Chapter 1

Miami

Two Years Later

“You are experiencing mirror image syndrome,” the marriage counselor said from behind her desk. Dr. Stanger’s office furnishings

were ultramodern, and the oval desktop was solid glass. Beneath the halogen lighting, it glistened like a puddle of her clients’

tears.

“What does that mean?” asked Jack.

Jack Swyteck and his wife of nine years, FBI agent Andie Henning, were seated in matching wing chairs facing their counselor.

Jack was dressed in a dark suit and tie, having just come from the courthouse. Andie was wearing FBI khaki pants, the standard

blue polo shirt, and an empty holster. Weapons were strictly forbidden in Dr. Stanger’s sessions, and no one had to ask why.

Counseling had been Jack’s idea—one last attempt to find an alternative to Andie’s solution to the “rough patch” in their

marriage.

Dr. Stanger folded her hands atop her desk. “Mirror image syndrome means that the two of you are looking at the exact same

reality and each seeing your spouse as the unreasonable one.”

“That’s not a syndrome,” said Jack. “That’s life.”

“‘Life without parole,’ a criminal lawyer might say,” Andie said, teasing, with an exaggerated sigh.

“Criminal defense lawyer,” said Jack. “I’m not a criminal.”

“This is not constructive,” Dr. Stanger said.

“Actually, it is,” said Andie. “Our life for the last nine years has been doing things Jack’s way. I’ve lost count of the number of times his work as a criminal lawyer—”

“Criminal defense lawyer.”

“—has caused me professional embarrassment at the bureau. If our marriage and our daughter are the most important things in

our life, why can’t we try it my way?”

“Can I respond?” asked Jack.

“Of course,” Dr. Stanger said.

“Because it’s not reasonable to ask me to stop doing what I do best. I can’t suddenly slap my mug on billboards and ask, ‘Have

You Been Injured in an Accident?’”

“To be fair, that’s not what Andie is saying, Jack. Her point is that the essential nature of her work is to put criminals

behind bars. She can’t be an FBI agent and not do that. But a lawyer doesn’t have to defend accused criminals to be a lawyer. There are a multitude of ways to practice law

without being adverse to law enforcement.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” said Andie. “But my point is more than that: Why does it always have to be the woman who changes her

career for the betterment of the marriage?”

“Why does either of us have to change their career?”

“Because this isn’t working anymore, Jack.”

The room went silent. Andie had uttered those words only once before, prior to counseling. But it was the first time she’d

said it with such conviction.

The counselor broke the silence. “Would you like my take on what’s not working?”

“By all means,” said Jack.

“It’s not the abstract possibility of a conflict of interest between a lawyer and a law enforcement agent that is straining

your marriage. It’s the self-imposed rule you’ve lived by to avoid any potential conflict.”

The Rule. It was etched in stone: Andie didn’t talk to Jack about her active investigations, and Jack didn’t talk to Andie about his

active cases. Jack’s fear was that he might say something to land his client in jail; Andie’s fear was that she might slip

and reveal an FBI secret to one of Miami’s top criminal defense lawyers.

“What’s wrong with the Rule?” asked Andie, capital R .

“It’s not healthy for two career-oriented people to muzzle themselves in that way,” said Dr. Stanger. “I honestly don’t know

how you two have managed to stay together this long.”

“Till death do us part,” said Jack.

“Oh, give me a break, Jack. You’ve already been divorced once.”

“She wasn’t ‘The One.’”

Dr. Stanger laid her pen on her notepad, as if they’d finally made a breakthrough. “If Andie is ‘The One,’ Jack, does that

mean you’re open to dropping the Rule?”

“I suppose that’s better than dropping my career.”

“I’m not asking you to drop—”

Dr. Stanger raised her hand like a traffic cop, stopping Andie in midsentence. “Andie, how about you? Are you willing to drop

the Rule?”

Andie considered it, then spoke. “I’m open to it. But I have a condition.”

“Go ahead,” said Dr. Stanger.

Andie looked at Jack, then back at the counselor. “I want Jack to at least cut back on the criminal defense work. And not

just a little.”

Silence. Again, Dr. Stanger broke it.

“The ball is in your court, Counselor.”

Jack breathed in and out. “You know, ninety-nine percent of civil cases never go to trial. They settle. And if you ask any

mediator what’s the best way to tell if a settlement is ‘fair,’ he’ll tell you it’s when neither side is happy.”

“What are you saying?” asked Dr. Stanger.

Jack reached across the divide between the two wing chairs and took Andie’s hand. “I’m saying yes. We drop the Rule. And I’ll

cut back on my criminal defense work.”

“A lot,” said Andie.

Jack swallowed hard. “Okay. A lot.”

Biscayne Bay was black as night. As flashes of moonlight broke through the clouds, starlike twinkles rippled across the gentle waves beyond the seawall. Jack sat alone on the dock behind his house, keeping his buyer’s remorse to himself. A lamp glowed in the window of the corner bedroom, where Andie was putting their daughter, Righley, to bed.

