Something in the Way(52)

I didn't have time for this. I had to make a choice. Nothing would  happen to Manning; he hadn't done anything. I had to believe that. But  if there was even the slightest chance he might turn and look for me . .  . if he needed me to speak up, and I wasn't there . . .

"Fine." I turned to leave the kitchen. "But I'm taking your car."

"What?" She followed me upstairs. "You don't even know how to drive."

"I know enough," I said on my way into my room.

"You're such a brat," she said through the door.

I ignored her and changed into the nicest sweater and slacks I owned. I  found a pair of pumps in my mom's closet. They were a size too big, but I  put them in my purse. By the time I'd brushed out my hair and attempted  a little makeup, Tiffany was downstairs waiting by the front door.

"You'll come?" I asked.

"He's going to need a ride back anyway. Like I'd ever let you drive my car," she said, opening the front door.

She acted annoyed, but I knew my sister well enough to recognize the look in her eyes. She was just as nervous as I was.





26





Manning





Forty minutes before my arraignment, a brown-haired man in his early  forties entered the courthouse interview room and slapped a briefcase on  the table between us. "Manning Sutter?"

"That's me."

I stood to shake his hand, but he stopped me. "No time for formalities.  I'm Dexter Grimes, your public defender." He pulled out a handful of  manila file folders, put on his glasses, and rifled through them.  "Richards, Rosenblatt, Stephenson," he muttered, reading them off. "Here  we are-Sutter." He opened my file and frowned. "No, this is wrong."  Fanning them out on the table, he picked one labeled Sweeney and swapped  the contents of our files. "There we go. Sweeney was in Sutter, and  Sutter was in Sweeney. It happens."

I'd had my personal effects taken, been fingerprinted, photographed and  stood in a line-up, then held in a cell-all within seventy-two hours.  All as an innocent man. I'd been told I'd meet my lawyer before my  arraignment. This was the one I'd been assigned. Upon closer inspection,  I decided he was mid-thirties with deep lines around his eyes. He  looked as if he'd been through the grinder. There was a mayonnaise stain  on his lapel, or at least I hoped that's what it was.

I stared at him until he cleared his throat. "We're a little overloaded," he said.

"No shit."

"But don't worry." His glasses slid down his nose. "I've done this a thousand times."

In my experience, having done something a lot didn't necessarily mean  you were good at it. But he was all I had, and at least when he talked  to me, he looked me in the eye. I placed my forearms on the table. "I'm  innocent."

"Of course." He sat back in his seat, looking over my slim paperwork. "Do you know how arraignments work?"

"Not really."

"It's going to be fast. The judge'll read the charges, you'll plead ‘not  guilty,' and they'll set bail. You have anyone to post your bail?"

I had nobody, period. Even if my mom had the money, I'd rather sit in  jail than crawl back to her. My aunt and Henry, the officer who'd looked  out for me as a teen, had done enough for me in one lifetime. "No."

"We can go to a bondsman. Depending on the amount, they'll front you the money and take a percentage."

The money I'd saved over the years was a small sum by most standards,  but it was all I had. I'd worked hard for it. "I'm not paying anyone  anything for a crime I didn't commit."

"Okay." He made a couple notes. "So Friday night, you were pulled over."

"No. My truck stalled, so I pulled it over. The cop stopped to check on me."

"Says here he suspected you were drinking."

"No. I walked in a straight line for him and then we had a nice, friendly chat."

Grimes looked up. "Did he administer a Breathalyzer test on you?"

"I wasn't drinking."

"That wasn't my question."                       
       
           



       

"No, he didn't."

"Then that's irrelevant. It's your word against his."

The officer and I had hit it off; there was no reason for him not to believe me. I opened my mouth to explain.

Grimes checked his watch. "Your charge is attempted robbery. A felony."

"It doesn't much matter what it is, because I didn't do it."

"It does matter."

"I didn't go in anyone's house. I don't even know which house it was.  Look, all you need to do is tell whoever needs to know that there's some  kind of mix-up so I can go home. I work under contract. Every hour I'm  in here is lost wages."

"I understand, Mr. Sutter. I'm moving as quickly as possible." He darted  his eyes over the page in front of him. "This officer says he saw you  just before one."

"I guess."

"Witnesses have you leaving Phil's around ten-thirty. Neighbors spot you  driving in the dark around eleven. What happened between eleven and  one?"

"I went for a drive. Then when I got close to camp, my car stalled."

"So for almost two hours, you sat on the side of the road, waiting for a jump?"

"Yeah, so fucking what? I drove around a while before that."

Grimes closed the file with a sigh. "Look, Mr.-"

"Manning," I said. "I'm not mister anything."

"Manning, I'm on your side. Anything you tell me is confidential. I can't win this if you don't work with me."

I ran my hands over my face and looked up at the ceiling. "There's nothing to win. I didn't do it."

"I've got news for you, Manning, and you aren't going to like it. Your  case doesn't look great. The residents of that ritzy suburb want someone  to go down for this, so the prosecutor will try to wrap this up as soon  as possible. You're the strongest suspect, and far as I can tell, you  move from job to job and don't come from the best background."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"You're suspicious. I'm sorry." He took off his glasses and set them on  the paperwork. "If you don't tell me where you were, if nobody can vouch  for you, then the police are going to think you're hiding something.  They want guys like you to be guilty so they can close it and move on.  Give me something to work with. Otherwise, guilty or not, there's a  chance you'll go away for this."

I lowered my chin, meeting his eye. Under the table, my knee bounced up  and down. I wasn't naïve, not even when it came to the criminal justice  system. It'd done right by me in the past, but I came from a line of bad  men. Maybe based on that alone, I should be put away. Before I really  did hurt someone the way my dad had. For fuck's sake, I'd almost taken  advantage of Lake that night. Maybe I deserved this, but either way,  being charged with a crime I didn't commit seemed like a cruel joke.

I'd already given Grimes my story, though. At least what I was willing  to share. I opened my hands on the table. "I got nothing, man."

Grimes nodded slowly, studying me. After a few seconds, he peeked in the file and back at me. "Who's Lake Kaplan?"

Time as I knew it came to a screeching halt. The air in the room  evaporated, fluorescent overhead lights became blinding. Lake was  off-limits. Period. How the fuck had he even gotten her name? My hands  twitched with the urge to grab Dexter by his mayo-stained lapels.

"I take it by your silence you recognize the name," he said.

"Where'd you hear it?"

"She left a message with my office a few hours ago." He opened and  closed the arms of his glasses. If he was preparing to gloat, he didn't  seem happy about it. "I called back, but nobody answered. The machine  belongs to a family."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Goddamn stubborn Lake. I knew she'd try to help, but  I'd hoped the threat of making things worse would be enough to stop her.  The thought that Mr. Kaplan could've picked up the phone made me sweat.  I wiped my palms on my scrubs. "Please don't tell me you left a  message."

"Lake mentioned it was sensitive, so I didn't. She sounded young,  Manning. So now I have to ask why a young girl has information I need."

I looked at the table. "She's nobody. My girlfriend's little sister."

"How little?"

"Sixteen."

"I see." He proceeded slowly, as if deliberating over his words. "What's her involvement?"

For what felt like the hundredth time in three days, Lake's face came to  mind, her big, blue, gullible eyes, the way her chin ended in a point,  like a heart. She'd looked terrified when I'd last seen her. Then hurt  when I'd dismissed her to get Tiffany. Making her feel like a kid was  the only way I could get her to leave.