Jamie smiled. “Thank you. It was a team effort.”
“Yes, it was,” he said, sloughing off the gratitude. “Listen, could I see you in my office for a minute? I need your help on the Genpack case.”
Jamie gestured to the documentation on her desk. “Could it wait? I took a case last night, and I have to be in court this afternoon. I have a lot of work to do.”
“A case?” Max stepped farther into the office, holding his coffee cup as if it were an elder’s staff. He wasn’t wearing his coat, Jamie noted, and his tie was loose—unusual for a man who valued his professional image more than his law degree. It was obvious he’d been absorbed in his work all night, since he only allowed himself to look the least bit casual when he was pressured for time. “What case?”
“My client was arrested yesterday,” Jamie said. “He’s becoming the scapegoat for the bombing downtown. They pulled him over, searched his car, and found four boxes of RDX explosives.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I have security video that shows someone planting it in his car when he was parked in a hospital parking lot the other night. He didn’t do it.”
“How did this fall into your lap?”
Jamie bristled, but reminded herself that he was her superior. “I know him. I’ve been friends with him for years.”
Max shook his head. “Could be great exposure for the firm. Most of it will be negative, but if you do a good job, it’ll be great for you. You’ll have to stay off social media, though, and avoid the press, because they’ll crucify you.”
She sat back and crossed her arms. “I can handle it. I’ve already taken the case. I’m going to win it. Dustin Webb is not going to prison.”
Max frowned, thinking it through. “The prosecutors will have a tight case against him. Be aware of that. They must have had probable cause to search his car.”
“I’m way ahead of you. I’ve got this.”
He chuckled as he left the office.
Any minute now the press would get hold of the information about his arrest. It would be a media circus. She knew Dustin wasn’t prepared for that.
She had been in front of the cameras plenty of times with her clients, but she’d never taken a case where multiple deaths were being blamed on one. Would he be safe? Would she?
She shook that thought from her head and told herself to tackle one thing at a time. The press hadn’t reported it yet, so she had some time. But once they went to court, all bets were off. The media would descend on them like an avalanche. What if he was let out after that and the outraged mob came after him?
The thought was disturbing, but not yet as bad as the alternative. The thought she couldn’t live with was disappointing Dustin.
“Don’t let me down, okay?” Dustin’s voice played over in her mind like a lyric from the past.
He had said those words to her before her first date when she’d just turned fifteen, and she remembered thinking then, as she thought now, that she’d jump across the Grand Canyon to keep from letting him down.
“And let that guy know I’ll be watching when he brings you home. He’d better be real careful.”
Jamie had laughed. “You’re not my dad. Besides, there’s no way you’ll be home on a Saturday night. The town would have to close down without you, and the broken hearts . . . Well, I can’t even stand to think about it.”
Dustin’s mirthless expression held the foundation of a promise. “I’m not going anywhere tonight,” he’d said.
Jamie remembered the exhilarating feeling she’d had just knowing that Dustin was at home . . . waiting . . . on the off chance that she would need him. It had distracted her from the date.
Her assistant came into her office to hand her some mail. “Lila, I think we might have some trouble after word gets out that I’m representing Dustin Webb. It may be best if I don’t stay in my house.”
“You could do a short-term rental at an Airbnb.”
“I’ll look for one now, but would you be okay with renting it in your name, with your credit card? I can transfer the money to you through PayPal.”
Lila shrugged. “Sure. Sometimes the landlords meet you to show you around the property, so I can meet them and get the key if you’re trying to stay anonymous.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I think the media are going to be looking for Dustin and for me. I don’t want anybody to know where we’ll be.”
“You’ve never shied away from that before.”
“I’ve never represented someone being connected to a terrorist attack.”
She spent the next few minutes looking for a place to live for a month or more—with a dog—until the media frenzy stopped. It had to be a big enough place for Dustin to stay there as well, if that turned out to be necessary. Lila completed the transaction for her and made an appointment to get the key.
Jamie checked her watch and decided to leave early and visit Dustin before the hearing. She gathered up her papers and stacked them in her briefcase. It was up to her, she thought. She had to get him out of jail today.
15
Dustin wished he could change out of the brown jumpsuit and into the clothes he’d been wearing yesterday, but that wasn’t happening. They’d called him this morning for court, even though his hearing wasn’t until two, then they’d bused him to the courthouse with all the other prisoners seeing the judge today. Most of them had morning hearings, so they waited in a secure room in the courthouse until their names were called. No food, no water, not even a bathroom trip without an Act of Congress.
It was now afternoon and there was only a small group left, so he prayed he’d be called in soon. He paced across the tiny interview room, his orange flip-flops slapping his feet as he did. How did people stand these for months, years, decades?
God, please help me out of this.
Would the press be waiting for him when he went into court today? He thought of friends, acquaintances, and clients—what would their reactions be when they saw the breaking news and read that he’d been arrested in connection to the bombing? Already, he could imagine six months of work vaporizing. Who would hire him and Travis to install a security system when he was being accused of this?
