Ashlyn had only a little traffic on the route in southern Massachusetts and turned onto Carlo Holland's farm just under seventy minutes later. The former elite soldier had done a great job. The main building of the at least two-hundred-year-old farm had already been lovingly restored in many places. The old beams of the building made a solid impression on Ashlyn. The shutters were painted in the same shade of green as the heavy wooden gates on the left side of the barn. An old tractor was parked a little way back in front of a tool shed, and judging by its condition, it could be the next restoration project.
Ashlyn switched off her Audi engine as Holland approached her.
"Hello, Counselor," he greeted Ashlyn warmly, with a noticeably firm handshake. 'It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you.'
"Thank you. Likewise, yes, it's nice to meet you too," Ashlyn replied with a smile. "And thank you again for taking care of my client."
"You know what, I really enjoy doing it. And to be honest, it's not so much taking care of him as it is a great deal for both of us. I feel that Tim is benefiting from the distance from the city and this whole case. And he's helping me enormously." Holland gestured to the yard and the barn. "Tim is a trained painter and varnisher. And he's really good at it."
Ashlyn looked at her counterpart in astonishment. She hadn't thought of that. In her mind, Garner was the shy, awkward man needing help. What she heard from Holland didn't fit with that.
"Hello, counselor. There you are," Ashlyn suddenly heard a strong voice behind her. She turned around and could hardly believe her eyes. In front of her stood Tim Garner, with short hair, a three-day beard, and a dark brown tan from the sun. Ashlyn raised her eyebrows. This was like the transformation from a Hollywood melodrama. The ugly duckling had become a radiant hero—at least on the outside, it seemed so.
Garner had obviously noticed Ashlyn's astonishment because now a shy smile spread across his face, and for a moment, he reminded Ashlyn of the man from her office again. "I know," Garner said, and the shy smile gave way to growing self-confidence again. "The country air is doing me good. And not only that." With pride in his voice, he added, "And Carlo. After we got to know each other a bit and I foolishly mentioned my training --" Garner paused briefly and looked at Holland with a broad grin, "…Carlo asked me if I could imagine helping him with the farm. And as you can see," he said, pointing around the farm, 'I only slowly dared to approach the window frames. After that, I tackled the barn and so on. That was really cool. It was the first time in my life that I felt like someone really took me seriously and trusted me.' Garner laughed. "And Carlo believes in quality. That's when it clicked for me, too."
Ashlyn, still irritated by Garner's transformation, was amazed.
"Well," Holland now interjected into the conversation. "It's not entirely as if I'm responsible for all this. To be honest, it's mutual. Tim has also shown me a thing or two about using paint and varnish properly and has revised my original renovation plan." Ashlyn thought she saw something like pride in Holland's eyes. "A bit like my old troop. Everyone has something different to contribute, and it can be excellent together."
Ashlyn looked impressed, glancing from one to the other. Then she slowly remembered why she had actually come. "Well, that sounds much better than I could have ever imagined. And guess what? I have some good news, too. At least I think you're going to like it." She looked first at Holland and then at Garner. "Is there somewhere we can talk in private?"
"Sure," Garner said. 'Come with me to the terrace at the back of the house. I'll make us some more coffee and be right with you.'
After Garner had disappeared, Ashlyn looked at Holland in disbelief.
"I know," Holland said. 'It's as if there was another person under the surface all along, just waiting for us to free him.' Thoughtfully, he added, "And somehow, I think he freed himself. I may have contacted him, but that's all I did. Now I hope he doesn't relapse."
Ashlyn nodded slowly and followed Holland past the house to the large terrace paved with old flat stones. The view from here was breathtakingly beautiful. Across a vast, tree-lined lawn, where colorful flowers grew wildly, you could see a small lake in the distance.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Garner said, who had just reappeared next to Ashlyn. "Why don't you take a seat. I'll get the coffee."
Ashlyn sat down at the large wooden table and took a deep breath. For a moment, she felt as if she were on vacation. The fresh air, the peace and quiet, and the natural surroundings were like an unexpected gift. Ashlyn's thoughts were interrupted only when Garner returned from the house with steaming cups of coffee. He put the cups down and sat down.
He and Ashlyn sat silently next to each other for a moment before Ashlyn spoke up. "I don't know if you've thought much about your case since the interview with Tracy Payne, but it seems we've been able to shed some light on it, at least regarding accountability. We've received some documents that show..." Ashlyn broke off mid-sentence because she noticed Garner's habitus change from one second to the next. His shoulders slumped forward, and he began to fumble uncertainly with his hands.
"You okay?" Ashlyn asked, realizing in a flash that she was dragging Garner back into a world he had just left. She wondered if this would go well.
And then it was Holland who defused the situation. "Hey, Timmy, just listen to what Ashlyn says first."
Garner looked up and nodded. "Sorry," he then said to Ashlyn. "You're right, I guess I should. It was nice not to think about the past for a change."
"I understand," Ashlyn said, trying to choose her words as carefully as possible. She didn't want to put Garner under pressure, and she also felt that he wasn't dealing with his past at the moment but repressing it with success. And even though she wasn't a psychologist, Ashlyn knew completely well that this couldn't be a solution in the long run.
