Free When Men Betray by Webb Hubbell Page A

of the room and stared, off into space. Threats and round-the-clock security … what had I gotten us into?
    Beth and Maggie were going over my notes and organizing messages on the laptop, so I took the opportunity to slip into my bedroom and call Tucker. It seemed like Clovis was on the up-and-up, but I wanted a local’s take on him. Tucker told me that Clovis Jones had been the starting linebacker for Tennessee Tech in Cookeville. He’d been a sure thing to be a top draft pick and star in the NFL when a freak car accident had cut his football career short. He now owned his own security company here in Little Rock and was a well-regarded private investigator. Feeling better about things, I went back into the sitting area to get some work done.
    I hardly noticed when room service brought in sandwiches. Maggie’s stern voice jolted me back to reality.
    â€œYou need to eat something before you leave to see Woody.”
    â€œShit. You’re right.” I took a bite of the sandwich Maggie had put in front of me, and it suddenly hit me that I had packed for a leisurely weekend with my daughter. I only had golf shirts and khaki pants for the weekend. I shot up out of my chair and said, “I’m headed to the jail within the hour in golf clothes!” I was about to swear again, but Maggie, borrowing a habit of mine, put her hand firmly on my arm.
    Looking a bit uncomfortable, she said, “It’s okay, Jack. It occurred to me that you might need different clothes while you were here, so I dropped by your house and picked some up for both of you. Beth, I know most of your clothes are at Davidson, so I wasn’t quite sure what to pack for you. I assumed you’d both want to attend the funeral. The bags should be here soon.”
    Beth said, “Whatever you brought will be fine. Actually, did you happen to grab my old Seven jeans?”
    â€œSeven jeans?” I was confused. “What do you need with seven pairs of—”
    Rolling her eyes, Beth said, “Dad. It’s a label.”
    Like magic, the bellman knocked on the door, bringing our luggage. He was followed by Clovis and another, much smaller man.
    Clovis was trying not to smile as Beth rummaged through her bags,looking disgruntled. She pulled out khaki pants and a black button-down shirt, an ensemble I had not seen since the summer she worked at our neighborhood coffee shop. I laughed before I could stop myself, recalling how much she despised wearing that uniform. She was not amused.
    Clovis had a real knack for knowing when to intervene. “So, Beth, I want you to meet Paul. He won’t be your babysitter, but he will be sitting in a chair outside your suite.”
    Paul nodded wordlessly. He wasn’t much bigger than Woody and wore the same nerdy glasses. I guess I looked a little doubtful.
    â€œPaul may not look intimidating, but he was an NCAA-champion wrestler in his weight class, and is an expert in martial arts. You don’t want to mess with him Jack, I’ll be out in the hallway with Paul going over some things. Come on out when you’re ready to go.”
    When the door closed, Beth chuckled. “Martial arts?” she whispered. “Our bodyguard is a retired Power Ranger?”
    â€œHoney, you need to …” I tried to scold, but came up short. Frustrated, I grabbed my bag and jerked it into my room.
    I felt better after changing into a sports coat, button-down shirt, and conservative tie. I tried to anticipate the scene at the jail. The press would be salivating for a sound bite, and Woody’s lawyer needed to be ready to give them a good one.
Oh my God! Did I just call myself Woody’s lawyer?
I had to get that concept out of my head or I would have no chance of convincing others.
    C LOVIS DROVE A late-model Tahoe. Just looking at it could make a person feel secure. When we got in, I handed him the note I’d saved from the previous night.
    He frowned, and I said,