27

After their meeting with the Patriot, Paige Chambers and Bill Harris agreed to spend a few days researching the matter. If the information the Patriot had given them checked out, they would return to Washington and approach Congressman Mason from Virginia’s second congressional district. Paige also agreed to meet with Wyatt Jackson, though she wasn’t happy about it.

A few days after returning to Virginia Beach, Paige went to see Kristen and the boys. It was sad watching the boys play without their father. Kristen seemed less patient with them and finally herded them back to the bedroom so that she and Paige could talk alone.

They talked about the ceremony at Arlington, and both teared up. Kristen told a few more stories about Patrick’s and Troy’s exploits. She said that it if wasn’t for Patrick, Troy would never have made it through BUD/S.

It didn’t take long for their conversation to turn to the Patriot. Kristen didn’t know what to think. Paige shared her misgivings about Wyatt Jackson. She told Kristen about the rape case and how little respect she had for the way Jackson went about his business. She tried to keep her remarks measured, but she knew she wasn’t hiding her animosity very well.

“I hear you,” Kristen said, fiddling with her coffee cup. “But Troy loved Wyatt, and that man bailed Troy out on about three different occasions. I mean, you’re probably twice as smart as him, but the guy’s been around the block a few times, and I would just feel better with him involved.”

Paige wrestled with whether she should push the point. She had talked with Kristen almost every day since Patrick’s death, and the friendship meant so much to her. She didn’t want to jeopardize it over the involvement of Wyatt Jackson.

“Just think about it,” Paige said. “It’s fine with me either way, but I wanted to make sure you knew about my concerns.”

Kristen seemed content to let it drop, and Caleb came running out of the bedroom crying. Between sobs, he claimed that Justin had hit him and knocked him down. Tiny was standing next to Caleb, his tail wagging as if he were vouching for the little guy’s story. Kristen hugged her youngest son, told him he would be all right, and called for Justin to come out and face his accuser. Under cross-examination, Justin claimed total innocence. It was just an accident, and besides, Caleb had hit him first.

After she had restored some semblance of order and the two women were alone again, Kristen’s eyes filled with tears. Everything was still so raw. “I keep asking God why they have to grow up without a daddy,” she said.

Nobody would confuse the three lawyers who gathered at the KOA campground on General Booth Boulevard in Virginia Beach with the high-powered crowd that had gathered two days earlier in Washington, D.C. A few years ago, Wyatt Jackson had sold his house in an upscale golf course community, socked some of the money away in an offshore account, and used the rest to purchase a luxury motor home. He took it on the road when he tried out-of-town cases and lived at the KOA campground the rest of the year. Tonight, he had suggested that Paige meet him and his associate at “his office,” and she had reluctantly agreed.

It was a chilly April evening the first time Paige met Wyatt’s associate—a pudgy young lawyer named Wellington Farnsworth. He looked all of nineteen years old, with soft, pale skin, light-blond hair, and a round face that looked like he hadn’t started shaving yet. He wore a hoodie as the three lawyers pulled up chairs around a campfire Wyatt had built.

Despite Wellington’s boyish looks, Paige knew he should not be underestimated. He had graduated from Southeastern Law School at twenty-one at the top of his class. His job was to do Wyatt Jackson’s research, prepare outlines for Wyatt’s examination of witnesses, and compose legal briefs. In other words, Wellington did all the grunt work.

The three of them were joined by Wyatt’s golden retriever, a friendly mess of a dog that Wyatt called Clients.

“Clients?” Paige asked.

“Yeah,” Wellington said. “My cell phone is the firm’s general number, and when people say they need to talk to Mr. Jackson, I tell them he’s meeting with Clients.”

“And my RV is named Court,” Wyatt said.

What a crew, Paige thought.

Like Paige, Wellington and Wyatt had done some research on what the Patriot told them. Wyatt was convinced the information was legit. He lit up a cigar and puffed on it as they talked.