But the knife twisted even deeper when he thought of Aunt Pat’s reaction, the I-told-you-sos he knew were probably racing through her mind right about now. “No son of mine would have wound up in a mess like this,” she’d told him more than once when he’d committed school infractions. She’d always known he would bring disgrace and embarrassment to her family, ever since the day he’d been thrust upon her like an inheritance no one wanted. For years, he’d felt certain that Aunt Pat had hidden her silver just in case her sister’s orphaned son decided to pawn it.
He could envision her now, running around her house pulling down the shades, hiding her car in the garage, screening her calls, lest someone humiliate her with the knowledge of Dustin’s arrest. He almost felt sorry for her.
He heard a sound in the hallway and looked through the small window in the door. It was Jamie. She had stopped at a table to confer with one of the guards. She glanced toward the room he was in.
He stepped away from the door as Jamie came toward it. She looked tired, as if she had slept even less than he had. There was no trace of a smile in her eyes. She was anxious. That wasn’t a good sign.
The door opened, and Jamie stepped inside. “Hey,” she said. “How was your night?”
“Fantastic,” he said. “Slept like a baby.”
Jamie wasn’t fooled. Had she ever been? “You look like you used to look when you were hung over after one of your nights out with the Crawley brothers.”
“Those were nasty rumors.”
“Right. You don’t look like you got much sleep in that cell.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” he said. “Were you able to get my dog to the kennel?”
The way she grinned told him she’d met Dude. “Yeah, about that. I kind of . . . didn’t have the heart to take h
im.”
“So he’s still at home?”
“Not exactly. I took him home with me last night.”
For the first time since he’d been here, he laughed. “Are you serious?”
“He needed social interaction. I didn’t want him to be alone all night.”
“Did he sleep in your bed?”
She looked down at the floor and sighed. “Yes, he did. And this morning he seemed so comfortable in my yard, and it’s fenced and all, and it was a nice morning, so I thought I’d just keep him there.”
“He has that effect on people.”
“Yes, he does. He’s very enthusiastic. It’s contagious.”
“Enthusiastic is a good word for it. Well, hopefully you won’t have to keep him for long. As much as I’d like to stay here, are you going to be able to get me out?”
“I talked to the DA and pulled out everything I had. I honestly don’t know. I’m going to ask for bond, and he might stand in the way. We won’t know until we get there.”
“So . . . if the judge says no bond, what does that mean? Do I have to stay here until a trial?”
“They can hold you until an indictment. Then we can try for bond again.”
“Is there already a grand jury?”
“Those are secret, so I wouldn’t be told. But I don’t think so. Not quite yet.”
“So it could take months?”
She let out a hard sigh. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We can talk about all this after court. For now, let’s just think positive. And pray.”
He had been praying, all night. If he knew her, she had, too.
“I’ll meet you in there,” she said. “They’ll probably bring you in in a few minutes. Meanwhile, I’m going to try to catch the prosecutor and see if I can gauge his thoughts.”
As she went back to the door, he smiled weakly and said, “I’m rooting for you.”
“And I’m rooting for you.”
Something about knowing that gave him a measure of peace as he waited.
16
The police station was different than Taylor expected. She stepped inside the glass doors, Harper following close behind her, and looked around for an information desk.
A uniformed policeman stood behind a counter, poring over pictures on his computer screen. Taylor stepped toward him and waited for him to look up.
He finally turned to her. “Yeah, can I help you?”
“Yes. I was wondering if Detective Borden is here. I need to talk to him about the bombing.”
“Are you a witness?”
“Yes. I talked to him yesterday, and he told me to call if I thought of anything else. He also said he wanted to interview me today. I found something that might interest him.”
That seemed to get his attention, and he stood up straighter and looked past her around the room where mostly empty desks were lined up.
“Hey, Klein!” he called across the room.
A uniformed woman stood up. “Yeah?”
He motioned her over, and she came to the desk.
“You need to take a statement from this young lady. She’s a witness from yesterday.”
Taylor shook her head. “No, I really want to see Detective Borden. I’ve already talked to him and given him pictures. I just wanted to follow up because I thought of something else that I didn’t tell him. I don’t want to start all over. No offense,” she said, glancing at the woman.
“It’ll be okay,” Klein said. “Come to my desk.” She led them through the room that was probably usually busier. But Taylor guessed most of the police officers were out investigating the terror attack.
Klein pulled up two chairs in front of her desk and motioned for them to sit.
Taylor wasn’t sure why this gave her such anxiety. “Can’t you call Detective Borden?”
“I will if I need to. He’s working the case.” She pulled out a form and poised to write. “I don’t have a lot of time. If you could just give your info to me, I’ll make sure he gets it.”
“Okay,” Taylor said with a heavy sigh. “I guess it’s better than nothing.”
