The Perk by Mark Gimenez Page B

or
manslaughter."
    He spat.
    "But he can't deny the DNA. If he was three years older than her, ain't no defense to stat rape, even if she let him. He's
going to prison—if we find him in time. D.A. says if he's not indicted by
midnight on New Year's Eve, he's a free man forever." Aubrey stared out
at the field, then said in a quiet voice, "He dumped her in a ditch,
Beck. Out 290 East by the city limits sign."
    "The white cross."
    Aubrey nodded.
    "So what's happening with the case? Are the
police still looking for this guy?"
    Aubrey shook his head. "Sheriff—she was on
the county side of the line—he says there's nothing left to do. They got DNA from every male in the county fifteen and over. No matches."
    "Stutz ordered that?"
    "Nope. Sheriff asked. Everyone came
forward on their own, even the Mexicans, at least the legals. Dads brought
their boys in. No one wanted to be a suspect."
    "That wouldn't have happened in Chicago."
    "Small town, Beck. Everyone would know who
refused."
    "So this guy was an outsider? Or an
illegal?"
    "Mexicans know better than to come around German
girls. He was an outsider, I'm sure of it."
    Aubrey stared at his players for a time. Then
he spat and turned to Beck.
    "You do me a favor, Beck, for old times?"
    "What kind of favor?"
    "Look into her case. Smart lawyer like
yourself, you might see something the sheriff didn't."
    "Aubrey, I'm a civil trial lawyer. I'm not
even that right now. I don't know what I could do."
    "You can do anything you want to do when
you're the judge. Word around town is, you're gonna run."
    "Word around town?" Then Beck
remembered. "J.B. was in town this morning."
    "I heard about it over at the Java Ranch.
Coffee shop on Main. Got the whole town talking."
    "I haven't decided yet."
    "Well, now, that creates a bit of a
problem."
    "Why's that?"
    " 'Cause I told everyone I'm backing
you."
    "Aubrey, every lawyer in town is going to
file."
    "Every lawyer in town didn't win the state
championship."
    Aubrey gazed into the sky. Beck looked up: a
red-tailed hawk was circling in the distance like a kite on a string.
    "You're her only hope, Beck."
    "Her hope for what?"
    "Justice."
    There was that word. Beck Hardin knew all about
justice. At Notre Dame, Beck the law student had asked about justice; an old professor
had said, "Justice? Mr. Hardin, justice is God's domain. Our domain is
the law. A good lawyer never confuses the two." So Beck the lawyer had
not expected justice. But Beck the man had, only to learn that there was no
justice in this life, not for his wife or his mother … or for Aubrey's
daughter. But he saw the same hope in Aubrey's eyes that he had seen in Annie's
eyes and in the eyes of the other patients in the chemo room when he had taken
her in for treatments, the desperate hope that there was still justice to be
had in life. The same desperate hope he now saw in his own eyes each morning
when he shaved.
    "Aubrey, even if I won, by the time I took
office, there'd only be three months left before the statute runs."
    "How much do you charge, as a lawyer?"
    "Eight hundred an hour."
    He spat. "I can hire you for six hours and
… twenty-two minutes."
    "Aubrey, you're not paying me."
    "The sheriff's holding back on me, Beck,
not telling me everything he knows. He might talk to you."
    "Why would he withhold information?"
    "I don't know. You're my lawyer—ask
him."
    Aubrey reached to his other side and grabbed a
cane. He struggled to his feet. Surgical scars ran down both sides of his right
leg, which was noticeably thinner than his left leg.
    "You are my lawyer, aren't you, Beck?"
    Beck exhaled and pulled his eyes off the scars.
He looked up at his old friend and nodded.
    "Yeah, Aubrey, I'm your lawyer."
    "Thanks, Beck. I'll pay you, least until
you're the judge."
    "I don't want your money, Aubrey."
    Beck stood, and they shook hands again. Aubrey
nodded down at Luke.
    "He your only kid?"
    "I've got a girl, Meggie. She's five."
    "And you don't have a clue