“He’s not there?”
“No. And when I got there, this kid from my French class was talking to the teaching assistant and, well, I think you should talk to Troy yourself. I tried to get him to come here with me. But he’s too freaked out.”
Sasha frowned and started packing up her bag. She wanted to ask why Jordana hadn’t just called her, but experience had taught her that sometimes people didn’t act rationally when they were under stress. Especially when those people were teenagers or young adults whose brains were still developing.
Besides, going to the campus would give her a chance to look for Patrick’s doppelgänger again. She wished that hadn’t been her first thought, but it had. She drained her coffee and snapped off her office light.
“Okay, let’s go.”
Troy Jackson perched on the corner of the sofa in Charlie Robinson’s cramped office. His right knee bounced up and down as he jiggled his leg. Rush Winters, the professor’s TA, a bird-like, wiry man with a mop of unruly hair and square hipster eyeglasses, stood behind the professor’s desk, wringing his hands.
Jordana made the introductions and collapsed onto the sofa next to Troy. If Sasha had to guess, the only sleep the girl had gotten had been her catnap in the car on the way home from the police station.
She dragged a guest chair from in front of the desk across the room, positioning it directly in front of Troy. She seated herself, dug a legal pad and pen out from her bag, balanced the pad on her thigh, uncapped the pen and wrote the date on the top sheet, then locked eyes with Troy.
“Troy, tell me exactly what happened. I’m going to ask you to go through it once without interruption. Then I’ll ask questions, okay?”
He nodded his understanding. Before he could start, Jordana interjected with a question. “Do Rush and I need to leave? If this is privileged?”
It was a smart question, and Sasha didn’t hide her proud smile.
“At this point, there’s no attorney-client relationship between Mr. Jackson and me, so this conversation wouldn’t be confidential whether you were here or not. Do you think you need an attorney, Troy?”
He took his time answering. But after a moment, he gave a slow shake of his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. They didn’t charge me with anything.”
“Great. So for now, Jordana and Rush can stay in the room, unless you’d rather speak in private?”
Troy glanced sidelong at Jordana, and his leg stilled as if her being there calmed him. “I’d like them to stay.”
“All right. Then let’s get started. You were at the protest last night?”
“Yeah. Um, yes, ma’am.”
“You don’t need to be formal with me. So, I guess start from the point when the black van arrived on the scene.” She smiled to encourage him to relax.
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and took a long drink of water. “Okay. I was there with my, uh, girlfriend. We were standing next to each other when this van sped around the corner and screeched to a stop. At first, I thought they were planning to plow into the crowd, you know? I pushed Alicia behind me. People scrambled in every direction. Then the doors fly open and a bunch of big guys jump out. There must’ve been six of them, maybe more. All dressed in black. Black boots, black pants, long-sleeve shirts under vests. Three of them had guns. Uh, assault rifles, I guess. They dragged me into the van, zip-tied my hands together in front of me. It happened fast.”
He paused and sipped some more water. Jordana gave his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. The TA peeked at his cell phone and made a small noise.
“Sorry to interrupt, but the professor’s partner just texted me. I left her a message this morning because Professor Robinson told Troy to have me let her know what’s going on. She wants me to call her. What should I tell her?”
Sasha’s priority was getting the whole story out of Troy while it was still fresh in his memory. “Text her back and tell her you’ll call her in twenty minutes, maybe less.” She returned her attention to Troy while Rush thumbed out the message. “So they put you in the van.”
He passed his hand over his eyes before answering. “Right. I was the second one in. There were nine of us all together. Just kind of thrown in the cargo hold, bouncing around. I still had my phone in my hands, so I texted Alicia before they took it. It was dark in there, so I couldn’t really recognize anybody. We drove for a while, I don’t know how long. I think we were on the highway for a while because we were going pretty fast. Then we slowed down and the road got real bumpy.”
She broke her own rule to ask for clarification. “Bumpy like it wasn’t paved?”
He scraped his teeth over his upper lip and considered the question. “No, not like that. It wasn’t like going over loose gravel or packed dirt that had ruts. More like … cracked and broken road. A lot of potholes.”
Great. Poorly maintained with potholes. That ought to narrow it down to … almost every secondary road in Western Pennsylvania.
She looked down at her scribbled notes. She had so many follow-up questions already, but she really did want to hear him tell it through once unprompted. She worried that her questions would shape the narrative. She’d just have to limit her questions as best she could.
“Go on, Troy. You’re doing great.”
“The van stopped. They blindfolded us and marched us into some building. We were stumbling and tripping. They put us in a cell and removed the blindfolds. That was the first time I got a good look at the other guys. And that’s when I recognized the professor.”
“Did you recognize anyone else?”
“Yeah, a couple, just from seeing them around campus.”
“Were they all students?”
He shook his head. “Most of us, yeah. Two dudes were older—besides Professor Robinson, I mean. One of the guys said his name was Barefoot. The other guy didn’t say a word all night.”
“Okay. What happened next?”
