But now, with a body to dispose of, he’d most likely have to move some of the bulkier items around. He decided to take a break beforehand. He sat down on the steps and took a drag off his cigarette. It was clouding over, with the faint smell of rain on the wind. DeGroot savored the moment.
He had to admit, he liked it here. The area where he had grown up had been hot and dry. The scant rainfall and lack of major rivers had made drought a constant and lurking specter. But the land here was rich, webbed with creeks and small rivers. He turned them over in his mind, considering their suitability for what he had to do next. While he thought, he picked up a pair of pants from the neatly folded pile on the steps. He pulled Lundgren’s wallet from the back pocket and flipped it open. He removed the small amount of cash from it. He flipped idly through the plasticine folders one last time. Military ID, PX card, driver’s license. The wallet had produced nothing particularly useful before, and he didn’t expect anything different now.
He was, he admitted to himself, just stalling. He pulled the cards out, one by one. He’d scatter them randomly at various places away from the body. As he pulled the cards out, a small card fell from between them. DeGroot picked it up. It was a business card, a fancy one. The raised lettering read “Black, Diamond, and Healy, Attorneys and Counselors at Law.” In smaller letters beneath were printed a name and phone number.
“Tamara Healy,” he said out loud. “Now who might this be?” When he flipped the card over, he got his answer. Scrawled on the back of the card in blue ink was a note: “Talk to my lawyer. C.”
“Hmmm,” said DeGroot out loud. “I might just have to do that.” He stood up. “Okay, tjommie,” he said to the body. “Time to get back to work.”
Marie sat in the waiting room of Black, Diamond, and Healy, leafing through a magazine without actually looking at it. She wondered if Tamara Healy would make an issue out of paying her for the time already expended. She wondered how long her rapidly dwindling savings would hold out. She wondered what it was that Keller had done to piss the client off.
“Damn it, Jack,” she whispered under her breath. She had already halfway decided that she was going to drop the case after what she had found out about Carly Fedder. But when she found out that Keller had gotten them fired, the cold feeling of financial panic she had experienced made her wonder if she had ever intended to go more than halfway. Part of her didn’t like the feeling that she would continue working the case, even against her better judgment. Another part of her, fiercer and more primitive, defiantly told her that she would do anything to keep a roof over her and her son’s head.
Marie sighed. Being a cop had had its share of ambiguities and gray areas. But it had been nothing like this. As a police officer, she had been part of a community. There were people she could turn to, who could give her some feedback as to right and wrong. But she had been severed from that community forever. She knew now the way her fellow cops had turned away from her demonstrated their ethical guidance may have been suspect, to say the least. She still missed it.
Tamara Healy interrupted her reverie by breezing into the waiting room from the hallway leading back toward the offices. She clutched a sheaf of phone message slips in one hand and motioned Marie into the hallway with the other. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Marie,” she said over her shoulder as Marie followed her. “Mondays are usually kind of a zoo around here.” She led Marie into a small conference room. “Coffee?” she said. Marie shook her head no.
“So,” the lawyer said as she sat down at the head of the table. “Before we discuss this little friction between our client and Mr. Keller, tell me what you’ve found out.”
Marie took a deep breath. “You may not like it,” she said.
Healy smiled grimly. “Maybe,” she said. “But I like surprises even less. Especially when they happen to me in court.”
“Okay,” Marie said. She told Healy about her interviews with the day-care personnel. The lawyer listened without expression, asking a terse question here and there. Marie finished by saying, “I don’t know if Carly Fedder is the right person to have custody of Alyssa.”
Healy arched an eyebrow at her. “Oh?” she said. “And the better choice would be the absentee father that she barely knows? The one who barely showed an interest for the first five years of the girl’s life?” She held up her hand and stopped Marie’s answer. “We don’t get to make those choices, Marie. That’s why we have the folks in the black robes. All I do is present my client’s side. Something Dave Lundgren never gave my client…our client…a chance to do.” Marie must have still looked doubtful. Healy leaned forward, her eyes locked earnestly on Marie’s. “Think about it this way,” she said. “You used to be a cop. And a good one, from what I hear. Did you like it when people took the law into their own hands?”
“I didn’t,” Marie admitted.
Healy’s voice picked up intensity, as if she were building to the climax of a closing argument. “Well, that’s exactly what Sergeant David Lundgren did, Marie. He didn’t give the law a chance to work. He just grabbed that girl and took her away from the only home she ever knew. It may not have been perfect, but it was her home. And now she’s God knows where, with no way to know if she’s safe or not.”
“Wow,” Marie said. “You’re pretty good.”
Healy looked startled for a moment, then grinned.
“Sorry,” she said. “I get a little carried away.” She leaned back. “Anyway,” she said, “let’s move on. I had a message this morning that a couple of FBI agents dropped by, wanting to see me.”
“Did you talk to them?”
“Hell, no!” Healy said. “And you don’t, either. Anything I know is covered by attorney-client privilege. And since you work for me, so are you.”
“They’re looking for Jack…Mr. Keller, too,” Marie said. “And he thinks they’re watching my house.”
For the first time, Healy looked concerned. She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Him…I don’t know. He’s not really officially an employee. I could argue that he’s covered by privilege, but it’s not a slam dunk.”
Marie smiled wryly. “It won’t make any difference to him if he’s covered or not. If he doesn’t want to talk, he won’t. And he’s not happy with the FBI right now.”
“Still,” Healy said, “I want to cover the bases here. We’ll put him on the payroll. Special consultant or something. Ask him to call me.”
“What about the client?” Marie said. “She wants us fired.”
“Don’t worry about Carly,” Healy said. “I’ll straighten it out. But it might be better to just let me deal with the client from now on.”
Marie stood up. “Thanks,” she said.
Healy stood up as well. “I’m not just being nice,” she said. “It’s better to have you two inside the wire rather than out.”
Marie pondered that. “Thanks anyway,” she said.
Healy shook her hand. “Don’t mention it.”
It wasn’t until she was on her way out the door that Marie realized she had talked herself
