Clement had known that the game was up already before he saw a fuming Gianna barge into the police station with her friends—starting from when Ewan had walked into the station with his assistant, followed by old Mr. Thorne, and then the lawyer whom he had thought dead, or vanished from the face of the earth.
But of course, they had found him. Of course. Another loose end that would push another nail into his coffin, a coffin that was beginning to take shape and swim in his mind's sight like a dark inevitability.
Yet, he had campaigned for his release while they waited, had tried to get the lawyer the state had made available to rally on his side and demand—maybe some kind of right, something procedural, something technical—that would give him and his family some breathing space.
But the lawyer, his own lawyer, had seemed somewhat lax, perhaps because of his opponents, or because he wasn't the favorite of the city at that point.
