Fitting, Shawn thinks, remembering the F train is the subway that runs from his condo in Cobble Hill to Micah and Lennox’s place on the Lower East Side.
Shawn clomps across the intermittent vinyl and cement floors, the sound of his footsteps bouncing off the canary yellow corridors. He enters the meeting room without any fanfare, any sense of danger or gloom. Again, he is relieved Micah is not at Riker’s Island. It wouldn’t have made sense, he reasons.
Micah is doing push-ups in the center of the space. He is wearing a fresh set of tan scrubs, this time with a white T-shirt underneath. His muscles are too large for his tee, and they flex and expand, as if trying to break free from their confinement. As he enters, Shawn can see Micah through the window, despite the giant round metal speaker in the middle of the glass.
“Micah? How’re you holding up?” Shawn asks as the correctional officer closes the door.
In one powerful, fluid motion, Micah pushes himself up to standing. “Well, I guess I’m okay.” He brushes the dirt from his hands. “I just keep to myself, kinda used to that. Everyone is leaving me alone for the most part.”
“See? I told you. But let me know if I can get the missus to talk with you. She’s the best listener I know. That’s why I married her.” Shawn sits on the metal chair in front of a long thin desk and places his open briefcase next to him.
“Shawn, you know I love Haylee, but I’ve already got a therapist. How’s it going with you? Did you find the letter in that folder?”
Micah sits down in the chair and looks up at him.
“I’m glad you asked. We have several leads. You may not like hearing this, but it seems many people had far more motive to kill Lennox than you.”
“You’re right. I don’t like hearing that.”
“That being said, we didn’t find the letter, but I bet if we find this guy Lenny was so frightened of, we have the man who killed him.”
“Jesus, you really think?”
“Yes. Problem is, this guy is good at covering his tracks, which is probably why Lennox wrote that letter. If I was a betting man, which as you know sometimes I am, I’m guessing it has some pretty incriminating stuff in it, maybe even a way to find him, I don’t know. We’re still on the hunt for it. I’m gonna comb the evidence room, and maybe talk with the prosecuting attorney and see if she remembers anything.”
“Sounds good, thank you.”
“To recap from your arraignment, they’re going after you with murder 2, manslaughter 1 and 2, and least, criminally negligent manslaughter, which technically is the only one I’m afraid might stick. I’m fairly confident we can show state-of-mind at the time and rid you of all charges. But honestly?”
“Yeah?”
“I still think Elaine is pulling the strings. And I think they’re pushing everything they have at this case, so bear with me. I’m holding a press conference in a few hours and need your permission to do so. It’s a little risky, but ethically I can hold one to offset the damage done by Detective Penance. We need to see if we can push this Ghost out of hiding.”
“The guy in the letter?”
“Yes, that’s what we’re calling him based on that sketch you drew and the pictures of the heroin bags.”
“Heroin bags?”
The correctional officer enters and whispers in Shawn’s ear. Shawn’s eyebrows lower. He looks back at Micah.
“It’s my private investigator. Called me here. Must be important. I’ll be right back.”
Shawn exits the meeting room, and the officer hands him a wireless landline.
“Hey, in a meeting with the client. What have you got?” Shawn scratches his forehead. “Can you repeat that?”
He places the phone between his shoulder and his cheek, so he can better mime a pen writing on a piece of paper in the air, hoping the officer will help him. She does not react.
“Okay, thanks, I’ll call you back when I hit the road,” Shawn says. “Find that hard drive.”
((Click.))
Shawn thanks the officer and goes back into the meeting room.
“Okay, Micah, you won’t believe this. So, remember I told you that Jenna said to check Lennox’s work hard drive for some information about a cover-up?”
“Yeah, but I thought you said that didn’t turn up anything.”
“It didn’t, according to them. I wanted my detective to check it himself because I didn’t trust the printouts and summaries the prosecution gave us. Trust me, I’ve been burned before by very, very similar instances of prosecutorial misconduct. And sure enough, I’m glad I did.”
“How so?”
“Get this. My team went to evidence to check out the actual hard drive, and it was gone. Like disappeared from the fucking police evidence room.”
“No shit? They must know who did that. Aren’t there cameras and security guards everywhere?”
“That’s the thing! No record of anyone. And the evidence room’s camera footage is gone for three days surrounding the day it disappeared. Both the original footage, and the backup on the outside server. They don’t think the camera was even working.”
“No shit,” Micah repeats.
“Yep. Gone. Missing from goddamn evidence. Not sure of who or why or how, but the fact that someone had the gall to take it means we’re onto something. Which is good news.”
“Wait. You’re talking like we’re still going, like this isn’t that big of a deal. The evidence was stolen, Shawn. Can’t the case be thrown out completely? I mean, it’s evidence about my case. That they lost!”
“Hold on a second. Hear me out. Yes, it’s the people’s duty to preserve evidence, but only certain evidence is covered by that protection. I’ve seen this before. Prosecution has a
