Rainy had already sent a preservation request to Tanner’s cell phone provider. Any evidence against him would remain on the servers.
“Are you two dating?”
“We were,” Tanner said. “She dumped me. I guess she prefers older men.”
“When did she dump you?” Rainy asked.
“A couple days ago. Are you here to investigate why we broke up?” He smiled a wry, unpleasant grin. The boy’s arrogance was as repulsive to her as what she now believed he’d done with Lindsey’s pictures.
“Did Lindsey Wells send you any pictures of herself?” Rainy asked.
“What sort of pictures?”
“You know what sort of pictures, Tanner. Ones she’d want only her boyfriend to see.”
“No,” he said.
“Would you be willing to submit to a consent search?”
“What’s that?”
“Something that would let me check your phone. See what information and communication you’ve got stored there.”
“I don’t think I would.”
“No. I didn’t think you would, either. Did you encourage her to take pictures of herself and send them to you?”
“Nope.”
“Do you know that constitutes a crime in the federal system? You could go to jail. Or were you one of those boys who weren’t listening at my talk?”
“I was listening,” Tanner said.
Rainy could see that she’d punched another small hole through his defenses. She was within her legal rights to question Tanner, a minor, without his parents present. But she wondered how much more she could press him before he figured out he was under attack and asked for a parent or attorney to be present. In truth, she’d love for that to happen. It became harder to hide the truth once a suspect officially entered the system. Go ahead and lawyer up, Rainy thought as she decided to push ahead with the informal interview.
“So if you were at my talk and listening, you’d remember how much hard time you’ll do. Fifteen years. Maybe more. And that you’ll be registered as a sex offender.”
“What is it you want from me?” Tanner asked.
“The truth. Any idea why Lindsey thinks that you did something with those pictures?”
“You’re the cop.”
“FBI.”
“Whatever.”
“So, any ideas?”
“I told you, I don’t have a clue. She dumped me, remember? If she said anything to you about any pictures, it was probably just to get back at me. Don’t ask me for what. I’m not the one getting Tom-a-Hawked.”
Rainy grimaced. “I’m assuming that’s your crude euphemism for sex,” Rainy said.
“Euphe-what?”
“Never mind,” Rainy said with a dismissive wave.
Two people approached Rainy and Tanner from the right. One was an older man, tall and handsome, the way an ex-athlete might look years after the glory days. The other was a boy near to Tanner’s age. They looked too much alike for them not to be father and son.
“What’s going on?” asked the man.
“Hey, Mitchell, Mr. Boyd,” Tanner said. “This is an agent from the FBI. She’s asking me about Lindsey.”
The older Boyd’s unflinching expression would have befit a statue. The younger one’s appearance was much edgier than Tanner’s: short hair with gelled spikes, a silver cross earring in his right ear.
“What’s up with Lindsey?” Mitchell asked. The boy’s expression darkened the way threatening clouds dim a sunny day.
“This is a private matter between myself and Tanner. It doesn’t concern anybody else.”
“Well, did he tell you what you wanted to know?” The older Boyd placed a hand on Tanner’s shoulder. “Tanner’s like family to us. If he’s in any trouble, I’d like to know.”
“Tanner’s a big boy,” Rainy said. “He knows what trouble he’s in.”
Roland stayed quiet for a long second. The kids circled around them again. Anyone watching from a distance would have expected to hear shouts of “Fight! Fight!” coming from the circle’s perimeter.
Roland unexpectedly extended his hand. “Forgive my manners,” he said. “My name is Roland Boyd. This is my son Mitchell.”
Rainy shook Roland’s hand. His grip was strong; the handshake professional.
“Well, if there is anything we can do to help with your efforts, you just let us know.”
“I sure will,” Rainy answered.
Something about the conversation struck Rainy as peculiar. Tanner didn’t come across as someone with a great deal of respect for Coach Hawkins. He sure as heck didn’t sound like an underling talking about the boss who allegedly paid him good money for naked pictures of Lindsey Wells.
Chapter 44
For several tense moments, nothing was said. Rainy had to get her audio recording equipment running. This session would be taped. She got approval from the front office to record it because the AUSA assigned to the James Mann case wasn’t available to hear it first hand. Marvin had to agree to let Rainy record the session before she even considered the drive north. In exchange, Marvin promised no legal maneuverings that might delay the federal deposition of Tom Hawkins in connection to their case against James Mann.
“We both have something to gain,” Marvin had told Tom when explaining why Agent Miles was willing to participate in the discussion.
“Just a reminder that we’re on the record here,” Rainy said after she positioned the microphone closest to Tom. The digital recorder’s red light blinked in front of Tom in a threatening way.
She still wants to intimidate me, Tom thought.
“I’ve got nothing to hide,” Tom said.
“You understand that everything you say here could be admissible in a court of law?”
“Understood,” Tom and Marvin answered together.
Rainy nodded subtly. “What is it you’re looking for from the FBI?” she asked Marvin. She rolled the sleeves of her jacket up to her elbows. Tom noticed that she wasn’t wearing any rings.
