[Piper Anderson 01.0] Three Seconds to Rush

by Danielle Stewart

  “I’m fine; how about you, are you fine? Are you clearheaded enough to have this conversation? I don’t need to be wasting my time. I put off two other meetings to have you up here. If you’re going to be turning down drug treatment, I hope you have some other plan for yourself. You’ll need to be clean for trial. Otherwise there’s really no point to this.”

  “What are you talking about?” Tara laughed but stopped abruptly at the look on his face. “I told you I don’t need drug treatment. I don’t do drugs.”

  “Did you take that cab home last night?” The arrogant look on his face made Tara’s stomach knot up.

  “Are you following me?” she asked indignantly, feeling like if she couldn’t get Reid to believe her, twelve strangers would surely never give her the benefit of the doubt.

  “I happened to see you,” he said bitterly, straightening some papers on his desk. “Listen I would be crazy to assume you’d kick the habit all in one night. All I’m saying is we need a plan to make sure you’re clean by trial time. You need to be open to that.”

  “Pass,” she said, nibbling angrily at the side of her mouth.

  “What?” Reid twisted his face in frustration. “What are you talking about?”

  “Pass; don’t you remember?” Tara’s mind, which had been pushed to the brink by sleep deprivation, had to wonder if maybe this wasn’t Reid. How could he have forgotten their code words and their secrets?

  “I . . . uh . . .” He faltered, narrowing his eyes at her. She would have sworn he was a stranger until he ran a hand over his cheek and rested it under his chin. The way he always had when she drove him nuts.

  “That’s what we used to say.” She smiled, wishing he’d remember it as fondly as she did. “If something got too heavy between us, if we couldn’t get the other person to see things our way, we’d say pass so we didn’t kill each other.”

  “Tara, this isn’t a game.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “We aren’t kids anymore. You could go to jail. You might miss your son growing up. I need you to do what I ask of you.”

  “Just pass, Reid. It’s not that I won’t do what you want, I’m just saying let’s move on to something else. There must be other things we could do first. Why argue right out of the gate?”

  “Fine,” he acquiesced. “We need resources. Expert witnesses and an investigator. The police had you pegged as guilty from the first moment. They didn’t look any further into the case. That alone might be enough to create some reasonable doubt in a jury.”

  “How much does all that stuff cost? I know that your hourly rate must be way above my budget, but I want you to know I’ll do what I can to pay you back. Even if it takes me a lifetime.” She crossed her finger over her heart, another piece of their own, long-forgotten language.

  “Forget that right now. I’ll cover the cost of the investigator and call in some favors. There’s someone I’ve known a while. I asked her to join us this morning. It took some persuading, but I think she’ll have a good perspective, even if she doesn’t take the job.”

  “Okay,” Tara said in a tiny voice, feeling like she was overextending her friendship with Reid. She’d relied heavily on the past relationship between them but now she was sure she was exploiting that part of Reid that could never say no to her. If that was her only path back to Wylie she’d have to get right with it.

  “Her name is Willow. She’s based in New York, but she owes me a few favors. She’s willing to come up for a while and hear you out.”

  “And she’s an investigator?” Tara had wrongly assumed the investigator would be some big-bellied old man, retired from his detective job and looking to freelance. In her mind she’d conjured up an image of an old time Dick Tracy.

  “She’s more than an investigator. She runs an innocence project that helps people who have been wrongfully convicted. This isn’t in her normal protocol considering you haven’t been convicted yet.”

  “Yet?”

  “I mean it’s earlier than Willow normally jumps on a case, but she was willing to come today. That’s a start. She’s the best at what she does. I’ve never seen anyone so driven at what she believes. You want her in your corner, so remember that. She has a family of her own and working with us will be keeping her from them. It’s a lot to ask.”

  “Got it,” Tara said, happy that no matter what Willow was like, they had that one common thread; they were both mothers. Surely she’d understand the horror Tara was feeling.

