Chapter 8

Jack got home very late Monday night. He opened the front door quietly, praying not to set off the alarm and wake Andie, Righley,

and the entire neighborhood. The living room was dark, save for the amber glow of the streetlight through the picture window.

Their vintage 1950s house had its share of creaky old floorboards, but Jack knew the exact location of each one. Slowly, like

a soldier through a minefield, he started across the room, careful not to step on the wrong plank.

“Jack?”

The unexpected voice in the darkness nearly stopped Jack’s heart. “Andie?”

She was a silhouette on the couch, wearing her robe and slippers. Their golden retriever was asleep at her feet, too old now

to run to the door and greet him the way he used to, back in the day when poor Max must have thought that every time Jack

walked out the door he was planning never to return. Jack wasn’t sure why Andie had waited up, but her next words were the

four most ominous in any relationship.

“We need to talk,” she said.

Jack caught his breath and took a seat beside her on the couch. “Now?”

“No, I waited up to tell you we need to talk tomorrow.”

“Good point.”

She repositioned herself on the couch, putting enough distance between them to face Jack as she spoke. “We agreed that you

would cut back on your criminal caseload.”

“If this is about Zahra Bazzi, that’s not a criminal case.”

Andie sighed. “Yes, which is like saying oral sex is not sex. I was called into a videoconference this morning with the State

Department.”

“About my case?”

“About your case and Zahra’s sister, Ava. They told me they had the same meeting with you, so don’t play dumb.”

Jack connected the dots. “They want you to make sure I don’t make my case about the disappearance of Ava Bazzi. Is that it?”

“Okay, before you get up on your ‘This is America’ soapbox, just calm down and listen to me. I’m not going to tell you how

to try your case. I would never do that, any more than you would tell me how to conduct an FBI investigation.”

Jack was feeling a little better. “Thank you.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled away.

“I’m not finished.”

“I’m listening,” said Jack.

“A marriage between an FBI agent and a criminal defense lawyer isn’t easy.”

“No marriage is easy.”

“Right. But we agreed in our last session with Dr. Stanger that living our professional lives in information silos, unable

to talk to one another about our jobs like a normal husband and wife, wasn’t good for our marriage.”

“Which is why we agreed to relax the Rule.”

“We also agreed that you would shift more toward civil cases, away from criminal. But then right out of the starting block,

you take on a high-profile civil case that puts you opposite the US State Department.”

“Like I said, this is not a criminal case.”

“It’s worse. Unlike any criminal case you’ve ever had, it puts me right in the middle, between you and the US government.”

“Are you asking me to drop the case?”

With that question, Jack could see that he’d put his finger on the source of Andie’s angst. She couldn’t possibly make that

ask.

“Without a good lawyer, a six-year-old girl will never see her mother again,” said Andie. “Yasmin goes back to Iran to live

in the sole custody of an abusive father. What tune would I be whistling if we were talking about Righley, instead of Yasmin?”

“So, you’re actually happy I have this case.”

She chuckled with exasperation. “No, I’m not happy .”

“I’m totally confused,” said Jack.

“Look at this from my perspective. The rub, as I have always seen it, is that your criminal defense work always put you adverse

to law enforcement, adverse to the FBI—to the people I see at work every day. I asked you to cut back on your criminal work.

You agreed. And I was so grateful for that. I thought I had come up with the solution to our problem.”

“It will take time. I can’t just drop all my criminal cases.”

“Don’t drop anything. There’s no point.”

“Now I’m beyond totally confused.”

“This new case proves that my proposed solution accomplishes nothing.”

“That’s a little hasty, don’t you think?”

“No, it’s obvious. Getting ambushed by the State Department was the realization of my worst nightmare. Don’t you see what

that tells us, Jack?”

“It tells us that your solution didn’t work in this case. But the verdict is still out. It could still be a good solution.”

“No, Jack,” she said, breathing out the words. “It tells us there is no solution.”

Jack felt chills. “What are you saying, Andie?”

Her eyes glistened, and even in the dim lighting, Jack could see that she was on the verge of tears.

“That makes me so sad, Jack. Really sad—for us.”

Jack struggled to sound positive. “Hey, come on now. This is us. We can work this out.”

“I’ve tried so hard.”

“Let’s talk about this.”

“I’m exhausted.”

“Let’s talk it out with Dr. Laura,” he said, alluding to the radio talk show host.

She tried to smile. “Dr. Stanger.”

“Yes. Dr. Stanger. I’ll even make the appointment.”

“Let me sleep on it.” She rose and started across the room, but she wasn’t headed toward the master bedroom. She stopped at

the entrance to the kitchen, then turned.

“Good night, Jack.”

Jack heard the scuff of her slippers on the floor as she continued down the hall to Righley’s room. Max finally woke and immediately

looked for Andie.

“Et tu, Brute?” asked Jack.

Max just wagged his tail, as if everything he did was an act of love, then followed Andie’s trail into the bedroom.

And the door closed.