Criminal defense defined Jack as a lawyer. His first job out of law school had been with the Freedom Institute, where he spent

four years defending death row inmates. He’d moved on from the institute by the time he met Andie, but his practice was still

overwhelmingly criminal defense, and the occasional innocent client didn’t stop her from asking, like everyone else, “How

do you sleep at night knowing your client was guilty?” Truth was, Jack lost much more sleep defending the innocent, when his

client faced prosecution for a crime someone else had committed. Too many of those cases would put any lawyer on the road to burnout. Over the years Jack had incorporated a few high-stakes civil lawsuits

into his practice, mostly plaintiff’s work that paid well enough to let him put something away for Righley’s college fund

and, even further off in the future, a comfortable retirement for him and Andie. The tension between Andie’s career at the

FBI and Jack’s criminal defense practice was real, not imagined, and Jack understood her frustration. But there was no denying

that what got Jack out of bed each morning and put a spring in his step was a trip to the criminal courthouse.

Jack’s cell phone rang. He answered, and his father jumped straight to the point of his call.

“Hey, son, I hear you’re finally coming over from the dark side.”

A cop turned politician, Harry Swyteck had served two terms as the “law and order” governor of Florida. In his first term

alone, he’d signed more death warrants than any governor in Florida’s history, several for Jack’s clients—including one who

was innocent. Now one of Jack’s closest friends, Theo Knight still walked this earth only because his lawyer wouldn’t give

up.

A seagull swept past Jack. “It sounds like you talked to Andie.”

“Just got off the phone with her. Told me you’re cutting back on your criminal practice. Way back.”

“Did she tell you it was her idea?”

“She did.”

Jack stepped to the edge of the dock, the waves splashing rhythmically below. “I suppose the two of you must be very happy.”

“Not really.”

“Oh, come off it. The heartburn I give Andie as an FBI agent doesn’t begin to compare to the political damage I did to you

as governor.”

“That’s water under the bridge, Jack. And even though I think this change can be a good thing, I always wanted it to be your idea. Like when I left politics. Agnes let it be my idea. Or at least she let me think it was my idea.”

Agnes was Harry’s late wife, Jack’s stepmother. “Andie does things her own way,” said Jack.

“Look, Jack. More than anything else, I want you and Andie to be happy. And I know this must be hard for you, redefining yourself

as a lawyer.”

“It is hard. Thank you for recognizing that.”

“I want to make this easier for you. I have a case.”

“What kind of case?”

“A civil case.”

“Sounds like you’re on Andie’s side.”

“I’m not on anybody’s side. It’s pro bono. And the stakes are higher than in any criminal case you’ve ever handled.”

“Dad, I don’t see how that’s possible. I’ve done death penalty cases.”

“I stand by my words: higher stakes.”

“Okay. What’s the case?”

“It was just filed in the United States District Court in Miami. John Doe v. Jane Doe .”

“Legal pseudonyms on both sides,” said Jack. “I’ve had only one case like that. I represented the victim of a sexual assault

suing her seventeen-year-old attacker.”

“This case raises secrecy concerns of a different kind. The parties are Iranian citizens.”

“Suing each other in federal court in Miami? How?”

“I wish I could tell you, but the complaint was filed under seal.”

“You’re asking me to take a case you know nothing about?”

“Not nothing. The case was filed under seal at the request of the US State Department. One of the parties—the woman who would

be your client—is a political hot potato in US-Iranian relations.”

“High stakes on a geopolitical level, is that it?”

“Aptly stated. I took the liberty of booking you a flight to Washington tomorrow morning.”

“To do what?”

“Myra Weiss was my chief legal counsel when I was governor. She’s now a big shot in Washington. She came to me because her

firm has a conflict and can’t accept the case. She needs a top-notch Miami trial lawyer who can take the heat from the White

House, the US State Department, and the Iranian government. So of course I thought of you.”

“That’s music to my ears, Dad. But things are pretty rough with Andie right now. If I’m going to draw heat from the US government

by representing an Iranian woman who’s a political hot potato, I probably should talk to Andie.”

“It’s a pro bono case, Jack. ‘For the good.’”

“So were my death penalty cases.”

A deep sigh crackled over the line. “Jack, I’m not asking for a favor. I’m doing you a favor. This is the kind of stuff you live for. It’s not a criminal case, but things could get just as bloody. If Andie

doesn’t like that, you can blame me.”

Hiding behind his father was more like the offer Jack would never accept than the proverbial offer he couldn’t refuse. But

it was the old man’s way of showing how much he cared, and for that, Jack was appreciative.

The moon broke through the clouds, and ripples of light rode across the waves toward the seawall. “All right, Dad. I’ll pay

Myra a visit.”