“You suspect my client has somehow supplied material to a person or persons being brought up on federal child pornography charges.”
“I’m not here to discuss my caseload,” Rainy said. Tom saw the patience and interest drain from her eyes. “You said you had information for me,” she reminded Marvin.
“Have you done a time line of the two cases?” Marvin asked her.
“Not sure what you’re getting at.”
“I’ve reviewed a lot of the D.A.’s discovery materials,” continued Marvin. “Forty girls, ten from Shilo. Tom personally knows some of those girls, but not all of them. How did he get these girls to give him their pictures?”
“No evidence exists to prove that he couldn’t have procured the images in question,” Rainy said. “There is plenty of evidence to suggest that your client is in violation of numerous federal laws specific to child pornography material. Now, if your client is interested in working with the federal government, perhaps we can help to broker a deal with the state.”
“Deal?” Tom said.
Rainy ignored Tom, directing her attack toward Marvin. “You know we haven’t ruled out federal charges against your client, either—”
“But isn’t that double jeopardy?” Tom interrupted. “You can’t be tried for the same crime twice. Can you?”
“Double jeopardy has a separate sovereigns exception,” Marvin explained. “In the American federal system, states and the federal government are considered separate sovereign powers.”
“At this time,” Rainy continued, “the quantity and nature of material found in your client’s possession haven’t generated enough federal interest to pursue the matter independent of the state’s case against Mr. Hawkins. But that could change—quickly, too. Like the direction of the wind.”
Marvin smiled at Rainy, who was seated directly across from him. Tom disliked the feeling that he wasn’t even a presence in the room, but he was even more curious about where Marvin was taking this
conversation. Instead of objecting, he remained a silent observer.
“I’m not here to get my client into any trouble with the federal government,” Marvin said. “You’re free to depose him for your case. I already promised you no legal tap dancing there. But when you do depose him, he’ll tell you what he’s been telling me from the get-go.”
“Which is?”
“That he’s being framed for something he didn’t do,” Marvin said.
“What are you asking me to do here?” asked Rainy.
“All I’m asking is that you look at this case through different eyes.”
“Such as?”
“For starters, don’t you think it’s a little too convenient that you bust James Mann, and a few days after you come to Shilo, you bust his supplier? I would think that would give a seasoned investigator such as yourself a moment’s pause.”
“Is that what you think?” Rainy said.
“Do you know what the longest hitting streak is in baseball, Agent Miles?”
“Joe DiMaggio,” Rainy said without hesitating. “Fifty-six games.” She looked at both men, who seemed genuinely surprised by the quickness of her answer. “My mom got me into baseball,” she explained.
“Well, the probability of that streak happening again has been mathematically proven. Guess how many years, statistically speaking, it will take before a streak like that happens again?”
“Fifty?” Rainy said.
“Try five hundred,” Marvin replied.
“And your point is?”
“The probability of your coming to a small town like Shilo to make an ID of a girl and days later uncovering the supplier is more remote than that streak being broken in our lifetimes. That’s what I think.”
Rainy shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t see how baseball and the case against Mr. Hawkins—”
“Tom, please,” Tom interrupted. He wanted Rainy to use his first name so she’d be more inclined to view him as a person, not just a case. Rainy, in response, flashed Tom a look as if to say he’d always be Mr. Hawkins to her.
“I don’t see how baseball and the case are related,” Rainy finished.
“I’ve done some digging of my own into James Mann,” Marvin said. “The guy was about to become president of a major pharmaceutical company. Seems as unlikely a person to be procuring these images as my client is to be distributing them. That just makes it even more bizarre. Three times more unlikely to happen than the next DiMaggio, I’m willing to bet.”
“There is no typecasting for these crimes. You know that.”
“No, but there is instinct. And I’m asking you to keep an open mind here. These men don’t even know each other.”
“The Internet makes friends out of strangers all the time,” said Rainy. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Mr. Pressman. I realize that it’s your job to believe in your client’s innocence. But we’ve looked at the evidence against Mr. Hawkins. One of the top computer analysts in my squad even helped your computer forensic guys crack the encryption code.”
“What about Tom’s home computer?”
“That came back clean,” Rainy said.
“Because his work computer is easier to access. Somebody would have to trick him into downloading a virus or break into his home to tamper with his home PC.”
“It’s true,” Tom said. “I don’t always lock my office. People are in and out of the building all the time. There aren’t any security cameras, and people know when I’m at practice and won’t be showing up unexpectedly.”
Rainy fell silent. “What I strongly suggest,” she eventually said, with an increasingly severe expression, “is that you think about cutting a deal.”
Marvin leaned over the conference table, closer to Rainy. Tom could see the determination in his face. “Why would my client go through such extreme measures to launder the money he allegedly earned while engaged in this criminal activity, and then suddenly become reckless?” he asked.
“I’d say we’d need Tom to answer that question,” replied Rainy.
Marvin appeared unmoved by her response. He continued. “Then he risks his carefully controlled enterprise, which he’d allegedly run in secret for years, by having an affair with one of the girls?”