  “She’s going to ask you things you might not want to answer. Don’t get defensive. Hear her out. Nothing she throws at you will be worse than what the prosecutor will be asking.” Reid looked at her with an intensity that demanded an answer.

  Tara nodded, but like a dammed river finally cresting she asked the questions she knew Reid did not want to answer. “Are you sure there is no way I can see Wylie? Not even for a few minutes? I think if I called the Oldens, even though we haven’t gotten along in the past, they’d let me see him. He must be asking for me all the time. I’m his whole world.”

  “No,” Reid asserted. “It’s not a good idea right now. Focus on the case.” Reid didn’t blink. He didn’t soften his gaze or mollify his voice.

  “That’s easy for you to say; you don’t have kids. You can’t imagine what it’s like to not be with him right now. You don’t know the agony.” She clutched a hand to her heart and the tears began to form again. “I brush his teeth every night and sing this song about Pearl the white tooth. I remind him to take potty breaks. This is the longest I’ve ever gone without him lying in my arms to fall asleep.”

  “Good,” Reid said, looking her over appraisingly. “You need to continue to play that card, be sympathetic.” He waved his arm like a director instructing an actress.

  “You think this is a card?” Her eyes shot wide open with disbelief. “You think this paralyzing pain of not having my son in my arms is some kind of act? I know every single inch of him, every freckle, every cry. I know him better than I know myself. I love him more than I have ever loved anything, and not being with him right now, imagining he’s scared, imagining he’s missing me, is the most crushing thing I’ve ever experienced, and trust me Reid, my life hasn’t been easy.”

  There it was. Finally, a break in his steely expression. He swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple jumped. His cheeks changed just slightly, the quick burning red of a firework that fizzled out just as quickly. It was unfortunate the only thing that had rattled him also confirmed Tara’s presumption of why he was here helping. Guilt. At the sound of hearing confirmation that her life had been littered with troubles, she knew instantly he felt blame for much of it.

  “She’ll be good on the stand,” a smooth voice said from behind Tara, sending her jumping. In strode a bronze-skinned woman with large eyes and bluntly cut blonde hair. Her clothes were casual, just a gray T-shirt and some well-fitting dark jeans, her black flats looking almost like slippers. Rope bracelets laced around her wrists and an intricately wound metal necklace hung long on her. She was well put together yet intentionally disjointed.

  “Willow,” Reid announced, standing quickly and pulling her in for a hug. A hug? Reid had seemed so stiff, so unfamiliar and cold, but now he was throwing hugs around. Clearly this was more than just a professional favor. “How’s the family? Is Josh still working at the clinic?”

  “He is,” Willow announced with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “He’s a glutton for punishment. But he’s doing some good, and you know how important that is to him. My husband the martyr.” They both laughed and Tara felt small, like she didn’t belong.

  “I always said he should wear a cape to work. I don’t know how he does it. All those treatment programs and sad cases. It has got to be exhausting.” Reid shook his head and flashed his familiar friendly smile at Willow. There was a time in their lives that Tara and Reid had their own body language. It was all gone now, saved for other people.

  “He must be a superhero to put up with me,” she joked as she leaned
against the small bookshelf below the window. She didn’t opt for the chair next to Tara, probably a tactic to stay noncommittal to the situation.

  “I appreciate your making the trek up here. Your opinion on the case means a lot to me.” Reid settled back into his chair.

  “I’d imagined you’d be interested in more than my opinion; I figured you’d want my services.” She cocked one of her brows and challenged him. Then she smiled, letting him off the hook.

  “I didn’t want to start begging too early,” he said with a wry show of his teeth. “You and Josh have been key players in so many of these cases, and I don’t know how I’d have gotten through some of them without you. I respect you both a lot and . . .”

  “Are we already to the flattery stage?” Willow laughed, waving him off and pushing her bangs off her face. “Let’s hear what we’re working with, and I’ll let you know how I can help. You know Josh and I will do anything we can for you. Now who are we trying to get out of jail?”

