72

For Nikki, the next few days blurred together. She walked through life in a haze, too numb to appreciate the outpouring of love and grief at the passing of her judge. It was almost as if her own soul had detached from her body the day Oliver Finney died, as if she now floated above events, observing them from a distance.

She felt like a zombie at the viewing—a somber affair where she waited in line for two hours just for a glimpse of Finney’s lifeless body.

“He looks good,” she heard someone whisper, and Nikki almost went off on the woman. Finney had hated flattery, and to be honest, he looked terrible—the piercing eyes now closed, the ornery smile gone forever. His face looked like a wrinkled Halloween mask, and Nikki could detect the touch-up job on his cheek and forehead. She determined on the spot that her funeral would be a closed-casket affair.

The next day Nikki slipped into the funeral late, dreading the emotions it would conjure up. A pew near the front was reserved for Finney’s clerks, but she didn’t want to join the others. Somehow it felt as if her relationship with Finney was much more than that. Nikki had lost a father, not just a judge.

She squeezed into the back row of the balcony, away from the people she knew, preferring to deal with her emotions alone. She had seen many people cry these past few days, but she hadn’t shed many tears of her own. She felt guilty for not crying more, as if she couldn’t even mourn Finney properly.

The pastor handled the service masterfully, refusing to preach a sermon or even deliver a eulogy. Finney’s life, he said, was its own sermon. Through it Finney spoke so powerfully that words could never do it justice. The pastor sat down, soft music started, and the large screens were filled with images of the judge Nikki loved.

Whoever put the video together knew Finney well. It started with a court clerk calling the court to order (“The Honorable Oliver G. Finney presiding”), and Nikki almost stood out of instinct. Next, Finney banged a gavel, and the highlight film began. It made everyone laugh and most everyone cry. It ended with Finney’s compelling opening statement on Paradise Island—the story of Peter’s martyrdom. “O thou, remember the Lord,” Finney said, quoting the apostle’s last words.

And then the screen faded to black.

The pastor opened the mikes for impromptu testimonies about the judge, and lines formed down both aisles. The Swami made everybody laugh. Lawyers talked about a man of justice. And Victoria Kline shocked the audience when she promised everyone that she would see Finney again someday. “He taught me how to sail on Paradise Island,” she said as she swallowed back the tears. “And he restored my faith in God.”

The irony was not lost on Nikki. Kline, the show’s handpicked atheist, was so moved by Finney’s sacrifice that she testified about a newfound faith. But Randolph, the self-proclaimed Seeker who had sponsored the show, was largely unaffected by the events that cost Finney his life. “I’m still trying to decide where I come out on all this,” Randolph reportedly told the press. “The prize money for the show will be split among all the religious groups represented.”

It was Kareem Hasaan, however, who affected Nikki the most. He walked stoically to the podium, dressed in his finest black custom-fit suit. The entire room fell silent as he took a deep breath and stared out over the heads of those who had gathered. “The Bible says that ‘no one has greater love than this, that someone would lay down his life for his friends.’ On this point, the Bible is right. I loved Oliver Finney. And there is no question that Oliver Finney demonstrated his love for me.” And that was it. Simple. Direct. And Kareem Hasaan returned to his seat.

After the service, Nikki climbed into her Sebring and followed the entourage to the cemetery, the emptiness gnawing at her wounded heart. She fought back tears as she approached the entrance, the road lined on each side with lawyers of all stripes, standing like soldiers in the ninety-degree heat, wearing their black and dark-blue suits, hands over their hearts.

She stayed on the fringes at the grave site as the pastor read a few verses of Scripture and spoke comforting words that Nikki was too far away to hear. Somebody sang a stirring rendition of “Amazing Grace,” and eventually the crowd began to disperse. Nikki politely accepted the condolences of friends and shuffled away to a spot under a nearby tree. For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to leave yet.

The crowd had thinned considerably when he started walking toward her. He had a bounce in his step and a quick smile even as others walked slowly with their heads down.

“You must be Judge O’s beautiful and brilliant law clerk.” The Swami extended his hand. Nikki couldn’t help but blush—this guy was a celebrity. “He talked about you all the time,” the Swami added. And then, with a mischievous grin, he said, “And I can see why.”

The blush intensified, but Nikki ascribed it to the heat. What were the rules for flirting at a funeral? She settled for an uncharacteristically demure “Thanks.”

“Can you hold on for a second?” the Swami asked. “I’ll be right back.”

And before Nikki could tell him that she had voted for him, the Swami jogged off toward his car. A few minutes later, he returned.

“Judge O gave me this,” he said, extending Finney’s worn Bible toward Nikki. “But I wanted to give it to you.”

“I couldn’t take that. It’s—”

“Nikki,” the Swami interrupted, “let me explain first and then you can decide.”

Over the next few minutes, the Swami explained the pinprick cipher and the way Finney had given the Swami this Bible the last time they were together. The Swami placed a ribbon at the beginning of the book of John so Nikki would know where to start.

“I decoded the message,” the Swami said. “It’s a message for you. Part of it tells you where Finney stashed a tape that could be evidence of the murder conspiracy on Paradise Island. But the rest of it is a personal P.S., though you should probably ignore everything in chapters 7 through 11.” He held it toward Nikki again, and this time she reached for it. “I thought you should have it—” but the Swami didn’t let go when Nikki tried to take it—“in exchange for your phone number, of course.”

“The judge warned me about guys like you,” Nikki said with a half smile. But she gave him her phone number anyway. And then, after the Swami had left, Nikki sat down on the ground and began deciphering the message.

As the Swami had explained, the first part was mainly logistical, Finney the judge making sure the evidence all lined up. But starting in John 5, he plotted out a personal message for Nikki. She could barely finish deciphering the text as the tears began dripping down her cheeks.

Years ago I prayed for a daughter. You have been the answer to those prayers. I’m so proud of you. Love, Oliver

Her heart bursting, Nikki continued to turn the pages. And then, in the verses between chapters 7 and 11, Judge Finney’s code produced a P.S.:

One more thing. Whatever he says, don’t fall for the Swami. You can do better than that.

Though the tears didn’t slow down, she couldn’t beat back the smile. And in her mind’s eye, she could see Finney plotting out the letters.

The judge, of course, was winking.