“Attraction can make you do stupid things,” said Rainy.
“And nobody in Shilo sees Tom coming and going,” Marvin said. “No one notices him getting close to their kids. Nobody ever raised an alarm. No police reports filed. No request to investigate. Does that really make sense to you, Agent Miles? Do you really believe that to be true?”
“I believe in following the evidence,” answered Rainy. “Not forming conclusions.”
Marvin said, “And you think Lindsey could have kept this from her mother? All the other girls?”
“Kids keep secrets from their parents all the time,” Rainy said. “Secrets are an essential part of growing up. We all have them. We all keep them. Teenagers, especially girls, are highly impressionable. They could have been convinced to stay quiet. Tom could have made these girls feel special, important, and different from the others. And they’d keep on feeling that way. They’d feel that way for as long as what they were doing stayed secret. That’s what I believe.”
“Agent Miles,” Tom said, “do you have any kids?”
Marvin shot Tom a disapproving glance. Tom held up his hand to urge patience from his attorney.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Rainy replied.
“It’s relevant because you’d think differently about me if you knew what it felt like to be a parent.”
“I still don’t see—”
“I’m not saying you’d think I was innocent,” Tom continued, “but I do think a part of you would wonder if I was like most parents. If I spent my every waking moment thinking about my kid’s well-being. If I’d sacrifice my own life for hers. If I’d do everything in my power to make sure my child had every possible advantage in life. You’d wonder that about me. I believe that’s true. And then you’d wonder how in the hell I could do what I’ve been accused of doing.”
“What is it you want from me, Mr. Hawkins?”
“Tom, please,” he said. He looked Rainy in the eyes. Something about her expression had shifted. Where before he’d seen judgment, now he saw a trace of doubt.
“What is it you want from me, Tom?”
“What I want is for you to look at the evidence again,” Tom said. “But this time, instead of hoping that you’ve miraculously found your missing link, try using a different approach.”
“What approach would that be?” asked Rainy.
“This time, try to think of me as an innocent man.” Tom held Rainy’s gaze for a moment. He felt something pass between them. It wasn’t that she suddenly believed him to be innocent. But he could see now that she wanted him to be innocent.
It was a start.
Chapter 45
Tom went out to get the mail a few hours before nightfall. He sifted through a stack of bills on his walk back up the driveway (those would have to wait), saw a promotional flyer from the Plenty Market (he’d canceled his customer loyalty card), and noticed one surprising item in the mix. It was a letter, addressed to him, from Adriana Boyd.
With his back against the kitchen counter, Tom opened the letter using a butter knife. Inside, he found a slender, hand-bordered card, monogrammed with Adriana’s name. Her handwritten note, written in purple pen and elegantly scripted, wasn’t dated.
Dear Tom,
I hope this note finds you as well as can be. I believe in you and know that you’ll soon be cleared of any wrongdoing. I also wanted to apologize for Roland’s recent behavior. I know that he’s told you to keep away from me. He’s asked that I do the same with you. I’m respecting my husband’s wishes only in part, as I’m keeping you in my thoughts and prayers each day. It is important to me that you know you haven’t been forgotten.
I believe in you.
With care and concern,
&nbs
p; Adriana
Tom reread Adriana’s card before slipping it back in its envelope. He tucked the card and envelope inside the kitchen junk drawer, buried underneath a couple rolls of Scotch tape, pens, pencils, an address book, and one partially used disposable camera.
The phone rang. He answered it and smiled before the caller could finish her greeting.
“Hi, Dad,” Jill said. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m over at Lindsey’s house. We’re studying for a chem test tomorrow.”
“Hey!” Tom said. “I was just about to text you, but it’s a lot nicer hearing your voice.”
The conversation that followed wasn’t anything more extraordinary than a parent and child playing catch-up: “How are you? What’s new at school? What have you been up to?” After about ten minutes of back-and-forth chitchat, Tom got the sense his daughter wanted to end the call. It was just one of the many ways that he’d come to know Jill’s personality better.
“I hope you’ve been eating well,” Jill said to him.
“Hey, who’s the parent here?” Tom replied. “Anyway, I’m eating fine.”
“Dad, you can’t cook.”
“I’m not that bad.”
“Whatever. I should probably get back to studying with Lindsey.”
Tom glanced over at the kitchen table, where he’d been doing some studying of his own. On that table were six large legal tomes, each splayed open, plus a bunch of printed-out documents and spiral-bound notebooks filled with Tom’s research on child pornography and legal defenses. He’d drawn only one conclusion based on the cases he’d studied: Marvin really had his work cut out for him.
“I’m so glad you and Lindsey have reconciled,” said Tom.
“Me too,” Jill said.
“You know you can come home anytime,” Tom said to her. “You don’t have to stay at the Kalinowskis’ if you don’t want to.”
Jill went quiet, and Tom allowed her to process without interruption.
“Maybe I will,” she eventually said.
“Your room is waiting.”
“Okay. Well, I really should keep cramming… unless you happen to know anything about the photoelectric effect.”
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