Beneath the Palisade (11 page)

“I’m Ian.”

“Where’s Callahan? I know this is his… house.”

“He’s….” He didn’t have a clue how to handle this situation. Turning, he hollered up the stairs, “Harper? Please come down.”

“Who are you? The boyfriend?” Phyllis shook her head in disgust. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

Ian was spared having to respond when Harper stepped through the door, positioning himself between them. He moved to the side so he could watch from the window.

“Phyllis, you showing up here, at my home, is absolutely unacceptable.”

“You think I give a shit what you think, faggot?”

Ian, fearful Harper might do something he would later regret, reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll tell
you
what’s unacceptable. It’s your goddamn disrespect.” Phyllis moved up a step, but Harper held his ground. “I won’t have it. You work for me. Me! What about that can’t you understand?”

“Apparently about as much as you understood from our conversation a few minutes ago. By being here, you’re not doing a thing to help your situation. I hope you know that.”

“That’s my point, you idiot. I don’t have a situation. You have a situation. And your situation is about to get a fuck of a lot worse. I will make your life so goddamned miserable if you don’t start shaping up, you’ll wish you were never born. Never born, understand me?”

“It’s been a lovely little visit, Phyllis. I can’t thank you enough for stopping by. Now if you’ll please excuse us—”

“Keep it up, Callahan.” Ian watched from Harper’s side as Phyllis stepped down. “I’ll wipe that smug little smirk off your face, you can count on it. You work for me. Got it?” Taking a few steps down the walk, she turned back. “Impressive little shit shack you have.”

Phyllis stomped down the walk, climbed into the car she had left running in the middle of the street, slammed it into gear, and in her attempt to make a hasty retreat, drove up over the curb as she rounded the corner.

“Wow.” Ian wasn’t sure what he’d just witnessed. “She’s insane.”

Harper started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Ian asked, unable to find any humor in Phyllis’s visit.

Harper pointed to the end of the sidewalk where it met the curb. “I saw it earlier but forgot to go out and pick it up.” He was laughing so hard, he had to lean into the side of the house for support.

Ian walked down the steps in hopes of spotting what had triggered Harper’s funny bone. It didn’t take him long. The streetlight captured it beautifully. Right where Harper had pointed sat a Marmaduke pile of dog crap with a petite footprint planted right in the middle of it.

“Shit shack,” Harper roared.

“
H
ARPER
, wake up. You’re having a bad dream. Harper, wake up.” Ian grabbed Harper’s shoulder and gently shook it.

Since having it out with Phyllis Flynn the other night, Harper hadn’t been sleeping well. He’d been tormented by a series of violent dreams. This was by far the worst.

“Harper, Harper, it’s me, Ian.”

“What? Oh God, oh….” Harper propped himself up with one arm and blinked to get his bearings. Droplets of sweat trickled down from his hairline. “I’m sorry. I was having another one of those awful dreams.”

“I know, sweetie, I know. Stay right here, I’ll be back in a minute.” He got up and walked to the bathroom, returning with a large bath towel. “You’re soaking wet. Here.” He dried Harper’s face and chest. “Lift your arms.”

When he’d finished toweling him off, he stood and walked around to Harper’s side of the bed, straightening out the sheets and the coverlet. “Do you remember any of your dream?”

“I was coming out of the courthouse,”—Harper snuggled up to him when he had returned to his side of the bed—“and no matter where I turned, people were lashing out and chasing me. Reporters, Phyllis, everyone. It was like they were hunting me. I couldn’t get away. I want this case to be over with so badly.”

“Oh, baby.” He invited Harper, still breathing heavily, into his arms. Ian gently petted and stroked his man. “It will all be over soon.”

“I had no idea the Flynns would take such a toll on me,” Harper confessed. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been here. As crappy as things are right now, having you in my life has meant so much. Knowing you’ll be here when I get home at night, no matter when that is, is so comforting. I hope one day I can repay you for all you’re doing.”

Ian rested his head on Harper’s shoulder. “You make it sound like work. I’ve been waiting for years to play house with the right man. Hey, you got home too late to see, but most of the planting is done in the backyard. I had to do it in the rain, but that’s a good time to plant. It’s easier on the product.”

