On The Run: Part Two

Chapter One - "My Loss Of Disposition"

Copyright © 2013

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This story, “On The Run”, is copyrighted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. This includes all chapters, prologues/epilogues and associated content (i.e. fan-fiction, teasers, and content within blogs, social networks and eReaders). Any unauthorized copying, broadcasting, manipulation, distribution or selling of this work constitutes an infringement of copyright. Any infringement of this copyright is punishable by law.

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Jack

Does it sound petty and ungrateful to say that life has been unkind to me, even though I spend my nights lying in ten thousand dollar sheets?

I blame it all on New York City.

May 1982

“Daddy?”

“Yes, goose?” I asked, trying not to let my irritation seep through my voice. She wasn’t being any more inquisitive than usual, but the combination of her questions with the ones running through my head didn’t leave me with the most pleasant feeling.

I was working on a major attempted murder case, and it involved some higher-ups, so I was even more on edge than usual.

I pushed a button on the desk telephone, “Grant, can you come in a minute?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, and within seconds, he was standing at my desk.

“Can you get in touch with Marie? Arrange a meeting for sometime mid-week. Just her alone, though. I’d rather leave James out of this. We need to crosscheck a few details. And could you mail that, please,” I said, handing him a file.

“Daddy?” Sarah called, as Tony walked out.

I looked over at her lying on her back in the middle of my carpet. She’d just gone through an entire box of Oreos and her mouth was smeared with all the chocolate.

I smiled, “Yes?”

Sometimes, just a glimpse at the photo of her in my drawers made everything else seem so much smaller. I think that was why I made an effort to take her to the office with me on Saturdays, or pick her up from school every once in a while. She was my rainbow on a dreary stormy day.

“What do lawyers do?”

“Well, there are two types. One type of lawyer makes sure that the bad guys get punished, and the other type helps the bad guys get less or no punishment at all.”

She sat up, “What kind are you?”

“I’m the first kind. I put the bad guys in prison.”

She frowned, “How do you know if they’re really bad? What if somebody made a mistake?”

“That’s what the second type of lawyer does. If they’re really bad, he tries to make their punishment smaller, and if they’re good, he makes sure that everyone else sees that.”

I moved over and crouched down in front of her on the carpet. Pulling my hanky out, I tried to wipe her mouth as she continued talking.

“So it’s like a . . . ag . . . aug . . .” she winced. She always had a problem with her three-syllable words.