Page 136 of Goodbye Girl

“Suit yourself,” said the guard.

Jack took a seat in the waiting area with a handful of other visitors. The television in the corner was tuned to a cable news station, but no one was watching. Jack kept himself busy by working from his laptop. An hour passed. Then another thirty minutes. Finally, around two o’clock, the guard came for him.

“You can see your client now, Swyteck.”

Jack followed the guard down the corridor to an attorney-client conference room. Another guard unlocked the door. Jack entered, and the door closed behind him. Paxton was seated at a table, shackled and dressed in the FSP jumpsuit. His face was flushed and glistened with sweat, and his biceps were bulging even more than usual. Jack surmised that he’d come straight from the prison weight room. Two corrections officers were with him, one standing at the prisoner’s side and the other at the exit.

“You two can leave,” Jack told the officers.

“Buzz when you’re done,” the one at the door said. The two officers exited and closed the door, leaving Jack alone with his new client.

“So, you’re gonna help me get parole?” asked Paxton.

Jack turned the wooden chair around and sat with his forearms resting on the chairback, facing him. “Maybe.”

“You’re my lawyer now. You have to help me.”

“You’re my client now. You have to stop feeding me bullshit.”

Paxton smiled. “Is that what this is about? You want the real story?”

Jack didn’t return the smile. “There’s a serial killer out there who thinks people who listen to music without paying for it deserve to die.”

“I can’t do anything about that.”

“I think you can. And, as your lawyer, I think that’s your best shot at getting parole.”

“I already cut a deal with the prosecutor for my testimony.”

“No, you didn’t. The prosecutor was telling the truth about that. He never promised you anything in exchange for your testimony. And now that the case has been dismissed with no convictions, I can assure you that he will give you exactly what he promised. Nothing.”

The reality was setting in, and Paxton’s anger was evident. “That motherfucker. You’re my lawyer. Fix it.”

“I’ll try, but I need your help. And I need the truth. Tell me everything you know about the killer’s signature, ‘goodbye girl.’ I’ll put together a proposal to the FBI.”

“For what?” he said, scoffing. “So I can get screwed again?”

“No. This time you have a lawyer negotiating for you. You’ll have a promise in writing that the United States government will appear at your parole hearing and will fully acknowledge their gratitude for your cooperation and invaluable assistance to Operation Gibbet.”

Paxton took a minute, mulling it over. Finally, he looked at Jack and said, “I screwed it up.”

“Screwed what up?”

“The message. ‘Goodbye girl.’”

“How did you screw up?”

“It’s funny, but I thought you were going to catch onto it at trial. Remember when the prosecutor was asking me questions about that Johnny Depp movie?”

“Yes. The opening scene, where he finds the pirates who were hanged, and the sign by their bodies says, ‘Pirates, Be Ye Warned.’”

“Right. And Owens started asking me questions about pirates in the movies versus pirates in real life.”

“What does that have to do with you screwing up the message ‘goodbye girl’?”

Paxton folded his arms across his chest, flashing his overdeveloped biceps. “The message wasn’t supposed to be ‘goodbyegirl.’”

“What was it supposed to be?”

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