“Of course they will,” Sarah contradicts me.

“This is like the stock market dropping three hundred points in one day up here. All anybody talks about is the Razorbacks.”

An exaggeration, but I know what she means. Bill Clinton is the number one fan.

“Have you heard anything about the incident?” I can’t help but ask, though I know she is anxious to leave.

“Dad, please don’t try to get me involved,” she says impatiently.

“I know how you’ve used Rainey.”

Sarah is always accusing me of using people in my life to get information in my big cases. My off-and-on girlfriend Rainey, a social worker at the state hospital, seemed like a member of my staff she was so helpful.

Sarah would become incensed when I asked Rainey to hide a client or witness for a night or two at her house as I had to do a couple of times. Rainey never complained.

Other things about me upset her. But not my work. Invariably, she would get sucked in once a case got going.

“Have you heard anything about what Robin is like?” I ask.

“Dad!” Sarah pleads.

I back off.

“Be careful tonight,” I advise, unable not to have the last word. I let her go after telling her I will call her for dinner tomorrow evening. I assume I will be spending the night. It is too long a trip

to make often. My fees will be eaten up in transportation and lodging costs.

Yet, if I end up negotiating Dade’s pro contract, it will be the best time I ever spent.

“I love you, Sarah,” I say, finally.

“I love you, too,” she says, her voice full of exasperation, before she hangs up.

After taking a Lean Cuisine out of the freezer and pop ping it in the microwave, I open a Miller Lite and sit at the kitchen table and wait for Barton’s call. I try to read (he part of the paper I missed this morning but give up because I’m thinking about the case and Sarah’s comments about the Razorbacks. Why are they so damn important? Not just to me, but to hundreds of thousands in the state. Including the President of the United States.