“Before I took your case,” Liddon said.
“You did my case pro bono.”
“You didn’t have any money.”
“Thought you defended me because you believed.”
“In your innocence? No. Never.”
“So you did it pro bono because …?”
“What do you think, Rudy?”
“In case one day you needed someone like me.”
“There you go.”
“Were you married when you took my case?”
“Only a few months.”
“Did you know then that maybe …”
“No, no. I loved her then.”
“That’s sad.”
Liddon shrugged. “Life.”
“You do a lot of pro bono work.”
“I try to give what time I can.”
“So you have others like me?”
“A couple. If I need them.”
“Well, I want you to know I’m grateful.”
“Thank you, Rudy.”
“Not just for back then, but for this opportunity, too.”
“I know you’re meticulous. Now I better be going.” He took two steps across the green, toward the woods, then turned to look once more at the groundskeeper. “I’m a little curious, too.”
“About what?”
“Since Judy Hardy, have you …”
“Yes.”
“Often?” Liddon asked.
“I make myself wait between.”
“Is it difficult—waiting?”
“Yes. But then it’s sweeter when I do one.”
“How long is the wait?”
“Six months. Eight.”
“Have you ever come under suspicion again?”
“No. And I never will.”
“You’re a smart and careful man. That’s why I took your case.”
“Besides, people like me,” said Neems.
“Yes. They do. That’s always a plus.”
Liddon continued across the green, across the rough, to the footpath through the woods. He was two hundred yards from the most terrifying encounter of his life.
Forty