“I can’t wait to see.” Harper yawned, pulling Ian’s arm tighter across his chest.

“When you think about it, all this time you’ve been wrapped up in this case, you sure haven’t missed any nice spring days.” Ian wasn’t sure what would be comforting at this point.

“This summer is going to be so much fun. I can’t wait to be at your opening game.” Harper seemed to melt into him.

“Do you have any idea how proud I will feel knowing you’re there?” He kissed the top of Harper’s head, still moist from the bad dream. “Listen, I know how much pressure you’re under now.” He wanted to make sure Harper understood this. “I’m here for you. Let me help you if I can.”

“Right now, being held by you is exactly what I need.” Harper snuggled closer.

“I know I could never do it,” Ian admitted with another kiss.

“It’s a job. Nothing more, nothing less.” Harper turned onto his side and backed into him. “But I have to tell you, and this is just between you and I, Phyllis Flynn hasn’t done her husband any favors. The judge is going to throw the book at her, not Jasper. Poor guy. He’s going to be one of those people who, after a year or so in prison, gets sick and dies. He’ll gradually shut down.”

Ian looked over at the clock on Harper’s side of the bed. It read three thirty. “Try and fall back to sleep. I’m here to watch out for you. I won’t go anywhere. And”—he gently nibbled at Harper’s ear—“I love you.”

“Mmm….” Harper yawned large. “I love you too.”

H
ARPER
woke the morning of the sentencing to one of Minnesota’s perennial spring insults, snow showers. He showered and dressed, and when he got downstairs, Ian had an egg, toast, and coffee waiting.

“What’s it like the morning of a sentencing?” Ian handed him a steaming mug.

“It’s fine. The press will be all over the place. That puts a different spin on things. Look at this weather, dreary and cold.” He glanced out the window at the backyard. All of Ian’s hard work was blanketed with a light dusting of snow.

I’d give anything to spend today with Ian.

Harper was surprised at how relaxed he felt. The writing was on the wall. Jasper Flynn was sure to be awarded one of the harshest sentences possible despite his pleas for leniency. All anyone could do at this point was let the process run its course. And that’s what made it so hard to leave this morning. Whether he was at the sentencing or not, the outcome would be the same.

“What do you do on days like this?” Harper sipped his piping hot coffee cautiously.

“Further into the season, I can use rain days to catch up on invoicing, ordering, maybe some sketching and planning. But business isn’t there yet for me to have anything to catch up on. I think I’ll go over to my apartment and pick up a few more things. Then I’ll stop by Andy’s and see if I can help him out. If you get a chance, give me a call and let me know how things are going.” Ian walked over and wrapped his arms around Harper. “I wish you didn’t have to go in this morning. I can think of more than one thing I could do to you on a day like today.”

“You stop!” Harper begged, accepting a smooch on the lips. “I’m already dreading the rest of the day. Oh man, I lost track of the time. I have to run. I’ll call you, I promise.”

Harper spent much of the day reviewing a new pro bono case involving a woman who had voluntarily surrendered her three children because she was unable to control her methamphetamine addiction. Now that she was clean, she was having second thoughts and had hired an attorney to help get them back. The guardian ad litem, a county employee who monitored the situation, advised the mother was still a risk. Harper had been asked to defend the county’s opinion. An hour before he was scheduled to leave for the courthouse, he reviewed his sentencing notes and, for the first time all day, felt the familiar pangs of nervousness. Minutes before they were to leave, his assistant, Brent, showed up at his office door.

“Hey, Harper. Ready to head out?”

“I can’t find my phone. Have you seen my phone?” Frustrated for being such a scatterbrain, Harper searched his desk and bookshelves.

Brent joined the search, finding the phone buried underneath a pile of case notes.

“Sorry, I thought I looked there.” He tucked it in his coat pocket.

“Do you want me to call Mrs. Flynn?” Brent had a history of winning over difficult clients and most likely viewed Phyllis Flynn as a prime test of his considerable people skills.

“Thanks, but no. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I’ll call her when we get in the car. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if she was a no-show. She doesn’t care about Jasper and probably has a nail appointment she can’t miss.”

