Free A Walk Across the Sun by Corban Addison Page A

five years waiting for the money to come. By then, who knew how many of them would settle for a song?
    Despite the meeting’s importance, Thomas had struggled to keep his mind on the appeal. His thoughts had drifted from the kidnapping he’d witnessed in Fayetteville, to Tera Atwood sitting across the table from him, to the school pictures the plaintiffs’ attorneys had showed the jury. What he had told his father last night was true: it was hard to like a company that had killed a schoolhouse full of children. On the other hand, liking Wharton was irrelevant to the representation. A lawyer’s job was to fight for his client and let others decide what was right and what was wrong.
    He tuned in to the conversation when Maximillian Junger stood from his seat at the head of the table. Junger was the managing partner of the litigation division and the leader of the Wharton Group. He was also a personal friend of Thomas’s father.
    â€œThe appeals team will be led by Mark Blake,” Junger said in the oracular voice that had charmed juries for more than thirty years. “He’ll be assisted on the briefs by Hans Kristof and a core group of associates.”
    Junger used a remote control to access a flat-screen television mounted in the wall behind two retracting wood panels. He powered on the unit, and the names of those on the appeals team were displayed. Thomas’s heart sank; he was not on the list. He glanced at Tera. Unlike him, she had been selected for the assignment. She smiled at him, but her eyes were sad. Their days of working closely together on the case were over.
    Thomas looked back at Junger. “To the rest of you,” he was saying, “allow me to extend the firm’s thanks for your efforts over the past forty months. The verdict was a disappointment, but as we’ve discussed, there are many grounds for appeal. If you’re not on the appeals team, talk to your supervising partner. We have a number of pending cases that need attention.”
    Junger glanced at the clock on the wall. The thirty minutes blocked out for the meeting were over. “Thanks for your attendance,” he said. “This meeting is adjourned.”
    Thomas stood up quickly and headed for the door, hoping to escape before he had to face any of the other associates, especially Tera. Max Junger met him in the hallway and walked with him to the elevator. When they were inside, Junger pressed the button for the twelfth floor. Thomas reached for the seventh-floor button, but Junger stopped him.
    â€œIt’s been a while since we visited,” he said. “Why don’t we chat in my office?”
    Thomas nodded, but his mind raced with the implications of the invitation. A private meeting with Junger was not a propitious sign. Good news was always channeled through the chain of command.
    â€œHow is your father?” Junger asked, making conversation.
    â€œHe’s well,” Thomas said, trying to calm his nerves. “He talks about you all the time.”
    â€œAnd uses me as a point of humor, I’m sure,” Junger said with a selfdeprecating smile. “He’s been doing that since law school.”
    Before he was elevated to the bench, the Judge had been one of Clayton’s star litigators and a colleague of Junger’s. Years before that, they were classmates at Virginia Law.
    The elevator door opened, and Junger led the way through the ornate twelfth-floor lobby and into his office. The room had enough space to accommodate at least fifteen of the cubicles in which associates like Thomas had to work. The walls were cherry-paneled and studded with bookcases and original artwork. It was an intimidating setting in the best of times. In the worst of times, it was suffocating.
    â€œMake yourself comfortable,” Junger said, gesturing to a sitting area with an overstuffed couch and wingback chairs. Thomas sat in one of the chairs, and Junger took a seat on the