The Green Line

by E. C. Diskin

  For a second, Abby tried to remain cool. It would never work. She was too sleep-deprived. She swiveled her chair toward the window as the tears began and wiped her face over and over and tilted her head back, as if she could stop the leak.

  Sarah continued. “I hope you don’t think it’s terrible for me to tell you this right now. I know you’re swamped and you look tired, and I don’t even know what happened last night. But I just thought that you are bound to run into him, especially if you end up going to court to file that temporary restraining order for Peter this afternoon. I thought you could use a warning.”

  “No, I know. Thanks for telling me.” She was still looking at the ceiling, as if she had a bloody nose. She wiped her eyes and looked at her friend with an embarrassed smile.

  “I shouldn’t be surprised. Obviously, we know he wanted to get married and start having kids. It’s just that it’s only been a few months. Who gets engaged to someone five months after breaking up with someone else?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “The sad thing is,” Abby began while attempting some levity, “I assumed that he wasn’t over me yet.” She began organizing stacks on her desk, as if to move on. “So much for me being the love of his life.”

  “Abby, I have no doubt he still loves you. But you gave him the ring back. I’m sure he thought there would be no reconciling. And we’re not getting any younger, girlfriend. He’s definitely not.” They both smiled and Abby wiped her face again.

  Abby’s phone rang. She looked down at her caller ID. “It’s Peter.”

  Sarah stood to leave.

  “I’m leaving early for a dress fitting. Lunch tomorrow, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  THE call with Peter, though uncomfortable, was well-timed, as it forced Abby to focus on work and put David out of her mind for the afternoon. She tried to explain herself, but before she got started, he said, “These things happen.” He was not interested in hearing her excuse. He told her Neil could handle this one so she was off the hook. Not what she wanted to hear. Getting removed from a case, regardless of the reason, was not good.

  She plowed through a few of the piles on her desk for the rest of the afternoon. By five o’clock, she felt like she had put in a full day. She was exhausted. Rubbing her eyes, Abby thought of how she needed her glasses. She also needed to repay that man, Ali Rashid. Shuffling through her bag, she found the coupon sheet and picked up the phone.

  “Quick Mart. How can I help you?”

  “Hello, this is Abigail Donovan. Is this Ali Rashid?”

  “Yes, hello.” His voice made clear he remembered her.

  “I just wanted to thank you again for getting me home safely last night.”

  “Not a problem. But I’m glad you called. You left your glasses in my car.”

  “I know. I realized that today. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get those from you, but as you might guess, I’m a little nervous about coming to your neighborhood again.”

  Ali laughed. “It’s not that bad, you know. In the daylight, you’d probably see that it’s just people. It’s a pretty poor neighborhood and there’s a good bit of crime, but mostly good people. We’ve just got some crackheads here and there,” he added lightly.

  Abby laughed. “I’m sure that’s true. I’m just a little freaked out. And unfortunately, I can never seem to get out of the office before dark. What if you came to the Loop and I took you to lunch?”

  “Well, I’d be pleased to have lunch with you, but I cannot let you pay for my lunch.”

  “Please, I insist on repaying you for your kindness.”

  There was a moment of silence and Abby waited, hoping she had not somehow insulted him. Would a woman ever buy a man lunch in Iraq? She had no idea.

  “Okay, that would be great,” Ali finally said. “When?”

  “How about tomorrow?”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t have help at the store tomorrow. I could do it Thursday.”

  “Great. Let’s say twelve thirty at Italian Village. Do you know where that is?”

  “That’s by the Daley Center, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “That would be lovely.”

  Just the sound of his voice, his sincerity, his formality, put her at ease. She was actually looking forward to seeing him again under much better circumstances.

  SIX

  AFTER a good night of sleep, Abby settled back into her daily routine: a full day focused on her caseload, a short dinner break with other associates in the cafeteria, followed by some Norah Jones in her office while the cleaning crew vacuumed the halls and she caught up on returning e-mails. At eight thirty, she grabbed her fourth coffee and settled in to do a bit more research for a case, planning to be out by ten. And get a cab, she thought.

  She was deep in concentration when the phone rang. The call was from an outside line.

  “Abigail Donovan,” she said in her typical business tone.

  “Abigail? It’s Ali Rashid.”

  “Oh, hello…how did you get my number?”

  “I checked my caller ID for your call from yesterday. I’m sorry to bother you so late.”

  “No problem. I’m working, unfortunately.”

  “Actually, I’m calling because I think I need a lawyer.”

  “Why’s that?” Abby sat back, almost welcoming the distraction.

  “I’ve been having problems with the police. They’re trying to shut me down and take my building.”

  “Hold on.” She sat forward and grabbed a pen and paper. “What happened?”

  “I don’t even know if I should have called you. Where I come from, you don’t fight police.” His fear was palpable.

  “Ali, it’s okay. Just start at the beginning.”

  “About eight months ago, the police arrested a boy for dealing drugs in my store. And then a couple of months ago it happened again. The officer said he found a bag of drugs behind the coffee maker as well.” He paused. “Hello?”

  “I’m here. I’m just taking notes. Go on.”

