graves or digging. Nothing. They brought in dogs. Nothing. They spoke to neighbors, some of whom 'never trusted that family' but most gave the standard 'seemed like nice folk, real quiet neighbors' spiel.
Edwin Gibbs had been taken into custody. They tried to question him at the Bernardsville Police Station, but he wasn't talking. Clara Steinberg became his attorney. She stayed with him. So did Stan. They pleaded with Edwin, Myron guessed, but so far, he hadn't talked.
Back at the farmhouse, the wind picked up. Myron's bad knee ached, each step giving him a fresh jolt of pain. The pain was unpredictable, arriving whenever it damn well pleased, staying on like the most unwelcome houseguest. There was no side benefit to the knee pain, no weather forecasting or anything like that. Some days it just ached. Nothing he could do about it. He approached Emily and put his arm around her.
'He's still out there,' Emily said to the dark.
Myron said nothing.
'He's all alone. And it's night. And he's probably scared.'
'We'll find him, Em.'
'Myron?'
'Hmm.'
'Is this more payback for that night?'
Another search party returned, their shoulders slumped in resignation, if not defeat. Odd thing, these search parties. You wanted to find something, yet you didn't want to find something.
'No,' Myron said. 'I think you were right. I think our mistake was the best thing that could have happened. And maybe there's a price to pay to have something so good.'
She closed her eyes, but she did not cry. Myron stayed next to her. The wind howled, scattering the surrounding voices like dead leaves, whipping branches, and whispering in your ear like the most frightening lover.
Chapter 37
Myron and Win looked through the oneway glass at Clara Steinberg's back and the faces of Stan and Edwin Gibbs. Kimberly Green stood with them. So did Eric Ford. Emily had gone to the hospital to sit vigil while Greg was in surgery. No one seemed to know if he'd make it.
'Why aren't you listening in?' Myron asked.
'Can't,' Ford replied. 'Attorney-client.'
'How long they been at it?'
'On and off since we took him into custody.'
Myron checked the clock behind his head. Nearly three in the morning. Evidence collection teams had leveled the house, but still no clue where Jeremy was. Fatigue lined everyone's face, except maybe Win's. Fatigue never registered on his face. Win must internalize it. Or maybe it had something to do with having little to no conscience.
'We don't have time for this,' Myron said.
'I know,' Eric Ford said. 'It's been a long night for all of us.'
'Do something.'
'Like what?' Ford snapped. 'What exactly would you like me to do?'
Win picked up that one. 'Perhaps you could speak to Ms. Steinberg in private.'
That hooked Ford's attention. 'What?'
'Take her into another room,' Win said, 'and leave me alone with your suspect.'
Eric Ford looked at him. 'You shouldn't even be here. He' — a gesture toward Myron—'represents the Downing family, as much as I don't like it. But you got no reason to be here.'
'Make a reason,' Win said.
Eric Ford waved his hand as if this wasn't worth his time.
Win kept the voice at a low, soothing level. 'You don't have to be a part of it,' he said. 'Simply talk to his attorney. Leave Gibbs alone in the room. That's all. Nothing unethical about that.'
Ford shook his head. 'You're crazy.'
'We need answers,' Win said.
'And you want to beat them out of him.'
'Beating leaves marks,' Win said. 'I never leave marks.'
'That's not how it works, pal. Ever heard of the U.S. Constitution?'
'It's a document,' Win said, 'not a trump card. You have a choice. The obscure rights of that subhuman' — Win gestured through the glass—'or a young boy's right to live.'
Ford leaned his forehead against the glass.
'If the boy dies while we're standing here,' Win said, 'how will you feel then?'
Ford shut his eyes. In the holding room, Clara Steinberg rose from her chair. She turned, and for the first time, Myron saw her face. He knew that she had represented bad people before — very, very bad people — but whatever horrors she was now hearing had washed away her skin tone and etched in something that would probably never leave. She approached the one-way mirror and knocked. Ford hit the sound switch.
'We need to talk,' she said. 'Let me out.'
Eric Ford met Clara and Stan by the door. 'Let's head down this way,' he said.
'No,' Clara said.
'Pardon me?'
'We'll talk in here,' she said, 'where I can watch my client. Wouldn't want an accident, now, would we?'
There were no chairs so they all stood by the oneway window — Kimberly Green, Eric Ford, Clara Steinberg, Stan Gibbs, Myron and Win. Stan kept his head down and plucked at his lower lip with his fingers. Myron tried to meet his eyes. Stan never gave him the chance.
'Okay,' Clara said. 'First off, we need a D.A.'
'What for?' Eric Ford asked.
'Because we want a deal.'
Ford tried to snicker. 'Are you out of your mind?'
'No. My client is the only one who can tell you where Jeremy Downing is. He'll only do so under specific conditions.'
'What conditions?'
'That's why we need a D.A.'
'A D.A. will back whatever I agree to,' Eric Ford said.
'I'll still want it in writing.'
'And I want to hear what you're looking for here.'
'Okay,' Clara said, 'here's the deal. We help you find Jeremy Downing. In exchange, you guarantee not to seek the death penalty for Edwin Gibbs. You also agree to psychiatric tests. You then recommend he be placed in a proper mental health facility, not a prison.'
'You have to be kidding me.'
'There's more,' Clara said.
'More?'
'Mr. Edwin Gibbs will also agree to donate bone marrow to Jeremy Downing if the need arises. I understand that Mr. Bolitar is representing the family here. For the record, we should note that he is present as a witness to this agreement.'
No one said anything.
'So we clear?' Clara said.
'No,' Ford said, 'we're not.'
Clara adjusted her eyeglasses. 'This deal is nonnego-tiable.' She turned to leave, her gaze snagging on Myron's. Myron just shook his head.
'I'm his attorney,' she said to him.