Troy raised both shoulders to his ears. “Nothing. Not for a long time. Nobody questioned us or anything. We didn’t get a phone call or any food or water. We just kinda … sat there for hours. In the morning, two guards came and read off everyone’s names except the professor’s, that Barefoot guy, and the quiet one. They blindfolded us again and led us out to a vehicle. I think it was the same van, but I’m not sure about that. They drove us back to the protest site and gave us back our phones and stuff, then took off the blindfolds and rolled out.”
“Did you catch a license plate … even partial?”
“It was covered with mud. I mean covered—like somebody painted it on.”
Intentional. Organized. Cruelly efficient.
“And these men never identified themselves as members of a law enforcement agency?”
“Nope.”
“Your professor, Mr. Barefoot, and the silent man are still being held?”
He blinked rapidly. “Far as I know.”
“Did you catch any of the other students’ names?”
“Yeah. But … nobody else wanted to get involved. Everyone kind of wants to pretend it never happened.”
An understandable, if regrettable, impulse. She’d leave it alone. For now.
She reached into her bag and withdrew a business card. “Thanks a lot for talking to me, Troy. If you think of anything else, call me.”
He palmed the card and hurried to his feet, eager to get out of there. “Yeah, okay. Are you gonna help him?”
“I’m going to try.” She turned to the teaching assistant. “We’ll call his partner together. I’m going to offer to represent her to figure out where he is and who’s holding him and then get him released.”
Troy was heading for the door.
“Troy, wait a minute.”
He turned back, his eyes wary. “Yeah?”
She took out her phone and pulled up the picture she’d snapped earlier. “Do you know this guy?”
He leaned toward the display and studied the face that had stopped her heart. After a long moment, h
e shook his head. “Sorry, no.”
She’d known it was a long shot that he would, but still, her chest grew heavier. “Thanks anyway. And thanks again for coming forward to help Professor Robinson.”
“Sure thing. Bye, Jordana.”
“See you later.” Jordana stretched her neck to peer at the phone in Sasha’s hand as Troy left the room.
Sasha handed her the phone. “Do you recognize him?”
“No. I mean, he looks familiar … but … no. Is he involved?”
“No. I just saw him on campus this morning and need to track him down. It’s for an unrelated matter.”
Jordana wrinkled her brow and passed the phone to Rush. “Do you know him?”
He studied the image and returned the phone to Jordana. “Sorry. I can’t say that I do.”
Jordana glanced down at it again before handing it back to Sasha. “You know what’s funny?”
“No, what?”
“For some reason, he reminds me of Finn.”
Sasha’s heart crashed into her stomach and a wave of grief rolled over her. She took a deep breath and managed a weak smile. “That’s strange.”
Jordana bounced on her toes. “So now what?”
“Now, Rush and I will talk to the professor’s significant other. Then I’ll get to work. I promise you the firm will do everything we can to help Professor Robinson. What you need to do now is go back to your apartment and get some sleep.”
“But—”
“No buts about it. You’ve had a grueling eighteen hours. Rest. Hydrate. Eat. That’s your job.”
Defiance flashed in Jordana’s eyes, but, after a moment, she acquiesced. “I am pretty beat.”
“Go on. Take care of yourself.”
Jordana shuffled out of the office.
Sasha turned to the teaching assistant. “Okay, let’s make that call.”
Before Rush could pull out his phone, someone pounded hard on the office door. He raised his eyebrows as he went to open it. He wasn’t more than halfway across the room when the door flew open.
“What the—?”
Three uniformed police officers rushed into the office. Sasha leapt to her feet.
“Out,” the lead officer ordered. She had short silver hair and a tired expression.
Sasha narrowed her eyes. “I know you. Officer Diamond, right?”
The woman must’ve just passed Jordana in the hallway, but she gave no sign of recognition that Sasha had picked the girl up from the police station just hours ago.
“Out,” she repeated.
“I beg your pardon?”
The other two officers had begun to prowl around the office, pawing through the professor’s papers and books, opening drawers, and sweeping files onto the floor. Rush threw Sasha a panicked look.
“I said out. O-u-t. We’re conducting a search of these premises, and you need to leave,” Officer Diamond informed her.
Sasha drew herself up to her full (almost) five feet. “Wait just a minute. This isn’t how you execute a lawful search. One, you’re outside your jurisdiction. Two, where’s the warrant?”
“This isn’t your office, is it?” Diamond asked in a tone that made clear she knew the answer.
“No, but—“
“And I know it’s not his,” the officer hissed, pointing at Rush, who visibly withered under her attention.
“I’m an attorney,” Sasha shot back. “I represent Professor Robinson.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” Sort of.
“I don’t suppose you have a copy of a signed representation agreement on you?” She waited a beat. “Didn’t think so.”
“Call his partner. She’ll tell you.”
Officer Diamond lost what little patience she’d exhibited. “I’m not calling his partner or his mommy or his daddy. Unless you can produce evidence that you represent the man himself or Professor Robinson shows up and says you’re his lawyer, you have no business here, and you need to leave.”
Rush was already scurrying out the door. Sasha glared at his back, then said, “This is an illegal search. It’s pointless. Anything you find here will be excluded from evidence, you know that, right?”
The officer leafing through the books on Charlie’s bookshelf turned and laughed. “That’s a good one, eh, Diamond? The exclusionary rule, right.”