  “I was in the store both times. I never even saw anything happen. I’ve always cooperated with police, but they don’t like me. They brought me to the station one time and questioned me about drugs in the store and they asked about my legal status and . . .” He stopped.

  “And what?”

  “They just made some jokes about deporting me.”

  “Are you legal?”

  “Of course. But today the police officer returned and put a notice on my building that says it’s been ‘constructively seized’ pending a civil forfeiture action.”

  She could tell he was reading from the notice.

  “I didn’t understand and protested to the officer. I said, ‘This is my building’ and he just smiled and said ‘Not for long.’”

  Abby circled the word forfeiture in her notes.

  Ali continued. “I didn’t know who to call. I don’t know any lawyers. I don’t know how it works here. I don’t do drugs. I don’t sell drugs. I don’t know how they found drugs here or where the boy came from who they arrested.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Can they do that?” Ali sounded like he was getting more hysterical by the moment.

  Abby spoke calmly, hoping to slow him down. “I’m not sure. I really don’t know much about criminal law cases. I do commercial litigation—contract disputes, product liability, stuff like that.”

  “I’ve been struggling with this all day and then I thought of you. I hope you don’t mind.”

  She began jotting down some names of fellow associates. “Well, this is a big firm. We don’t do any criminal work, but we have some former district attorneys here. I’ll ask around tomorrow for some names and see if I can get you a good referral.”

  “Thank you, Abigail.”

  “Call me Abby. Besides, you saved my life. This is the least I can do. Let’s meet for lunch tomorrow as planned and I’ll have more information for you. You can tell me exactly what happened.”

/>   After hanging up, she wondered if she should call David about this. The state’s attorney’s office would be a good source for criminal-defense attorney references. But just the thought of having a conversation, of pretending that she was okay about everything, was too much.

  ON Thursday at twelve fifteen, Abby walked over to the Italian Village. The restaurant was packed with the typical business-lunchers along with a few tourists who had found their way over from the Marshall Field’s on State Street. The hostess led Abby to the table where Ali was waiting. Though his face was a bit of a blur until she got close to the table, she noticed for the first time that Ali was cute in a wholesome, nerdy way. He looked clean-cut, wearing a stiffly starched light-blue dress shirt and khakis. He stood as she approached the table. His smile revealed perfectly straight, bright white teeth and his obvious relief mixed with embarrassment. The familiar eyes made her feel instantly comfortable. They began with polite hellos, Ali returned Abby’s glasses, and they ordered their drinks. He sat forward and shared his tale in a hushed tone.

  “Abby, I feel like all of a sudden, out of nowhere, the whole life I’ve been building here is going to be destroyed.”

  Abby pulled a card from her purse. “I asked around this morning. This guy I work with was with the DA’s office for five years. He gave me the name of a lawyer who is well known in defense circles.” Abby handed him one of her business cards with the lawyer’s name and number on the back.

  “Is he expensive?”

  “Probably.”

  “I don’t have much money.”

  “Don’t worry about how to pay yet. I’m sure he has creative billing options. What’s most important is that you get great representation. You need to meet with him and get some proper legal advice.”

  “Yes, you’re right. Thank you so much.”

  “I haven’t really done anything. But I’ll be happy to call him and give him the heads-up that you’ll be calling.”

  “Okay, that would be wonderful.”

  Abby sat back then and offered a smile. “Try not to worry. This will get sorted out.” She had no idea if this would get sorted out, but she did not know what else to say.

  Ali nodded in agreement and caved into silence, scanning his menu.

  They ordered pasta and Ali quickly returned the subject to his store. “Abby, do you understand this law? Taking my building when I have done nothing wrong?”

  “I don’t know as much as the lawyer you should call. I do know that there are two ways police take property—criminal forfeiture and civil forfeiture. In criminal, they go after someone’s property after getting a criminal conviction. In civil actions, the case is actually against the property, so it doesn’t matter if the owner is proven guilty of anything. Often, the owner isn’t even arrested.”

  “But how can that be?”

  “I know it seems crazy. I researched it years ago in law school. The theory is that the property is an instrument of the crime—in this case, I’m guessing drug trafficking—and so it’s the property’s guilt at issue.”

  Ali shook his head in amazement.

  “It’s weird, I know.”

  “So, it doesn’t matter if I’m innocent?”

  “It depends. There are usually innocent owner defenses in these types of cases, but again, Ali, I’m not qualified to tell you whether this is a weak or a strong case.”

  “I used everything I had to buy that building. If I lose that, I lose everything.”

  “You own the building?”

  “Yes. I bought it several years ago. It was actually pretty cheap at the time because it was so run-down. But I’ve fixed it up. Last year I replaced a lot of windows and repaired the roof. Now it’s probably in the best shape of the buildings on the block.”

  “And you have a roommate?”

  Ali smiled. “Yes, his name is Miguel. We’ve lived together for three years now. He’s like my only family in this country.”

  “Well, try not to worry, Ali. I’m no expert, but this attorney that you’re going to call, I’m sure he’ll be able to ease your mind.” She then looked at her menu to avoid his eyes.

