The crisp October air felt still and cool even into the late morning. Sunlight warmed our faces. A few dangling brown leaves hung from the bare branches of the surrounding oaks. A dark van exactly like the one that had followed me after my first meeting with E.J. Nielsen was parked at the far end of Montrose Avenue.
Marisa said, “I didn’t steal their files. They’re trying to pin this on me.”
“Then we need to give the judge some plausible reason why it wasn’t you. I know you don’t want to, but it’d probably be better if you testified.”
“They’re setting me up,” she replied.
“I know. But we have to offer some alternative explanation how the files went missing. Otherwise, the story Benton Dynamics is weaving will be the only thing the judge hears.”
Marisa said, “Okay. I’ll try, I guess. Um, Bryce, I’ll be right back.”
“Where’re you going?” I asked, apprehensive that she was bolting in the middle of the hearing. “The judge will start up again in a few minutes.”
“My car … just to get a sweater. Only be a sec.”
Marisa walked down the stone steps onto the concrete sidewalk and then disappeared around the corner. She headed away from the town center in the general direction of my law office. I wondered how I would explain to Judge Arnetti and E.J. Nielsen where my client was, if Marisa abandoned her defense and fled. A part of me wanted to join her. I hoped that Marisa had told the truth and would return, but my doubts were growing.
Sheriff Amanda Tompkins stepped through the courthouse door and stood next to me. “Morning, Mr. Seagraves. Where’s your client off to?”
“Watching us from the window, Sheriff? Her car, or so she says. Getting a sweater.”
“Yeah, the temperature has really dropped. But she’s coming back, right?”
“I certainly hope so.”
Tompkins crossed her arms. “When this is all done, Special Agent Wolanski and I will be in my office. We’re looking forward to a sit-down with your client.”
“Yeah, she said she’d come in for an interview. I’ll be there during questioning.”
The sheriff snorted. “So we might not get very far. Planning to exercise her right to remain silent? Sounds like Wolanski might’ve been right all along.”
“Not sure, but she told me she’d cooperate. We’ll see.”
The sheriff stared down the road where Marisa had gone, rubbed her nose, and offered no reply.
Pointing toward the end of the street, I said, “Hey, Sheriff, that dark van over there. It looks like one that followed me and tried to run me off the road.”
“Yeah, saw it when I got here. Looks like the van in your photo, but I checked it out. Not it.”
“You sure?” I asked.
“Not a Russian diplomatic plate. A local.”
Anyone with a screwdriver could have switched the license plates, so I was not as convinced as the sheriff. On the corner of Montrose Avenue and Court Street stood a speed camera. I continued, “Let me ask you something, Sheriff. How come all those speed cameras around the county? Never seen so many. Maybe three or four.”
The sheriff squinted as she looked down the street toward the speed camera atop a trailer. “I’ve noticed them, too. Not ours.”
“State police?”
“I guess. But independent contractors handle all that now. Law enforcement isn’t directly involved. A good way to keep speeding down.”
I shook my head in mild disgust. “And make a pile of revenue in fines. Those things are money-printing machines.”
“Yeah, for sure. Sounds like you’ve been nailed for a citation or two, Mr. Seagraves.”
“No, not yet. Probably in the mail, though. You know there’re supposed to be warning signs, but there aren’t any.”
“You’re right,” she replied. “But again, not my department.”
Buttoning up a plain gray sweater, Marisa walked briskly down the concrete sidewalk toward us. She was returning to court to face whatever would come next. Exhaling in relief, I waited for her between the tall white columns at the entrance of the historic courthouse.
Apparently satisfied that Marisa was not fleeing, the sheriff mumbled, “I’m heading back inside. The case has got to be starting up again soon.”
Checking my watch and figuring we had only about five minutes before Judge Arnetti took the bench again, I walked with Marisa inside and stopped at security. Even though I flashed my bar association card, the deputies made me go through the metal detector. My belt buckle set off a buzzer. A deputy waved a wand over me to ensure I was not concealing a weapon. The trial must have caused the courthouse to tighten security.
While Marisa went through the metal detector, I recognized Jennifer Rybak leaning against a wall and speaking to someone I could not see just around the corner. Even from behind, she looked attractive with her straight blond hair hanging halfway down the back of a rose-colored dress. She must have changed her clothes after staying at my house last night. As I waited for Marisa to collect her belongings, I stood some distance behind Jennifer and strained to listen to her conversation.
The voice of a man around the corner said, “The other lawyer seems to be doing most of the talking. Your new boyfriend doesn’t speak in court anywhere near as much.”
Jennifer replied, “I’m sure he’ll say more when it’s his turn, Yulian. Like you always say, ‘in quiet lagoons.’ We’ll see how it goes in the end.”
Marisa approached me from behind and placed her hand on the back of my arm. “I’m ready.”
“Okay,” I replied, instantly reminded that the hand touching my arm might have murdered Richard Kostas. “Just go into the courtroom and wait for me at the trial table, all right?”
“Yeah, okay,” Marisa said, apparently disappointed that I was sending her into the courtroom alone.
“I won’t be long. I promise.”
“All right,” she replied hesitantly and walked off.
A bit surprised, Jennifer turned around as I approached her to say hello. The man called Yulian abruptly stepped around the corner, walked past the deputies, and
