“He says he didn’t.”
“I hope that’s true.”
Lesley sighed. “You and me both.”
“Look, I know this must be grinding you up. I just called to say if you ever need someone to talk to or anything, give me a call. I’ll be glad to help any way I can.”
That brought a sad smile to Lesley’s face.
“Thanks, that’s sweet of you.”
A knock sounded on the door to Lesley’s apartment.
“I should let you go,” Lesley said. “Someone’s at my door.”
“You’ll keep me up to date on how Rob’s making out?”
“For sure.”
Lesley hung up and walked to the door. She felt a little better after Tim’s call, knowing someone cared enough to check on her.
Half expecting to see Shayna, she opened the door. When she saw who it was, she was so surprised she could only stare.
The officer delivered Rob to the interview room and then withdrew, closing the door as she went out. Rob was left looking at a man so black he positively shone. The guy appeared to be in his mid-thirties, stood a few inches over six feet, was completely bald and wore a gray suit and polished shoes.
“Neal Pettigrew,” the man said, extending his hand. His voice was deep and resonant. “I’m an attorney. Your father hired me to represent you.”
Other than having his fingerprints taken and being moved forcibly along by the arm, the firm handshake was Rob’s first physical contact with another human being since the arrest. Rob felt a spark of hope, the first of the day. Surely now the madness would end.
“You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” Rob said.
“Let’s sit down,” Pettigrew said, indicating the wooden table.
When they were seated, Rob said, “This is all a big mistake. I hope you can help clear it up.”
“That’s what I get paid for, but I need you to do your part too, so first we need to set some ground rules.”
“Sure. Anything.”
“It’s my job to speak on your behalf, so from this point forward you don’t talk to anyone about your case unless I’m present. Understood?”
Rob nodded.
“That includes the police, friends and family, other prisoners and especially not the media. This is turning into a high-profile case, which is bad for you. Every time your picture appears on TV or in a newspaper you become more closely associated with the crime in the minds of all those potential jurors out there.”
Pettigrew underscored his points with small jabs of an expensive-looking pen. His gold cuff link flashed as he did so.
“I’ve been on TV?” Rob asked.
“The FBI released a statement this morning concerning your arrest. You’ve become big news.”
The revelation made Rob feel even more out of touch. The world was moving on without him.
“It’s not only the media,” Pettigrew continued. “Your boss at the bank — a Mr. Dysart — phoned me not long after I talked to your father. Dysart seems to be well connected, because shortly after that both the FBI and the U.S. Attorney’s office called.”
“That’s Stan all right. He swims with the big sharks.”
“Stan being Mr. Dysart?”
“Yes.”
“They were all anxious to tell me about the evidence they’ve gathered,” Pettigrew said. “That’s unusual. I’m entitled to see what they’ve got but they normally hold it back until the rules say they have to show it to me. Apparently they’re in a hurry to obtain some information from you.”
“The keyword,” Rob said. “I don’t have it.”
Pettigrew pursed his lips and nodded.
Rob sighed. “I had nothing to do with what happened at the bank. I’ve told this to the FBI and to Stan but nobody will listen.”
“Okay, I hear you. Now here’s a couple of things you have to understand. First, every client tells me they’re innocent. That’s how the game is played. Second, your actual guilt or innocence is irrelevant to the legal process. The only currency that matters here is evidence.”
“I’ve had all morning to sit around and think about the evidence,” Rob said. He hesitated, knowing he was going to sound paranoid. “The stuff they found in my apartment couldn’t have just shown up by accident. Someone must have planted it.”
“Do you know who that someone might be?” Pettigrew asked.
“No idea,” Rob said.
“Then we’ll have to address that question at a more appropriate time. For now we need to prepare for the arraignment tomorrow morning.”
“You mean I’m not getting out of here today?” Rob asked.
“You might not even be released tomorrow. That depends on whether we can convince the judge to give you bail. It helps that you’re a first-time offender, but the prosecutor might argue it’s crucial to keep you in custody until the bank is no longer incurring damages.”
Rob was tempted to inform Pettigrew that he was no “offender” but decided to let it slide. After all, the guy was trying to help. The prospect of even one more night in jail depressed him.
“We should talk about the possibility of a plea bargain,” Pettigrew said.
“No way.”
“I won’t lie to you Rob. They have a strong case with plenty of physical evidence. The system penalizes people who gamble with a trial and lose. You almost always get a better deal if you make it early in the process.”
“But if I didn’t do anything wrong, how could they prove I did?”
“They don’t have to prove it. They only have to convince a jury.”
“And you think they can.”
“I didn’t say that,” Pettigrew said. “I’m just pointing out your options. You should consider the fact that the evidence is strong.”
Rob clenched his jaw and glared at his lawyer.
“You think I did it, don’t you?”
“That’s not important,” Pettigrew said.
“It is to me,” Rob shouted.
Pettigrew didn’t seem fazed by the outburst.
“The courts are beginning to treat computer crimes as very serious indeed,” he said. “If you elect to go to trial and are convicted, you could be facing ten years in prison, or even more. The Assistant U.S. Attorney hinted that with a plea bargain you would probably be looking at something closer to two years, which would mean you could be out in a year.”
Rob swallowed dryly. After one night in jail, a year sounded like an eternity. And who would ever trust him to work as a computer professional again? Then there was Lesley — but he didn’t even want to go there. The whole concept of pleading guilty was inconceivable.
“Of course,” Pettigrew said, “any deal depends on you giving up the keyword.”
The twisted ball of tension in Rob’s gut settled in for a long stay.
Rose McGrath was about the same size and build as her daughter, although age had added a few lines to her face and a few pounds to her petite frame. Rose’s brunette hair was shorter and straighter than Lesley’s. She gave her daughter a tentative smile.
“Gee, I thought you’d be glad to see me,” Rose said.
“Oh, Mom,” Lesley said, “of course I am.”
Lesley gave her mother a big hug. Rose stepped into the apartment and Lesley closed the door.
“I was going to call you,” Lesley said, “but I didn’t know what to say.”
“Sheila called me first thing this morning, said you were still sleeping. I was so worried I had to come right away.”
Leo trotted over to investigate the newcomer and busied himself with the sneakers Rose took off. He had to teach the laces who was the boss.
Lesley held up her ring hand. A look of astonishment spread across Rose’s face. She reached out to hold Lesley’s hand, looked slowly up into Lesley’s face, then back down at the ring.