The Simple Truth by David Baldacci Read Free Book Online

his leather amulet, as a guard escorted him to the visitors’room.
    Alone for a few minutes, Rider eyed the dull brown of the walls that seemed designed to depress further those who probably already lived in the throes of near-suicidal intent. He wondered how many men called this place home, entombed by their fellow man and with excellent reason. And yet they all had mothers, even the vilest among them; some, Rider assumed, even had fathers, beyond the stain of semen on egg. And still, they ended up here. Born evil? Maybe so. Probably have a genetic test soon that’ll tell you if your preschooler is the second coming of Ted Bundy, Rider thought. But when they drop the bad news on you, then what the hell do you do?
    Rider stopped his musings as Rufus Harms, towering over the two guards trailing him, entered the visitors’room. The quick image was that of the lord to his serfs, reality the reverse of that. Harms was the largest man Rider had ever personally encountered, a giant possessed of truly abnormal strength. Even now he seemed to fill up the room with his bulk. His chest was two slabs of rebarred concrete hung side by side, arms thicker than some trees. Harms wore shackles on both his hands and feet that forced him to do the
“prison shuffle.”
He was accomplished at it, though; the shortened strides were graceful.
    He must be close to fifty, Rider thought, but actually looked a good ten years older; he noted the facial scars, the awkward twist of bone beneath Harms’s right eye. The young man Rider had represented was the owner of fine, even handsome features. Rider wondered how often Rufus had been beaten in here, what other telling evidence of abuse he carried under his clothing.
    Harms sat down across from Rider at a wooden table heavily scored by thousands of nervous, desperate fingernails. He didn’t look at Rider just yet, but instead eyed the guard, who remained in the room.
    Rider caught Harms’s silent meaning and said to the guard,
“Private, I’m his lawyer, so you’re going to have to give us some space here.”
    The reply was automatic.
“This is a maximum-security prison facility and every prisoner here is classified as violent and dangerous. I’m here for your safety.”
    The men here
were
dangerous, both prisoners
and
guards, and that was just the way things were, Rider knew.
    “I understand that,”
replied the lawyer.
“I’m not asking you to abandon me, but I’d be obliged if you could stand farther away. Attorney-client privilege — you understand, don’t you?”
    The guard didn’t answer, but he did move to the far end of the room, ostensibly out of earshot. Finally, Rufus Harms looked over at Rider.
“You bring the radio?”
    “A strange request, but one that I honored.”
    “Take it out and turn it on, would you?”
    Rider did so. The room was immediately filled with the mournful tunes of country-western music, the lyrics contrived, shallow in the face of the genuine misery sensed at this place, Rider thought uncomfortably.
    When the lawyer looked at him questioningly, Harms glanced around the room.
“Lotta ears around this place, some you can’t see, right?”
    “Bugging the conversations of an attorney and his client is against the law.”
    Harms moved his hands slightly, chains rattling.
“Lot of things against the law, but people still do ’em. Both in and out of this place. Right?”
    Rider found himself nodding. Harms was no longer a young, scared kid. He was a man. A man in control despite being unable to control one single element of his existence. Rider also observed that each of Harms’s physical movements was measured, calculated; like he was engaging in chess, reaching out slowly to touch a piece, and then drawing back with equal caution. Here, swift motion could be deadly.
    The inmate leaned forward and started speaking in a tone so low that Rider had to strain to hear him above the music.
“I thank you for coming. I’m surprised you did.”
    “Surprised