“Thank you,” she said formally and pulled herself together. She didn’t know why this investigation had gotten under her skin. She prided herself on maintaining a level of detachment from the victims, the surviving family, and law enforcement. But lately, she’d found herself more wrapped up in the lives of the people involved in an investigation than she was comfortable with. She couldn’t seem to find the personal detachment that had served her well for so long.
Max followed Ron down the wide hallway, which turned before reaching double doors with CHARLES NORTH engraved on a gold plaque. The assistant knocked, waited for permission to enter, then grandly opened both doors.
“Ms. Maxine Revere,” Ron announced formally.
North rose from his desk and crossed the large corner office. Blair wasn’t in the room.
He took her hand. “Ms. Revere, I’m Charles North. We spoke on the phone.” He turned to his assistant. “Ron, please sit with Mrs. Caldwell until I need her.”
“Yes, sir.” Ron closed the doors on his way out.
North motioned for Max to sit at a conference table that could comfortably sit twelve. He sat at the head. Common tactic. Max smiled and took a seat two down from him. “Thank you for arranging this meeting.”
“As I told you last week,” North said, “I disapprove of Mr. Caldwell’s investigation and his ill-conceived theory. He is a man grasping at straws who doesn’t understand the legal system and the primary goal of my team. Our goal is for the jury to return a not guilty verdict. We believe that the State will not be able to prove their case against my client.”
As with many lawyers who Max had met over the years, North spoke clearly and formally.
“You indicated during our earlier conversation that the prosecution lacked evidence, but you were not specific.”
“I will not outline our legal strategy to the media prior to trial. As I also said over the phone, I would consent to an interview after the trial is concluded. It is my understanding that you will be covering the trial for NET?”
It was worded as a question, because Max hadn’t actually said anything about media involvement in Blair’s trial.
“NET will be covering the trial.”
“But not you?”
“Either myself or Ace Burley, NET’s crime reporter.” She didn’t want to cover the trial, but she was already out here. She might be stuck with it. NET gave her a lot of leeway to run her show and her investigations as she wanted—a condition of her agreeing to host Maximum Exposure in the first place. So when they asked for something—like coverage of a trial—she generally agreed. It was her least favorite aspect of her job.
“Then what is your interest in this case? Other than the fact that you’re John Caldwell’s ex-girlfriend.”
Had John or Blair told the lawyer about her relationship with John? She hadn’t expected the information to be kept secret, but she certainly hadn’t intended to lead with the fact that she’d dated John for a year while they were both at Columbia University.
Max leaned back in the leather chair. “Mr. North, Blair already agreed to talk to me. Please bring her in.”
“I advised Mrs. Caldwell not to speak with you. She overruled me, but be aware that she is only doing this for her husband. I ask that you consider that before using anything she says.”
Max already suspected that Blair agreed to talk to her because John wanted it. She said, “Over the past decade, I have covered dozens of trials, investigated hundreds of cold cases, and interviewed thousands of witnesses, victims, suspects, and family members.”
“Your point, Ms. Revere?”
“You have a job, I have a job. Let me do my job. Because whether or not Blair Caldwell speaks to me is irrelevant. I’m not packing up and going home.”
Charles sighed. “I doubted you would, though I had hoped.”
“Does the truth scare you?”
“The truth is subjective.”
Max laughed, but she wasn’t amused. “Truth is objective. It’s neither good nor bad. It’s what we do with the truth that is subjective, because we are flawed.”
The defense lawyer sat there for a moment. “I think you and the Caldwells are making a huge mistake.”
“I’m not making a mistake,” Max said. “I can’t speak for John or Blair.” She leaned forward, kept her voice calm and friendly. She may not be able to sway the lawyer, but she didn’t want him to actively oppose her efforts. “Charles, I have one question for you and I promise that I will not quote you, I will not even mention the situation except for what has already been reported in the press.”
“I can’t promise to answer, but you may ask.”
“The local news reported a leak out of the DA’s office that they’d offered Blair a plea deal and she declined. I’m not asking for the details,” she added quickly, knowing what his primary objection would be, “but did you recommend to your client to accept or decline?”
He stared at her for a long moment. He would make an outstanding poker player—maybe that’s why he was so good as a trial lawyer.
“Wait here.”
He walked out of the interview room without answering her question.
She liked him.
Charles North was a top criminal defense attorney, and his firm wasn’t cheap. He’d made his name after defending a professional athlete charged with killing his mistress. The jury had been hung, and the prosecution retried the case, and then lost—a not guilty verdict. North had made a small fortune on the two trials, but the ballplayer had walked free. Max didn’t know if he was guilty or innocent. She’d never looked into the case. But North had been praised by his colleagues, including the prosecution, for his professionalism.
She’d always wondered what motivated lawyers to specialize in criminal defense. Some, perhaps, because of the money. A big defense trial could be extremely lucrative. She’d known enough lawyers in her life to know that most didn’t take cases out of some noble cause of righting wrongs, believing that their clients were always innocent and they were champions of a corrupt court system. Most treated their clients as a job. They did due diligence, ensured legal rules were followed, and worked out plea deals to the benefit of their clients. The most noble—for lack of a better word—defense lawyers believed in the system just as much as the prosecution. They went into practice because they believed in their hearts and souls that every person, rich or poor, black or white, deserved a fair trial. That the goal wasn’t to win or lose per se, but to ensure that the police behaved, that the prosecution played aboveboard, that the accused was treated appropriately. And yes, that the evidence was fair and untainted.
North’s goal was clearly to get a not guilty verdict, which didn’t mean he thought his client was innocent. That only meant he thought the prosecution had no case.
There was no way in hell the DA or the cops would meet with Max. She’d gone through the motions—if necessary, she could say so-and-so declined to comment. But she wasn’t expecting a quote or cooperation. The only way Max could learn about the case was through the defense and it was clear North wouldn’t give her anything—except allowing her to talk to his client against his advice.
She was going to have to get everything she could out of Blair Caldwell.
Sometimes what someone said—or didn’t say—wasn’t as important as how they behaved.