“Story of my life,” the woman muttered. “First, tell me your name, address, phone number.”
Taylor gave her the information. “I gave the detective some of my pictures yesterday from inside the building just before the bombing happened. But today I heard on the news that the explosion was from underneath the building. It rang a bell for me. It made me think of one of my pictures, something I didn’t know might be connected.”
Taylor picked up her phone and thumbed through the pictures until she found the one with the truck. “Just before we went into the concert hall, my friends and I were hanging out around the VIP entrance, hoping we could see the guys in Blue Fire when they showed up for the concert. We never did. But we took a few selfies out in front of it. And when I looked back at those pictures, I saw this U-Haul box truck pulling in behind us. It may not be important. I know it could be a caterer or a roadie with the band or merchandise or something. But it just strikes me as odd that it was a rental truck.”
The officer frowned, took Taylor’s phone, zoomed in more with her fingers, and studied the pictures. “Okay, just a minute. I need to take this for a second.”
“Sure,” Taylor said.
Klein headed back to the front desk and showed the sergeant the picture. Then she got on the phone.
“Maybe she’s calling him,” Harper said.
Taylor watched the woman talking animatedly on the phone. “Yeah, maybe.”
“It could be just what they need,” Harper said. “Maybe they can trace the truck.”
Taylor didn’t get her hopes up, because the numbness that had set in had left her feeling flat and soulless. She hates me. The old, ritualistic mantra played through her head.
“Are you okay?” her sister whispered.
“Yeah. I don’t really know what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing is wrong with you. You’re still in shock. You’re experiencing grief, confusion—”
“I’m okay,” Taylor said again.
Finally Klein came back to her desk. “I just spoke to Detective Borden. He wants to see you. Can you wait for him?”
“Yes, of course.”
“It may be an hour or so. He’s a little tied up right now.”
“At the concert hall?”
“Probably.”
“Have you moved the bodies yet?” Taylor asked.
Klein tipped her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk to you about that.”
“Okay, I get it. It’s just . . . some of my friends are in there.”
“I know,” Klein said. “I’m so sorry. But it’s a crime scene.”
Taylor closed her eyes. It wasn’t right. First, they’d been viciously murdered. And now they were left on that floor?
The officer led them back to the waiting area, but before they reached it, Taylor felt dizzy, as if she might faint. She reached for the wall to steady herself.
“You’re not okay,” Harper said.
Taylor tried to rally. “I am. I just should have eaten.”
“I’ll go find a vending machine.”
Taylor sat down, and the dizziness subsided.
I’m going to die of this. I’m going to die of this.
She knew what she was doing. She was letting her intrusive thoughts invade her mind again. She would call her therapist when she got home and maybe get in to see her today. She couldn’t let herself slide into that mode again. She had come too far to slip back now.
Harper returned with a Coke and a bag of potato chips. “Eat these. We might be here for a while.”
Taylor ate them even though she could barely taste. What had happened to her senses? Had they fallen asleep, since she wasn’t able to? Were they shocked into paralysis?
As she ate, she felt life slowly seeping back into her.
An hour passed. Then two.
Finally Harper went back to the desk. “Excuse me, but my sister was
told that the detective would be here an hour ago. He’s still not here. Can we go home, or should we stay?”
“The detective asked that you stay,” the sergeant said. “Really, it shouldn’t take much longer.”
Harper came back to Taylor. “Maybe you should call him yourself. Didn’t he give you his card?”
“Yeah.” Taylor grabbed her bag and looked through it, trying to figure out what she had done with the card. When she didn’t find it, she looked up at Harper. “I think I must have put it in my pocket yesterday. What did you do with my bloody clothes?”
“They’re still in my gym bag in the trunk of my car. I’ll go get it.”
Taylor leaned her head against the wall as her sister went out to the parking lot. She was tired, so tired. Sleep had evaded her last night. Terror invaded her dreams every time she nodded off, so she’d tried to keep herself awake.
I’m going to die of this.
Just a little longer, she told herself. Then she would call her therapist.
17
Jamie stepped inside the courthouse and set her briefcase and phone on the metal-detector belt. The person in front of her was wearing pajamas and flip-flops. So much for trying to make a good impression when she stood before the judge. It never ceased to amaze her that people whose lives and freedom depended on the judge’s ruling made so little effort.
The pj-clad defendant had to go back outside to return her phone to her car. The guard checked Jamie’s bag and handed that and her phone back to her, since attorneys were the only ones allowed to bring anything in.
“Hey, could you tell me something?” she asked the guard. “Have you seen any media in here this afternoon?”
The guard shook his head. “Not any of the ones I’d recognize.”
“Great,” she said. She went into the courtroom and looked around. The bailiff walked up and down the room, keeping the place quiet, but defendants and their friends or family members still whispered among themselves. She didn’t see anyone she recognized to be media. It was too good to be true that they wouldn’t have learned of Dustin’s arrest yet. That couldn’t last much longer.
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