“Duncan and Arthur are already on their way over.” Brent glanced down at his notes.

“Great! You ready for this?” He stepped out of the office.

“I know it’s not going to be under the best circumstances, but I’m looking forward to being in court with you.” Brent trailed Harper out the door.

He knew Brent was excited. Harper was glad he’d thought to include him. On the way to the car, he called Ian.

“Burke Landscaping.”

“Ian.” He’d fallen in love with Ian’s voice too.
Love… it’s everything they said it would be and more!

“Oh hey, Harper.”

“I’m off to the sentencing. If you have access to a television, there might be some local coverage after four. I’ll try not to be in tears.” He opened the car door and hopped in.

“I’m at Jungle Gems helping Andy out. I’ll run into his office and check it out. I love you. See you at the house later.”

“I love you too. Bye!” Glancing over at Brent, he figured now was as good a time as any for an Ian update.

“I have a new man in my life, as you might have already guessed from the favor you did for me the other day. His name is Ian Burke, and he’s a landscaper. I thought you should know, as you’ll probably at some point be talking to him.” He looked over to Brent for a reaction.

“I’m happy to hear that. Have you guys been seeing each other long?” Brent adjusted his seat belt.

“No.” He chuckled. “But it feels like we have. I mean that in a good way.”

“Sure. I understand. I’d love to meet him.”

It might have been because he was looking for it that he detected a slight hint of jealousy in his assistant’s response. Harper suspected a crush had developed. Little signs here and there were hard to ignore. Although Brent was a fair catch, Harper wasn’t inclined to dip his pen in the firm’s ink.

He punched in Phyllis’s number. To his relief, the phone went right into voice mail. Either she was on another call or she had it turned off. “Phyllis, this is Harper Callahan. If I’m going to be of any service to you, I need you to return my calls. I’m on my way over to Jasper’s sentencing. I’ll look for you when I get there. I’ll keep my line clear if you need to get in touch with me.”

At the top of the courthouse steps, he was surprised to see so much press already gathered.
With Brent right on his heels, he ignored their questions and charged past onto the elevator leading up to Judge Morrison’s courtroom, 2C, where the trial had taken place. Inside the double door, he was relieved the judge had maintained his stance, limiting the number of media permitted inside. A quick glance around the room confirmed Phyllis, at least for now, was a no-show. He looked at his phone to make sure he hadn’t missed a call or a text before silencing it. He and Brent took their seats next to Arthur and Duncan, leaving an open chair in the middle for their client.

“Any word from Phyllis? I left a voice mail, but she hasn’t returned my call,” Harper looked to the partners for a response.

“Nothing on this end.” Duncan glanced over at Arthur, who shook his head.

Jasper Flynn, dressed in a charcoal suit and a black tie, was led into the courtroom. Brent stood and escorted him over to his chair.

“Even though the decision is made,” Duncan whispered in Jasper’s ear, “do your best to show your human side. Just make sure not to overreact. Show some confidence, and above all, be respectful.”

“Relax as best you can,” Harper said, squeezing Jasper’s arm. “Today’s sentencing is not much more than a formality—”

“The appeal is almost ready to be filed, and you may see this judge again,” Duncan interrupted.

Ah Dunc, God forbid our client come away from this massacre without knowing how courageously you fought for his freedom.

Jasper nodded with unmistakable fear in his eyes.

In a matter of minutes, the courtroom was packed from floor to ceiling with the people Jasper had screwed. The court reporter sat down in his “cubby” to the left of the judge’s throne while the administrative clerk sat behind her big computer screen to the right. Harper gave her and the court reporter a business card to ensure they had the proper spelling of his name. He enjoyed interacting with the court staff. He’d take every opportunity he could get to convince them he was really a good guy despite his role in Jasper’s defense.

Back in his seat, he watched the judicial law clerk quietly slip into a chair on the sidelines. The admin clerk picked up the phone to let the judge know the room was ready. The bailiff stood and, in his best monotone voice, demanded, “All rise.”

Harper felt at peace while people around him announced who they were for the court reporter so it went on the record.

Nothing I say today is going to change your mind, is it, Judge?