  “No one’s in jail yet,” Reid said, his voice sounding cautious.

  “I don’t hop in before trial,” Willow said, tipping her head in annoyance, like she was reminding a child there would be no dessert before dinner. “It’s messy and not my area of expertise. But you already know this, yet I’m still here.”

  “This is Tara,” Reid said, gesturing down at her. He gave Willow the run-down of all the information he had so far, and Tara moved her glance nervously between the two of them as he did. Willow had one hell of a poker face. No matter what Reid said she never flinched.

  “I know it sounds crazy,” Tara finally chimed in, realizing on paper and without perspective, her side of the story was far-fetched and full of holes. “I’m telling the truth. I just need help proving it and—”

  Willow cut her off, looking apologetic but unwavering. “I’m sure by now Reid has told you the intricacy of the justice system is not solely balanced on proof or truth.”

  “Not so eloquently,” Tara said, flashing a quick smile at Reid then turning her attention back to Willow. “He’s told me I don’t stand a chance.”

  “I started down this path,” Willow said, beginning to pace the room, spinning her necklace around her finger, “when my older brother Jedda was arrested for murder. He spent most of his life in prison for that crime until people began to listen, until they began to step in. It inspired my career and changed my life when he was freed. I got my brother back and understood what impact we can all have on the justice system.”

  “He was wrongfully convicted?” Tara asked with a tiny spark of hope, a sense of me too.

  “No,” Willow said with a shake of her head. “He killed two people who happened to be our parents. But the trial was not adequately handled, and there were enough loopholes to get him free. There were representation issues. It took a lot, but with perseverance he’s living a great life right now.”

  “But he was a murderer?” Tara asked and regretted it immediately when Reid cleared his throat with annoyance. He’d warned her to be respectful, abundantly grateful, and instead she was being accidently insulting.

  Willow only laughed. “Technically, yes he was. And that’s my point to almost everyone I come into contact with during these situations. If you are looking for black and white, right or wrong, you will most certainly be disappointed. Some killers shouldn’t be in prison, and some innocent people get sent there. I work to make sure the law is followed, the person given due process. That’s not the same as proving someone innocent.”

  “But I am innocent,” Tara insisted, wide eyes passing back and forth between Willow and Reid, begging for their reassurance. Wasn’t it enough to just be right?

  “Pass,” Reid said with a nearly imperceptibly lift of the corner of his mouth. “There are other things we can do. We don’t need to fight on that one.”

  Tara reluctantly nodded. At least he was remembering what it was like to argue with her. It wasn’t ideal, and she wished he would back her wholeheartedly, but moving forward was more important than his true support. “Where do we start?”

  “We start where they’ll start,” Willow announced, finally sitting down next to Tara. A wave of earthy perfume came with her, and it calmed Tara for a moment. She smelled like a mom, soft and clean. “But where they stop, we’ll keep going. While the trial itself is far more Reid’s department than mine, I can lead the investigation.”

  “You’re ready to sign on?” Reid asked, looking skeptical, like it had been too easy to sway her.

  “Normally by the time I get the call it’s already too late. It’s an uphill battle to free someone. I’ve been feeling burned out lately, I could use a good fight where we could actually get a jump on things.” She crossed her legs and leaned in toward the desk. “Plus, even though you haven’t said it yet, I get the feeling Tara isn’t some stranger who stumbled across your doorstep yesterday, looking for a lawyer. So if she’s important enough to you, you know Josh and I are in.”

  “Thanks, Willow,” Reid said, and Tara took note of the way his eyes could not hold hers. There was a time when emotions, real ones, didn’t send him into a panic. “So we know there was little to no actual investigation,” he continued, regaining the original thread of the conversation.

  “I can’t entirely blame them,” Willow said, flipping through some papers Reid had handed over. “I mean the dots weren’t very hard to connect. The child was found at 9:02 p.m. in the back parking lot of the grocery store. The registration to the car nearby led them to Tara’s name, and then Tara was found at 9:27 p.m. about half a mile away. She had her identification on her and the officers were able to piece it together.”

