office as soon as possible. I can only assume that the police have uncovered more evidence damaging to Oscar, but there's no sense asking the assistant. Dylan takes center stage whenever he can; if there's a bomb to drop on me, he will drop it personally.
I'm ushered into Dylan's office as soon as I arrive, another sign that he's got something to use on me. It's more often his style to make visitors stew in the reception area, but this time he can't wait to get right to it.
Also in Dylan's office waiting for me is Lieutenant Nick Sabonis, the lead detective on Oscar's case. If he shares Dylan's glee at what is about to be said, he hides it well. Nick's a career cop nearing the day when his biggest concern will be what fishing rod to use. He doesn't get into personal stuff with lawyers; he just wants to lock up the bad guys and move on to the next case.
'Thanks for coming down so quickly, Andy,' Dylan says. 'New evidence has turned up concerning your client.'
I just wait for him to continue; coaxing him to hurry up would give him a satisfaction I don't want to provide.
'We got a call from a Wallace Ferro, the manager at the Food Fair supermarket on Riverside. It turns out that there's a tape of Garcia in the store at the exact time that the coroner says the murder was committed.'
I'm pleased but puzzled. 'I asked him about the tapes.'
Dylan nods, a slight smirk on his face. 'According to him, you didn't ask too hard. This was a tape above the cash machines at the bank branch in the market. It's a different system, and they don't tape over them for months. For some reason he thought we'd be more interested in it than you would.'
Little of what Dylan is saying makes sense, but I'm not really concerned. No matter what Wally the grocery manager thinks of my investigative techniques, my client is about to be freed and so am I. I'm out of the case and clear of conscience. I can go back to saving otters.
'Does Oscar know about this?' I ask.
'He does. He's been released, and he's agreed to voluntarily answer some questions.'
Alarm bells go off in my head. 'What kind of questions? Why wasn't I informed?'
'Don't worry, Andy, Oscar waived his right to counsel.' He smiles. 'Especially your counsel.'
'What the hell is going on, Dylan? What are you questioning Oscar about?'
My sense of foreboding increases when Nick, not having said a word, walks out of the office. My sense is that while he may be on the same side as Dylan, he doesn't want to associate himself with this performance.
Dylan doesn't even seem to notice him leave. He is taking his time, savoring the moment. 'We've made another arrest in the case, Andy. We believe Oscar has information to provide in connection with that arrest.'
'Who did you arrest?' I ask, knowing that this is the reason Dylan called me here, and knowing with even greater certainty that I'm going to hate the answer.
'I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you this,' he lies, 'but we've arrested and charged Laurie Collins with the murder of Alex Dorsey.'
THE PRESS IS OUT IN FORCE BY THE TIME I GET TO the jail. When it was Oscar Garcia that stood accused, it was a marginal story. When it's Laurie Collins, ex-cop and sworn enemy of the deceased, it's page one all the way.
I work my way through the reporters and camera crews, making comments as I go. I don't usually like to speak to the press until I know the facts, so I say only what I know to be true.
'What's your reaction to the arrest?' I'm asked.
'It's beyond idiotic,' I respond.
'Are you going to defend her?'
'The facts will defend her,' I say. 'I'll just make sure everybody knows them.'
I get inside the jail and ask to see Laurie. The bozo at the front desk tells me that she's being 'processed.' I know she's smart enough not to talk to anyone without me present, but I don't like the fact that she's alone. After five minutes of waiting, I tell him I'm going to go outside and tell the press I'm being denied access to my client. Coincidentally, at that very moment he receives a telepathic communication informing him that the processing just ended.
I'm led back to an anteroom where I wait for another five minutes, until Laurie is brought in. Her hands are cuffed in front of her, and she is already dressed in jail clothing. I expect to see fear in her eyes, but that's not what is there. What I see is anger. Which is good, because I've got enough fear for both of us.
'Andy, what the hell is going on?'
'I don't know,' I say. 'I haven't tried to press anyone for information yet. I wanted to talk to you first.'
'They've charged me with Dorsey's murder,' she says, total disbelief in her voice.
I nod. 'Tell me what happened. Don't leave out a thing.'
She sits down, resting her cuffed hands uncomfortably on the table. The cuffs are so offensive to me, I want to bite them off with my teeth.
'There isn't that much to tell,' she says. 'I went out to the stadium, like you said. It took a little while, but I finally noticed something in the shrubbery. I went over and looked at it, but I didn't touch it. It looked like clothing with blood on it. Then I saw the handle of a large knife, as if somebody had tried to cover it with the shrubs.'
'What did you do?'
'I didn't do anything. Ten seconds after I saw the stuff, officers seemed to come from everywhere. There must have been seven or eight of them, guns drawn. They read me my rights and brought me down here.'
'Do you think they had been following you, or waiting at the site?'
She shakes her head. 'I don't know, maybe both. There were a lot of them.' She shakes her head again, this time with more sadness. 'It was weird; I helped train two or three of them.'
I'm silent for a few moments, trying to figure this out. None of these pieces fit together.
'Andy, why did you send me out there?' It's not an accusation, just a need to know.
'I had information that the killer's clothes might be there. I figured that if they were, it would get Oscar off the hook. It should do the same for you.'
Laurie speaks quietly, and for the first time I can hear the fear overtaking the anger. 'Andy, they were my clothes.'
She can't have said what I think she said. 'What?'
'The clothes with blood on them … they were mine. I don't know how they got there … I never even noticed them missing from my closet.'
In a flash that feels exactly like panic, I realize that this is the worst of both worlds. We are facing a situation that makes absolutely no sense, yet clearly has been planned and executed with precision.
'Laurie, we will get through this.'
'And where will I be while we're doing that?' she asks.
She's talking about the possibility of bail, which I started thinking about on the way over here. It's very problematic. Oscar was charged with first-degree murder, and there's no doubt that the same will be the case with Laurie. It's very difficult to get bail in that circumstance, and I can certainly count on Dylan to oppose it.
'Bail's going to be tough,' I tell her. I don't lie to clients, and I'm certainly not going to start with Laurie.
She nods, knowing very well how the system works. 'If we don't get it, and even if we do, we need to get to trial as quickly as possible.'
'It's way too early to be talking about a trial. We're going to try and end this before we even get there.'
'I can't sit in a cage, Andy.'
I would love to tell her she won't have to, but it's not within my power. This point is driven home all too clearly when the guard comes into the room to take her back to that cage.
I tell Laurie that I'll be back to see her tomorrow, at which time I'll have learned much more about the situation, and we can talk about it in detail. I tell her again that we'll get through this, that everything is going to be fine. I tell her that I love her and that she needs to keep her spirits up.
Which brings me to the things I don't tell her. I don't tell her that they couldn't have had time to test the blood on the clothing yet, so they can't be sure it's Dorsey's blood. I don't tell her that that means there is other evidence against her, evidence that the police feel independently justifies the arrest. I don't tell her that I know in my gut there are other shoes to drop, that things are going to get worse before they can get better.
I don't tell her that every single cell in my body is scared shitless.