"Well," she began, "I can well imagine that not thinking about the past feels much better for the moment. But I would like to ask you to consider whether it wouldn't be better in the end not just to repress it all but to really come to terms with it. You've been fighting for justice all these years, together with your friend Justin. To clarify what really happened. To hold those who did so much harm to you and all the other children accountable." Ashlyn paused and looked at Garner. He listened carefully and nodded at Ashlyn's statement. 'And now it actually looks like you, like we together, have the opportunity to do just that.' She paused and took a sip of water. "Marcus Cantu, the then head of a department in the youth welfare office, had been responsible for ensuring that you and Justin came to your foster father. And the DA's office has files that can prove it."
"Marcus Cantu?" Garner asked thoughtfully and closed his eyes. He was silent momentarily, and it seemed to Ashlyn as if he were traveling back in time.
"Yes, Marcus Cantu," Ashlyn replied. And then she told Garner and Holland everything that had come to light in the past few days. From the files she had received to the information from the darknet to the point where the DA's Office had decided to charge Cantu with Justin Booker's murder. When she got to the end, she looked at her client.
"And what exactly does that mean for me?" Garner asked uncertainly.
"It means that you, together with me, or I in your place in court, can finally ensure justice is done. For you and all the other children who have been wronged. And," Ashlyn looked him straight in the eye, "for all the children who can be spared this fate in the future."
Garner seemed uncertain. He looked over at Holland questioningly. Holland nodded encouragingly. "Can I still change my mind?" he asked. "I mean about the incidental action. Do I also have to go to court?"
"You can. And even if you are a joint plaintiff, you don't have to attend the trial. I can do it for you, and we will coordinate very closely. Only if you are subpoenaed as a witness, which is to be expected, will you have to be present. But we can discuss that in detail. Whether you want to do that or appear as a joint plaintiff is ultimately entirely your decision. You are not obligated to do so, although I believe it would be good. And that it would be good for the cause itself. And that it would also be essential for you personally."
xxx
When Ashlyn was returning a good hour later, she thought about the conversation with Garner and Holland. They had agreed that Garner should take his time until tomorrow morning. He wanted to discuss everything with Holland again and then return to Ashlyn. Ashlyn had no idea what her client would decide. She had the feeling that he was torn. She had completely underestimated how difficult it must be for Garner to face the ghosts of the past in this way. He had fought for all these years. But now it was getting serious. First, the articles by Tracy Payne in the Boston Observer are now a court case in the public eye. Both are under constant fire from social media. He was able to escape most of it on Holland's farm. In the courtroom, that would no longer be possible.
Besides, there was another point that Ashlyn found hard to grasp. The barely visible shadow of a torn soul. A personality that had never been able to take deep roots. Since the last conversation with Maggie, she couldn't get rid of the thought that there was something else that Garner didn't want to come out with. She had the feeling that something was bothering him. Something that had taken place on the battlefield of his mind and had pushed him into a lightless tunnel at some moments. And whatever it was, Ashlyn hoped, would not stop him from doing the right thing. But that was no longer in her hands.
xxx
"We're not open yet," snapped the resolute woman, who looked to be at least seventy, as Dominic entered the dark barroom. The old and threadbare carpets on the floor had seen better days, and the yellowish color on the walls could have been white decades ago. There was a stale smell of beer in the air. In short, the establishment corresponded to all the stereotypes an old Boston bar must fulfill. The warmth of the landlady included, Dominic thought and had to smile.
"Well, that's impossible," he replied brashly but with his broad smile. And as almost always, his warmth did not fail to have an effect this time either.
The landlady looked at him more sympathetically but was still skeptical. "The restrooms are also only for our guests," she commented on the presumed reason for his visit.
"So it should be," Dominic continued, taking the wind out of her sails. "In fact, I'm here for a completely different reason. I have a question, and I hope you can help me." He looked at the landlady and tried to gauge her willingness to converse with him. To be safe, he added, "You'd be doing me a huge favor personally."
With the last sentence, he convinced the landlady as she beckoned him to the counter. "Well, come here, and let's hear what's wrong," she said, and her voice sounded more conciliatory now.
Great, he thought. Hard shell, soft center.
"Thank you," he replied and sat on one of the bar stools at the counter. He took a picture out of his pocket and placed it in front of him on the polished wooden top. "I'll be sincere. I'm a private investigator, and one of my clients seems to be in trouble. So I would be happy to ask you a few questions. I'd be glad if you know anything about it and want to share it with me. And if not, that's fine too. Would that be okay with you?"
The landlady looked first at him and then at the picture. 'A lot of others have already asked me about him,' she told him skeptically.
"I know," Dominic replied. 'This is Justin Booker. Unfortunately, we now know for sure that he died. And we also know that he had a beer here on what was probably his last night. But I really wanted to know whether you know any of these men,' he continued, pulling out two more pictures and placing them on the counter next to the first one.
"Wait a minute," the landlady called out. 'I have to get my glasses.' She disappeared briefly and reappeared shortly thereafter with thick, green horn-rimmed glasses that contrasted perfectly with her orange-red hair. She took the pictures and examined them closely. Then she put them down again and shook her head. "Nah, I've never seen them here."
"Really?" Dominic asked disappointedly, as he had hoped to get a hit. "Are you sure?"
The woman looked at him disapprovingly. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have said that, would I?" She replied with a slightly reproachful undertone.
"All right, all right. Sorry. It's just that it's imperative to me." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pen, and wrote his name and cell phone number on the back of a picture. "I'll just leave you the pictures and my number. Could you do me a favor and ask your colleagues if anything rings a bell?"
"Sure, I can do that," she replied, grabbing the pictures and placing them on the shelf behind her. "Now, young man, do me a favor and let me get on with preparing everything here. Otherwise, I won't get anything done."