“What makes you so sure?” Paige asked. It was seven thirty, and the sun had just disappeared behind a row of trees.

“That stuff about the SEALs working for the CIA checked out,” Wyatt said proudly. He took a sip of beer and leaned back in his webbed chair, cigar smoke swirling around him. He was staring at the fire as he talked. “I had Wellington apply for some death benefits for Troy that are available only to CIA members. Sure enough, they confirmed that he would be eligible.”

Paige made a note to get that information later from Wellington. She should have thought of that herself.

“I did some research on the president’s Mideast policies,” Paige said, not to be outdone. “What I found lined up with the Patriot’s information.”

“Wellington did a short memo on that,” Wyatt offered. “At least it was supposed to be short. Turned out to be about fifty pages. Wellington, why don’t you send a copy to Paige?”

Wellington had his computer on his lap and typed in some notes. He had positioned himself under the lights of the RV so that he could see the keyboard better. “Done,” he said.

They talked for nearly an hour about the best course of action. Wyatt was on his third beer. Paige explained that she and Bill Harris were prepared to take the information to Congressman Mason. She would be happy for Kristen and Wyatt to join them.

“You too, Wellington,” Paige quickly added when she realized she had left him out.

Wyatt shrugged. “Actually, I was thinking about just filing suit.”

Paige gave him a courtesy chuckle, but he didn’t appear to be kidding. Wellington kept his head down, typing like mad.

“Wellington here tells me we don’t have much chance of success,” Wyatt said. He snuffed out the stub of his cigar and flicked it in the fire. “Says the president has absolute immunity. Says that soldiers involved in combat activities can’t file suit against government officials. Something called the Feres Doctrine. He’s got all kinds of reasons a lawsuit won’t work.”

Paige hadn’t even considered a lawsuit. What was the point in that?

“It doesn’t sound like a lawsuit would stand a chance,” she said.

“I told Wellington to find some exceptions,” Wyatt said. “I’m not about to turn this over to some congressional committee that we don’t control. If I file a lawsuit, I’m in control of the investigation.”

“Not if it gets thrown out on a motion to dismiss,” Paige countered. “It will just make the Anderson family look bad.”

“You don’t have to join us. In fact, it’d probably be better if you didn’t.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Paige said.

This was exactly the kind of thing she was concerned about. Wyatt Jackson was in it for the publicity. He was going to use this tragedy to get his name out there and claim his fifteen minutes of fame. And Paige couldn’t talk him out of it. Even though Wellington lent some tepid support, all of her arguments fell on deaf ears.

Wyatt finished his beer and tossed it toward a trash can, missing badly. “You sure I can’t get you one?” he asked Paige.

She just shook her head. His act was getting old.

“Sometimes you’ve got to start a fight to figure out how to win the fight,” Wyatt said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wyatt had his hands burrowed in the pockets of his windbreaker now. He was rubbing Clients’s belly with his foot.

“I’m not going to some congressman so they can nibble away at this in endless committee meetings. I’m going to sue these clowns for a few hundred million and get their attention. We’ll just punch them in the nose and see what happens. Like I said, sometimes you can’t figure out your strategy for winning a fight until the fight gets started. And this . . . well, this should be a heckuva good fight.”

The whole thing was nonsense to Paige. She told him as much, thanked him and Wellington for their time, and excused herself.

On the way home Paige called Kristen and told her about the conversation.

“I know he wants to file suit,” Kristen said. “I haven’t decided yet whether I will let him.”

“It’s got no merit. It’ll get dismissed, and Wyatt will get sanctioned,” Paige said.

“I’m not worried about any of that. I just don’t want the whole SEAL community turning against me.”

Paige hadn’t even thought about that angle. “You need that community,” she said. “They’ll be your lifeline long after Wyatt Jackson has moved on to the next case.”

“I get all that. But sometimes I just want to fight back against somebody.”