In the end, the judge pronounced the amount to be two hundred thousand dollars, plus the condition that Rob stay away from all premises of the First Malden Bank.
“But frankly,” the judge said, “I’m surprised this case is even going to trial. Has every effort been made to settle this matter?”
“It has, your Honor, with no success,” Giordano said.
Rob leaned in to whisper again. “Why is he surprised?”
“That’s his not-so-subtle way of wondering out loud if I’ve done my job,” Pettigrew whispered back. “The evidence seems cut and dried to him. He figures we should have worked a deal and pled guilty.”
Lesley, of all people, should have been prepared for the crush of microphones and video camera lights that greeted her and the rest of Rob’s entourage when they stepped out of the courtroom after Rob’s hearing. After all, she often joined the throngs of reporters trying to catch the words of some local notable on their way into or out of court. The first query was aimed at Rob’s lawyer.
“Can you comment on the charges against your client?”
“No comment,” Pettigrew said.
Sensing a brick wall, the microphones swung immediately in Lesley’s direction.
“Has your boyfriend said anything to you about the charges against him?”
Lesley recognized the reporter asking the question; she worked for one of the local newspapers. Lesley couldn’t remember which one.
Pettigrew turned to Lesley. “For Rob’s sake,” he said, “I’d advise you not to say anything.”
Lesley looked back at the earnest faces of the reporters and thought of how recently she had been one of them. The experience was certainly different on this side of the microphone. She felt exposed and fragile.
“Why don’t we all go in there,” Pettigrew said, pointing to a doorway a short distance down the hall. “We can talk for a minute.”
The lawyer led the way, followed by the Donovans, Stan Dysart, Lesley, her mother and Tim. The door led into a plain room with a medium-sized wooden table and a few straight-backed wooden chairs. Rose and Tim hung back in the hallway. Once everyone else was in, Pettigrew shut the door on the hubbub in the hallway and addressed Owen Donovan.
“I assume Rob will require some assistance raising the bail money. I can recommend a bail bondsman. ”
“We’ll find a way,” Owen said, “even if it means putting up our house.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Dysart said. “I’ll put up the bail.”
Lesley stared at her uncle in disbelief.
“That’s … well … you don’t need to do that,” Owen said.
“Rob is my employee and my friend,” Dysart said, “not to mention Lesley’s fiancé. The least I can do is make sure he doesn’t have to stay in jail any longer than is absolutely necessary. I’m sure you could handle it without me, but I can make the money appear quickly and easily.”
“Still,” Owen said, “given the circumstances, what they’re saying Rob did to you.”
Dysart made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “Innocent until proven guilty, right?” He looked at Pettigrew. “How soon can Rob be released?”
“If you can write a check, I can have bail processing start right away. It shouldn’t take long.”
Dysart pulled out his checkbook and before long the group was ready to brave the media gauntlet again.
A couple of hours later Rob and Lesley sat on a bench by the Charles River Basin while seagulls wheeled lazily overhead. Pigeons squabbled and searched the paved walkway for tidbits.
The late-morning sun struggled to provide the heat it would so easily dispense during the afternoon. Lesley hugged herself to stay warm but Rob knew this was not the right moment to slide over and put an arm around her. The walk from the courthouse had been a silent affair.
Rob had never truly understood what freedom meant before. The on-again, off-again breeze felt fresher on his face than he could ever remember. The walkway stretched off into the distance along the river and he was free to walk the entire length of it if that was what he felt like doing. He could choose. No bars or guards prevented him from standing up and walking off. The simple fact of it was intoxicating.
He looked to his right, toward where the Charles River met the Atlantic. He pictured himself on the water, rowing. Long, effortless strokes that propelled him further and further east with each pull. Spray from the bow splashed on his back, soaking him, cleansing him. Freeing him. He could just keep going, never look back.
Or a quick plane ride. But to where? South America, maybe. Which countries had extradition treaties?
Right. As if.
No, in two short months he had to go back in a courtroom and face the possibility — the strong possibility it seemed — of going to prison. He felt a cold shiver shake his shoulders and run down his back.
Lesley interrupted his thoughts. “It was nice of your parents to give Mom a lift back to my place.”
“They’re heading back home to Worcester, and it was right on their way.” Rob shrugged. “And I think they could tell we wanted to be alone.”
She took a deep, raggedy breath.
“This is a nightmare,” she said without looking at him. “The whole thing. The engagement, Uncle Stan, the mess at the TV station. Even my mother. It feels like the whole world exploded and the pieces landed on us.”
“What’s wrong with your mother?”
“She’s upset,” Lesley said. “Doesn’t want me to get hurt.”
Rob felt himself deflate even more. “And she thinks I’m some big criminal.”
Lesley didn’t deny it, which was answer enough.
“Figures,” he said.
The hardening of Lesley’s jaw and the sharp flash of her eyes should have been a warning to Rob of what was to come. He was in no mood to read the signs, though, even those the size of billboards.
“It really ticks me off that everybody assumes the police are right about me,” he said. “This is hard enough without people jumping to conclusions.”
“Don’t lay your problems on her. She didn’t cause them.”
Rob scowled at her. “Oh, and I did, right?”
Her nostrils flared as she returned his glare. “You think this is easy for me?” she said. “I feel like I’m being ripped apart by chains pulling in ten different directions.”
“You’re not the one they want to throw in prison.”
“No? Yesterday the FBI accused me of being an accomplice. They asked about Monday night. Wanted to know if you used your computer while I was in the bathroom or if I helped you do it.”
Rob’s temples started to throb. “I didn’t go near the computer.”
“Somebody did, and nobody else was there.”
Rob leaned his head back, grabbed his hair with both hands and shouted at the sky.
“Great. This is just … perfect.”
A tiny dog happened to be walking by. It jumped and skittered away at the sound of Rob’s outburst. The elderly lady holding the leash quickened her pace and scuttled away, looking back at them over her shoulder.
Lesley crossed her arms and legs and looked away. Her foot started pumping in agitation.
“Do you think I’d create all these headaches on purpose?” Rob said. “Is that who you think I am?”
“No, but—”
“But what? But the FBI has a fingerprint. That should be enough to wipe out everything we’ve been through together, shouldn’t it?”
She turned her head away from him. He could see her jaw working from side to side in tiny, jerky movements.
“If I really did want to mess with the bank’s computers,” he said, “why would I be stupid enough to leave behind all that evidence pointing at myself?”
Rob felt the hurt sting his eyes when she didn’t respond. He stood up abruptly, took a few steps, and stood with his back to her, arms crossed, looking toward the water but not seeing. A vast emptiness seemed to open up in his gut.