted to. There are no women members.”
“I’m sorry,” Nizhinski spoke up impatiently. “What does any of this have to do with Mrs. Bradford’s trial? She shot her husband. The jury’s said so. It’s over, Ms. Breen.”
“It has everything to do with it,” Norma said. “The new evidence—who attended private stag parties at the club, and who their guests were—suggests that lots of people might