“I am right. Evidence obtained in violation of the Fourth Amendment protections against unreasonable search and seizure isn’t admissible,” Sasha insisted.
“Thanks for the free legal advice, counselor. Ever hear of the inevitable discovery exception? Now, for the last time, I’m asking you to leave. If you don’t, these gentlemen will escort you out.”
Sasha gritted her teeth and stormed out of the office to find Rush.
11
Landon straightened up at the knock on the door.
“Bring him in,” he called.
Fox and Scott pushed Charlie Robinson inside. He stumbled and tripped, landing hard, his knees smashing down into the cement floor. The door clanged shut, and the guards departed, their laughter echoing off the earthen walls as they clomped down the hallway.
Landon watched impassively as Robinson struggled to his feet. It was a laborious process, given that he was essentially strait-jacketed. He ended up walking on his knees to the corner and sliding his back up the wall, panting. When he was finally standing and relatively steady, he glared at Landon.
“I’d offer you a seat, Mr. Robinson. But, as you can see, there’s only the one.” He waved an airy hand around the bare room.
“Who are you?” Robinson demanded when he’d caught his breath.
“That’s not important.”
“What is this place—a black site?”
Landon rolled his eyes. “You leftists can be so dramatic with your language. I assume your question is whether this is an official federal facility? And the answer is no, it is not.”
“What is it then?”
He deliberated over his response. “For your purposes, it’s enough to know that I oversee a beta program that interfaces with federal and local law enforcement across the nation. This is one of our facilities.”
The professor narrowed his eyes. “A beta program, huh? Are you perfecting how best to deny people their constitutional rights or what?”
“Now, now. Surely you’re not suggesting that you been tortured or beaten?”
“Uh, no. At least not yet.”
“Deprived of sleep, then?”
He huffed. “Not actively. Your thugs didn’t blare music or flash the lights. But, as I’m sure you know, there aren’t any cots or pillows or anything in that cage.”
“Ah, so our accommodations aren’t up to your standards. How unfortunate.” Landon was surprised at how much he enjoyed toying with this man.
“I have been denied food, water, and the opportunity to call counsel.”
“Counsel? You haven’t been arrested. As I’m sure you know, you’re not entitled to an attorney absent an arrest.”
Robinson flared his nostrils. “What do you want, man? Why am I here?”
“Now, there’s a question I’m happy to answer. You’re here because we’ve determined you have a propensity toward violent crime.”
The man’s mouth popped open to form a small ‘o’ of surprise. A moment later, he clamped his mouth shut and jutted his chin forward. He stared hard at Landon. “Nuh-uh, no way. I’ve never been charged with a violent crime.”
“Ah, that’s true. I didn’t say you had. I said that we’ve determined you have a propensity for violent crime.”
“Determined on what basis?”
“That’s proprietary.”
“This is ridiculous. I’m a college professor.”
“I know. I know quite a bit about you. You’re a professor of social justice—a radical. You are unmarried, but you live with a woman named Raquel Jones. Tell me, is she a girlfriend or just a roommate?”
“She’s my partner. Not everyone needs a
piece of paper from the state to make it official.”
“How predictable.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “Keep her name out of your mouth.”
Landon noted the reaction. Robinson’s woman was a delicate topic; this was useful information. He moved on. “Let’s talk about your credit card fraud.”
A snort of disbelief. “Are you serious? That was a decade ago. I was broke, and a housemate used my card without permission, ran it up over the limit. I couldn’t pay the bill, so I told the bank the charges weren’t authorized. Because they weren’t. But when they investigated and found out that the charges were made by a friend, they told me I had to file a criminal complaint against him or they would file one against me.”
Landon telegraphed his disbelief with a sneer. “And I’m to believe you’re such a man of honor that you took the fall rather than implicate a friend who was clearly willing to screw you over?”
“I’m telling you, it was an unauthorized use of my card. But, yeah, I wasn’t going to sell him out to save myself. So, they filed, and the district attorney offered me a plea deal. And I didn’t have the resources to fight the charges, so yeah, I pled out. That’s why you’re holding me in this dungeon? Over an eight-thousand-dollar credit card bill?”
“In a nutshell, yes. A very sophisticated program identified you as a person with latent violent criminality. I take that seriously.”
“Well, your program’s flawed. It’s crap.”
“Cesare is not crap.” Landon fisted his hands. As soon as he realized what he’d done, he relaxed his fists and shook out his hands.
“Cesare? Who’s Cesare?”
Pull yourself together, Landon. Do not allow yourself to be baited.
He ignored the question. “The nine of you whom the agents removed from the protest were the most dangerous based on our preliminary data. But additional information and finer determinations resulted in the release of the six students. Would you care to know why?”
“You’re going to tell me whether I want to know or not. You obviously love the sound of your own voice.”
“I believe part of the distinction is that the six men deemed a lesser threat are all younger and enrolled in college. That opens up more opportunity for them. The fact that the program didn’t seem to adjust for your status as a college educator surprised me at first. But I believe your radical political views likely counteract any ‘sweetener’ that would be applied for a white-collar job in higher education.”
Inevitable Discovery Page 6