  She wasn’t an expert, and it was possible that the laws had changed in the last six years, but what she knew was disturbing. Seizing property was a great money-maker for police departments and the system was not set up to protect people like Ali. Abby looked at him as he buttered his bread. She could tell he was worried.

  “As soon as I get back to the office, I’ll call that attorney, Ted Gottlieb, and advise him that you’ll be calling. And don’t wait to call. It’s important to get someone working on this right away.”

  Ali nodded at her instructions.

  “Oh,” Ali added, “there’s something else I should tell you. The same officers who appeared yesterday with the notice were in my store on Tuesday also, asking about you.”

  “What?”

  “They had a picture of you. Looked like an ID card of some sort?”

  “Really? What did you say?”

  “Actually, I lied. I got nervous because I realized that you might have committed a crime, which would mean that I had helped you escape somehow.”

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t commit a crime. But I did stumble upon a crime scene. And I ran away because I was scared.” Her mind instantly returned to the dead woman’s face. “The police must have found my purse—that would actually be a relief. So I guess there’s no reason to worry. I’ve already given a statement about everything I saw.”

  “Were you at Reggie’s?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Well, word in the neighborhood the next day was that police pulled a dead prostitute and drugs out of there.”

  “Yes. I found her. I went in there looking for a phone but before I could call for help this gang came in and I ran.” Abby took a sip of tea and added sarcastically, “What a great night.”

  Ali sat back and smiled. “Well, I feel like it was a great night anyway. I met this lovely woman who, as it turns out, may be my guardian angel.”

  “Thank you. I think I was pretty lucky to have met you too.”

  WALKING back to her office, Abby was struck by Ali’s kindness, her good fortune in meeting him, and the bizarre string of events that led to their meeting. She felt a sudden fear for Ali. He felt like a friend. More than a friend, really. Now he was in big trouble. She knew well enough that he could actually lose his building over the drug bust. She began to recount all those cases she researched years ago. The details were still in her mind: The woman who lost her car because her husband solicited a prostitute while driving it. The parents who lost their home because their son secretly grew some pot on the property. The yacht company that lost one of its boats because a single joint had been found on board after a renter had used the boat. There were countless tales of innocent owners losing property. Antiquated laws, re-energized in the seventies to combat the “war on drugs” that only gained momentum as law enforcement realized the power and revenue created in taking property. It had infuriated and baffled her back in law school when she was simply focused on writing a good law review article. Now, as she came face-to-face with a potential victim, she just felt scared for him. Her cell phone rang and she stopped in mid-stride to answer.

  “Ms. Donovan?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Officer Reilly. I got your number from Officer Tunney out of the twenty-third district.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “He sent me the police report regarding Monday night. We appreciate your cooperation and we’d like to ask you some more questions. Also, I believe we have your purse.”

  So this was the same officer who served notice on Ali.

  “Oh sure. And I’m so relieved about my purse. Does that mean you arrested the men who took it?”

  “We found the purse at the scene, Ms. Donovan. There was no one there.”

  Something about his tone put her off.

  “I don’t see any cash in here, but otherwise, I’m guess
ing it’s all in order. Wallet, keys, ID. Can you come to the station?”

  “Of course, but can I come tomorrow? I’ve got a full day and a required work function at five.”

  “Well, we do have your statement, so I suppose we could wait until tomorrow.”

  “Thanks so much. And where is the station?”

  “Pulaski and Division.”

  “I’m a little nervous to come to that area. Could we meet somewhere else?”

  “We’d really like you to view some mug shots and see if you could identify anyone you might have seen that night.”

  “Oh. I guess that makes sense.”

  “Why don’t I pick you up at your office and bring you in? No reason to feel nervous when you have a police escort.”

  “Yes, but of course I’ll feel like a criminal,” she added lightly, envisioning herself getting into the back of a police car in front of her office.

  “Well, Ms. Donovan, there has been a crime. We need your cooperation.”

  “Of course.”

  “Why don’t I come to your office tomorrow at noon and bring you in? I’ll give you a lift back to the office afterward.”

  “Okay, that would be great.” She wondered if that was standard procedure.

  After lunch, Abby stared at the Dalcon Laboratories interrogatories for about two hours. She read the inquiries, drafted responses, stared at the computer screen, lost her thought, and tried again. It happened over and over. She decided to put it off and turn to her correspondence. The same thing kept happening. Her mind was wandering. She couldn’t get Ali and his new problems out of her head. She dialed David at work twice, but hung up both times.

  ABBY was staring out the window when Sarah popped her head into Abby’s office.

  “Hey, you ready?” Her lips were a fresh coat of dark purple that matched the burgundy knit sweater clinging to her shape. She looked ready for a night on the town.

  “For what?”

  “Where is your head these days, girlfriend? We’ve got the associates’ dinner tonight.”

  “Oh yes, of course. Is it time to go?”

  “Yeah, let’s just freshen you up for the brown-nose fest.”

  Abby laughed. She always looked like she’d been rolling around on the ground by the end of the work day. She habitually played with her hair and rubbed her eyes while researching, ruining her make-up. Her hair was now in a loose bun, held up by a pencil.