Am I having a conversation with myself?” Gina asked.
Too late, Deke responded to what she was saying. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head in annoyance. “When you started talking about Bines, I got this feeling that I was missing something, but couldn’t put my finger on it. That always drives me crazy.”
The two lawyers were brainstorming the potential story lines for the Welcome Mat case in the smallest of the firm’s conference rooms. Deke believed trials were won or lost through the story that was presented. Complex cases needed to be simplified for the jury. That didn’t mean dumbing matters down; it meant making them understandable. Deke had earned a reputation for making things look simple to juries, but as he often said, “Nothing is more difficult than simple.”
Gina said, “I was talking about the pushback we can expect from Bines when we personalize the narrative of our Jane Does. By putting them on the stand early, we can humanize them and show the jury that they’re victims and flawed humans, not the dregs of society they might imagine. I said the only problem with that is it will allow Bines to tangle us up in the weeds by hammering them on their own complicity and participation in the sex trade.”
Deke chewed on his lip. “That’s it, but it’s not it. One moment I feel like I’m close to the answer, and the next it’s gone.”
“We could do word association and play a game of hot and cold.”
“I don’t want to waste our time. It will come to me. Or it won’t. Let’s get back to the story.”
Gina said, “I think we need to introduce Jake’s undercover videos early in our presentation. That will demonstrate the complicity of Welcome Mat’s truck stop management working in tandem with human traffickers.”
“And we should follow that up with the testimonies of our hospitality witnesses, the truck stop attendants and motel desk clerks.”
“We know Bines will try to counter that testimony by citing chapter and verse of Welcome Mat’s official anti-trafficking corporate policies,” Gina said. “The onus will be on us to show that’s merely lip service, and that their self-policing has not only been woefully inadequate, but demonstrably disingenuous.”
Deke didn’t respond. Once more, Gina’s bringing up Bines had waylaid his thoughts into trying to identify what was bothering him.
“Warm?” Gina asked.
“I guess my subconscious is insisting upon that game of hot and cold. Keep talking.”
“After we finish with the former Welcome Mat employees, that would be a good time to put our expert witness on the stand and let him talk about how he’s successfully trained employees on how to observe signs of human trafficking. Of course, that’s when Bines will jump on his soapbox and start talking about governmental intrusion, and how businesses shouldn’t be required to be their brother’s keeper, and that in a free society the onus shouldn’t be on the business to interrogate its clients. That’s when we redirect his red flags by pointing out that you don’t need to be a rocket scientist to identify human trafficking, nor do you need to ask twenty questions of your clientele.”
Deke held up his index finger, as if touching something. “Warmer,” he said.
The thought was almost there.
Gina tried some word association. “Bines. Soapbox. Free society. Defender of businesses. Guardian of individual freedoms. Creator of smoke screens.”
Deke’s finger jabbed out. “Hot.”
“You got it?”
“We need to turn the heat up on Bines,” Deke said. “We need to come at him and make it look as if we’re not only gunning for him personally, but for those hiding in the shadows.”
“Bines will know it’s a fishing expedition. There’s no way he’ll rise to the bait.”
“Normally, I’d agree with you,” Deke said. “But in this instance, I believe no one will be happier with our pursuing a new and aggressive agenda than would Nathan Bines.”
“What leads you to believe that?”
“An anonymous source,” Deke said.
He was about to explain further, but was stopped by Carol’s appearance at the doorway. “One of your billboards in Jacksonville struck pay dirt! Guess who’s on his way to the detention facility at the Leon County Jail in Tallahassee?”
Deke was already on his feet. “What’s his ETA?”
“No later than two o’clock.”
It was a three-hour drive to Tallahassee, but that would allow enough time for Deke to be there to greet Rodríguez, as well as make arrangements with his welcome committee.
“Sorry,” he said to Gina. “Got to run.”
And he did just that, racing from the office.
Under her breath, Gina muttered, “Cold. Really cold.”