The Tenth Justice - Brad Meltzer [111]
“If you want, you can stay at my place for a while,” Lisa said.
“I appreciate the offer. But if I’m home, I can keep an eye on things.”
Lisa took another sip of coffee. “Have you ever thought that you might be wrong? That your friends really aren’t against you?”
“Of course I have,” Ben said, looking up as he turned a page of the yearbook. “Why do you think I couldn’t sleep last night?”
“So…?”
“So I keep coming back to one idea: What if I’m wrong? As soon as I ask that question, I’m back where I started.”
Nodding, Lisa motioned toward Ben’s reading material. “Does anyone look familiar?”
“They look familiar in the sense that everyone looks like a boring lawyer. But beyond that, nobody looks like Rick.” Ben closed the yearbook. “It’s hopeless—he’s gone, and I’m lost.”
“Don’t say that. Pick up the next book and keep looking.”
“I don’t even know why I bother,” Ben said, opening another yearbook. “This plan is ridiculous.”
“Listen, don’t put all your faith in the yearbooks. If you find him, great. If not, we’ll find him when someone at Grinnell decides to sell. Besides, finding Rick should be secondary at this point. If you fail that lie detector test, you’ll have bigger problems than Rick.”
“I’ll pass the test.”
“Suddenly you’re so self-assured?”
“I’m serious. The average person fails the test because they’re terrified of the machine.”
“And naturally, you’re much more competent than the average person,” Lisa said.
“I am. I may be scared shitless, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let a silly piece of machinery intimidate me. If the machines were so great, they’d be admissible in court. Until then, they’re obviously beatable. Besides, the nature of being a lawyer is arguing what you don’t necessarily believe.”
“But you’re not a lawyer. You’re a clerk.”
“Did I pass the bar exam?” Ben asked. “I’m a lawyer.”
“You’re terrified is what you are. Whenever you get scared, you start acting like a pompous ass—as if that’s a solid form of defense.”
“Okay, maybe. But I still know that I haven’t done anything wrong. Rick tricked me out of that first opinion. I didn’t give it to him intending for him to use it to make money. I was a pawn. A fool. A knave. In my wildest dreams, I never thought Rick would use the information for personal gain. I thought I was speaking in the closest confidence. So if anyone is the victim here, it’s me.”
“That’s a nice speech,” Lisa said, applauding. “You should write it down somewhere.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because if you fail that test tomorrow, you’re going to need it for the opening arguments of your dismissal hearing.”
After work, Lisa and Ben left the Court, walked up First Street and made a right on C Street. Passing the Dirksen Senate Office Building, they saw a band of young Senate staffers empty onto the sidewalk, all of them dressed in tan overcoats and toting leather briefcases. Ben counted the months until spring, when the sun would shine again. Although it hadn’t snowed for a week, the leftover slush, blackened from automobile exhaust and other pollution, covered Capitol Hill with a filthy winter veneer. Ten minutes later, the two clerks reached Sol & Evvy’s Drug Store, the oldest operating pharmacy in the entire city. “Are you sure they have it here?” Ben asked, opening the door that was covered with peeling white paint.
“I’m positive,” Lisa said as she walked inside.
In the small, cramped store, sun-faded maps and decade-old advertisements decorated the walls. “It smells like my grandmother’s house,” he said.
“This place is historic,” Lisa said as she headed to the back of the store. “Have some respect.”
“Trust me, I love places like this. Where else can you find expiration dates that match your birthday to the year?”
“You have to take a look at these maps,” Lisa said as she pointed to the walls. “I don’t think a single one lists Alaska or Hawaii as states.”
“I believe it,” Ben said. “The one near the front door didn’t even have the Louisiana Purchase on it. Ah, those thirteen states