Free The Law of Second Chances by James Sheehan

kid. He knew bullshit and bluster had to be ignored. He also knew that Frankie O’Connor, who played middle linebacker, expected him to do the job when he was in there, no matter what the score or who he was up against. Even though he was scared, he was not going to be intimidated in front of Frankie. He might not be stronger than the guy on the other side of the scrimmage line, but he was usually faster and he was definitely tough enough. Late in the season, after he had made some tackles for losses and recovered a couple of fumbles, the coach started to play him more—probably at the suggestion of Frankie
.
    I’ll be starting next year,
he told himself
. I’ve just got to show them I’m an athlete and I’m tough.

10
    Jack called Dr. Erica Gardner early the next morning after Pat left for work. In his previous life as an insurance company defense attorney, Jack had represented many physicians in medical malpractice cases and had used the services of some of the most prominent physicians in the United States to testify as expert witnesses on behalf of his clients. Erica Gardner was one of those experts. She was from St. Louis and had graduated magna cum laude from Harvard Medical School, one of the relatively few African American women to do so. She was board-certified as a specialist in internal medicine and had a very successful and busy practice in Miami. Jack hoped he could get Pat in for an appointment within the next month.
    He gave his name to the receptionist and was on hold waiting for the scheduling secretary when he heard Erica’s voice on the other end of the line. “Is that really you, Jack Tobin? I heard a rumor that you had moved to Tibet and become a monk.”
    “Not quite, Erica, but close. I’m living in a small town called Bass Creek.”
    “I’ve heard of Bass Creek. It’s a lovely town over by Lake Okeechobee.”
    “That’s the one.”
    The small talk was now out of the way. “What can I do for you, Jack?” Erica asked.
    “It’s my wife, Erica.” Jack explained that Pat had hadstomach pains for some nine months and her local physician kept telling her it was related to her gallbladder operation and would get better.
    “Did he do a CT scan, do you know?”
    “No, he hasn’t. That’s one of the reasons I’m calling you.”
    “How about a pelvic ultrasound?”
    “Nope. No tests of that nature.”
    “Let’s get her in here right away.”
    That afternoon Jack called on Ted Griffin in Miami. His office was in a run-down two-story masonry building in a seedy part of town. The inside didn’t look much better.
    Ted Griffin was as tall as Jack and much heavier, with big hands and big feet. His attire was as sloppy as his office. He reached out affably to shake hands and then put his arm around Jack’s shoulders.
    “You probably don’t remember me, Jack,” he said in a deep Southern drawl. “I had a few personal injury cases about twenty years ago when you were on the other side. You pasted my behind so bad that I convinced myself to stay with criminal law.”
    Jack honestly couldn’t remember ever meeting the guy. He was certain they’d never tried a case against each other. He never forgot lawyers he litigated against. “I’m sure that’s an exaggeration, Ted. I’ll bet we settled.”
    “We sure did, Jack—for a pittance.”
    Jack detected a little resentment in the tone, yet when he looked at Ted, the man was smiling from ear to ear. He was certainly not like the typical criminal lawyers Jack had known over the years.
    “What can I do for you, Jack?” Ted asked as he cleared papers off one of two client chairs in front of his desk and motioned for Jack to sit. Ted sat in the other chair next to Jack. He would have been invisible behind the desk, which was stacked almost two feet high with files.
    “Well, Ted, I want to ask you some questions about an old client of yours, a man named James Vernon.”
    “I remember James, all right,” Ted said quickly. “He was one of