Part 30 (2/2)

He's standing in the hallway, his hands still cuffed behind his back, when he sees his family from a distance, making their way down the long corridor.

Cynthia is flanked on either side by Lindsay and Samantha, as if they're holding her upright. As they approach, Cynthia rubs her eyes, apparently deciding that she's going to try to hold it together for this farewell. His daughters, by contrast, make no effort to stem their tears.

The girls envelop him, and Aaron takes in the sensation of being sandwiched between them. As much as he wants to lose himself completely in this feeling, he can't quell the fear that he'll never again experience his children's touch.

”It's going to be okay,” he says, trying to maintain his composure.

”Girls,” Cynthia says, ”we'll see your father very soon, but you need to say good-bye to him for now. I'd like to have a few moments alone with him, please.”

There is a final squeeze by both of them, and Samantha says, ”I love you, Daddy.” True to form, Lindsay says only, ”ILY,” which Aaron has learned stands for I love you.

The girls walk away, and as Aaron watches them leave, Cynthia says, ”What happened in chambers?”

Aaron hesitates for a moment, not wanting to raise Cynthia's hopes unnecessarily. But there's no way he can keep this from his wife.

”You're not going to believe this, but Sam just confessed to killing her.”

”What?”

”I know. He said he killed her.”

”Then why aren't you free?”

Aaron smiles. If only it were that easy, he thinks.

”It doesn't work like that,” he says. ”Donnelly doesn't believe him. She said he was just giving himself up to spare me. Surrogate-father stuff. The judge didn't know what the h.e.l.l to do. So she said that I'm to stay in custody and she'll hold a hearing tomorrow morning. She told Sam to bring whatever evidence he has to convince her that he's the one that should be going to jail and not me.”

”Do you think it's true? Could Sam have done such a thing?”

Before Aaron can answer, two guards are upon him.

”Time's up,” one of them says.

They are not gentle. One spins Aaron as if he's a piece of furniture and then the other pushes him square in the back so that he'll start to walk. He turns around for a brief moment to capture a last look at his wife, and he sees that she is sobbing.

AARON SPENDS THE NIGHT alone in a cell in the MCC. He doesn't sleep at all, which gives him plenty of hours to think through the last few months.

When Sam Rosenthal first announced he was Faith's killer, Aaron thought it was exactly what Donnelly said-a stunt, by which the old man was trying to spare Aaron. But alone, thinking it through, it makes much more sense.

Aaron has one great advantage over everyone else-the FBI, Victoria Donnelly, Rachel, and even Cynthia-because he knows that he did not kill Faith.

And if not him, then who?

Garkov or Stuart Christensen. One of them makes the most sense. They both had motive, and because they both knew about the affair, it made perfect sense for either one of them to use Faith's cell phone to throw suspicion onto Aaron.

But it also makes perfect sense that when he left Faith in Central Park, with her nomination in peril, she reached out to Sam Rosenthal to fix things. She must have misdialed, calling Aaron's office number out of habit, as she had so many times during the Matthews trial. His number differed from Rosenthal's only by the last digit being a two instead of a one. If Faith had gotten Aaron's voice mail, hung up, and redialed Rosenthal . . . everything would have played out differently. But instead she must have hit zero and asked the firm's receptionist to redirect her call to its intended recipient.

For the balance of three minutes and three seconds, Faith Nichols must have explained her dilemma to Rosenthal, seeking his help, either to control his partner or to smooth things with Senator Kheel.

The wrong number was apparently not Faith's only mistake, however. She made a much graver error in failing to realize that Rosenthal would conclude that it was easier to fix his problems by killing her than to try to salvage her nomination.

62.

Aaron's wearing the orange jumpsuit that brands him a convict and is shackled by the hands and feet as he's led back to the courtroom the following morning. The first thing he notices when the side door opens is that none other than Fitz is sitting at counsel table, with Victoria Donnelly in the seat next to him. Sam Rosenthal sits at the defense table, a vacant chair separating him and Rachel London.

The gallery is empty. Judge Siskind must have closed the courtroom, because Aaron can't imagine that anything short of a judicial order could keep Cynthia away. Not to mention the press.

At the MCC, Aaron had been cut off from all news, and he was brought into the courthouse through an internal pa.s.sageway, thereby avoiding the media. Nevertheless, he's sure that there must be an all-out frenzy in front of the building. It's not every day that one well-respected lawyer confesses to the murder of a federal judge for which another well-respected lawyer has just been found guilty.

As Aaron takes his place between Rosenthal and Rachel, Sam offers him the saddest-looking smile Aaron's ever seen. He places his hand on Aaron's shoulder, but before either of them can say anything, they are interrupted by three loud knocks on the door frame leading to the judge's chambers.

”All rise,” the court officer announces.

Judge Siskind approaches the bench with a sense of purpose. A step behind her are two younger women. The black-haired woman who gave the stenographer her chair the previous day sits below the bench, in the same position she occupied during the trial. The other must be Judge Siskind's second law clerk, who to Aaron's recollection never set foot in the courtroom during the trial. She takes a seat in the unoccupied jury box, no doubt anxious to see the show that's about to begin.

”Please be seated,” Judge Siskind says after she sits down. ”I've closed the courtroom today because I thought it was best to avoid any unwanted commotion. However, there is a stenographer present, and it is not my intention to seal today's transcript. That means this hearing will be a matter of public record.” She looks up. ”Counsel, please state your appearances.”

The prosecution team stands. ”Good morning, Your Honor. Thomas J. Fitzpatrick, United States attorney for the Southern District of New York, for the United States.” Fitz apparently sees no need to mention Donnelly because after introducing himself, he sits down.

Rosenthal stands and says, ”Samuel Rosenthal of the law firm Cromwell Altman Rosenthal and White. Because I'm obviously conflicted, my partner Rachel London is with me. With the court's permission, she will represent Mr. Littman in these proceedings.”

”Is it your intention to represent yourself, Mr. Rosenthal?” Judge Siskind asks.

”It is,” he says calmly, and then sits down.

”Thank you,” Judge Siskind says. ”What I'm going to do today is hear from Mr. Rosenthal. At this point, Mr. Rosenthal, all I want you to do is set forth whatever evidence you have to support your claim that you, and not Mr. Littman, murdered Judge Faith Nichols. After you've laid that out, we can talk about how to present the evidence so that the prosecution has an opportunity to cross-examine. I realize that's a bit unorthodox but . . . well, let's be frank, this is an unusual situation.”

Rosenthal bends over to the leather duffel bag beside him on the floor. Aaron didn't see it when he entered the courtroom, but he watches intently as Rosenthal pulls out a white plastic trash bag with red string ties. Then Rosenthal methodically opens the bag and withdraws its contents, holding it carefully on the ends to avoid contaminating it.

It's his cane. A different one from the cane that rests beside him now, but Aaron realizes at once that this is the weapon that Rosenthal used to kill Faith.

Rosenthal stands and holds the cane in front of him, as if it's a trophy he's just won.

”This is the murder weapon, Your Honor,” he says in an expressionless voice. ”It still has blood and other evidence that will prove it was used to kill Judge Nichols. And while I fully appreciate the fact that my fingerprints on it will not be persuasive, any number of people can confirm that it is my cane, and that I used it on a regular basis prior to the murder.”

He gently lays the cane on defense counsel table. Apparently he sees no reason to say anything further, because he then sits.

As if a baton has been pa.s.sed, Rachel rises. ”Your Honor . . . at this time, the defense requests that you grant judgment notwithstanding the verdict, pursuant to Rule Thirty-Three of the Federal Rules of Criminal Procedure, and release Mr. Littman from custody.”

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