  “But Tara held true to her story with each person she spoke to. It could have sparked some sort of follow up but it didn’t. It’s our opportunity to prove some reasonable doubt.” It was refreshing to hear him consider the idea that she wasn’t some drug addled liar who abandoned her child. “Are you ready to start answering some questions, real answers?” Reid leaned back in his chair and eyed her like a principal with a troubled student. “Anything said in this room will be kept confidential, and we need to know what the prosecutor is going to find out about you.”

  “I’ve been answering your questions honestly; you just don’t like my answers,” Tara argued, louder than she meant to. “But fine. Ask me whatever.”

  “How long have you been using drugs?” Willow started, seeming unfazed by the tension growing in the room. Her pen hovered over a notebook, waiting for the answer as though she’d just asked Tara to spell her full name or give her date of birth. As if it were nothing at all.

  “I don’t do drugs.” Tara drew in a deep breath, in order to keep from screaming.

  “Um,” Willow started but then pushed past it. “All right. If that’s the stance you’re going to take you’ll need to know what the prosecutor will do to prove otherwise. Everything has a trail.”

  “Things that don’t exist don’t have a trail,” Tara countered, tossing her hands up. “I feel like we’re wasting time here. I’m not going to just tell you what you want to hear.”

  “Fine, let’s prove it then,” Willow said, sounding completely unconvinced. “The prosecutor will look for financial indicators that you have a drug problem.”

  Tara grabbed a pen and paper and scribbled down some information. “That’s my online banking sign in. I have one account. My paycheck from the deli goes in once a week, and the newspaper delivery money goes in every two weeks. The money I get for teaching piano puts gas in my tank. Absolutely every dime goes to an expense you can track. I’m not buying anything that isn’t for the survival of Wylie and me. It’s all food, utilities, rent. I usually have about eleven dollars left at the end of every month, and that’s only if I spend a couple days a week eating only cottage cheese and crackers so that Wylie can have food. I don’t have drugs, and I don’t have drug money. So what’s next?”

  Willow looked taken back by the candor, or maybe the desperation, in Tara’s voic
e. But she pushed through nonetheless. “They’ll look at associates of yours. Other people in your life that might be addicts.”

  “I have exactly zero friends. There are a few people at work I chat with from time to time but nothing more than that. People I used to know, before I had Wylie, they aren’t in my life anymore. It’s him and me. I’m doing everything I can to give him a decent life, and I haven’t met many decent people to introduce to him so I don’t bother. Check my phone records.”

  Willow jotted down some notes. “Reid says you don’t have any criminal history or drug charges; that will help. But the prosecutor won’t back down there.”

  “What else could she possibly say? I’ve never been in trouble for drugs, I don’t have money for drugs, and I don’t hang around people who do them. What else is there?”

  Reid rubbed the bridge of his nose as he spoke. “There are other ways to make money that wouldn’t go into your bank account. Prostitution is frequently associated with drug use.”

  “Reid,” Tara cried, “I’m not a hooker.”

  He flinched but didn’t let that quiet him. “You asked what else the prosecutor would pursue. There won’t be anything that’s considered off limits or out of bounds. You should prepare yourself for that. At the end of the day your blood work confirmed you had drugs in your system. They’ll flash the photos from the crime scene, they’ll show your son freezing in the cold night air alone. And they’ll say you probably sold your body for drugs.”

  “Why won’t you help me?” Tara folded over into herself and cried. “Why is this happening?”

  “He is helping you,” Willow corrected. “He’s preparing you for what’s going to happen. He’s giving you a chance to change your plea. Lying to you and telling you he believes everything is going to be all right might feel good now, but when that cell closes in around you, it won’t do you any good.”

  “Even if you say you don’t do drugs, and no record of drug abuse can be found, the prosecutor will claim maybe it was your first time. That doesn’t change the situation.” Reid moved like a bulldozer over any emotion and barreled toward the facts.