“I’ll call you when I land,” he says as he hangs up. I squeeze my phone in my hand and grunt. People stare, but it doesn’t bother me. I have no doubt they can see how angry I am. Someday I want to grow up and be like Elijah. Be someone who doesn’t care about anyone, bosses people around, and has my demands met. Best of all, what would it be like to go through life and not have a care in the world? It must take a lot of brass balls to be someone like that.
Instead of heading to work, I take the train to Irvin Abbott’s office. He wants to meet and go over Travis’s case. Technically, I don’t have to be there, and under the circumstances, I wish I weren’t. My job is to make Travis look good, to remind the community of the man he is when they need him the most. As much as I loved studying law, Elijah ruined that for me.
Abbott and Abbott is a family-run business with an impressive client list. They represent mostly actors, politicians, and athletes. The receptionist greets me by name when I walk in and tells me that Irvin is going to meet me in conference room 3. I’ve been here enough times to know where the conference rooms are and easily make my way to our meeting point.
I’m the first one to arrive, and that affords me the opportunity to decompress. I’m still reeling from my phone call earlier, and knowing that Elijah is coming to Boston has me on edge. Never mind the fact that it’s close to Christmas break for Lucy, and I have a feeling he’s going to ask to take her back to Virginia for a visit. The answer, of course, would be no, but he knows I don’t have the money to fight him in court.
Irvin walks in with nothing more than a folder and laptop in his hand. Usually, his arms are stacked with books and he’s trying to balance a cup of coffee.
“I see you’re missing a few files,” I say in greeting.
“Yeah,” he says, looking flustered. “This is something new the office is trying. You know, to go green.” By the look on his face, he doesn’t seem too impressed. I happen to agree with the initiative but would find it hard to go paperless if I were practicing law.
“So what can I do for you today, Mr. Abbott?” Over the years, he’s asked me to call him Irvin.
He waves his hand, as if dismissing my comment. “Please, call me Irvin. Mr. Abbott is my father. Word from the DA’s office is that the rape kit is coming back today, and they’ll subpoena Travis for a DNA sample,” he says, sighing. “We’ll comply, but I want to make sure that the media sees him going in, and have him answer a few questions as he walks by the reporters.”
I look at him questioningly, wondering why he’d subject Travis to something like this. “I’ll bite. Tell me why, because I’m not so sure this is in his best interests.”
Irvin opens the folder and slides a single sheet of paper over to me. It’s a list, numbered one through twenty, starting with Jane Doe 1. My hand covers my mouth as my eyes scan over each entry.
“Surely this can’t be serious.”
“I’m afraid so, and each story is worse than the previous. The DA hasn’t given me the names yet, but he’ll have to if he arrests Travis. I have a feeling he’s building a case, and if he can’t nail Travis on the first charge, he has nineteen others waiting in the wings.”
The list makes my stomach revolt, and I excuse myself to the b
athroom. Inside, I wait for the contents of my breakfast, the one Travis had delivered for us, to come back up, but it never happens. The bathroom is quiet, and I use the peacefulness to look at myself in the mirror. My fingers trace over my lips, remembering the way he kissed me yesterday, and last night. My eyes close as I recall the way he held me and fell asleep with his arm wrapped around me. I’ve told him no, repeatedly, and he hasn’t forced himself on me. I had him in my home, sleeping on my couch, and he didn’t do anything to make me feel uncomfortable.
I could clear his name of the first allegation, but not the others. And one may not be enough to make this all go away.
When I get back to the conference room, Travis is there. His head is downcast, and when he looks up at me, his eyes are bloodshot. This is not the man who left my house hours ago.
“Sorry about that,” I say, taking my seat, and thankful that Travis is across from me. “When do you expect him to be subpoenaed?”
“Tomorrow. Knowing the DA, he’ll hold a press conference first thing in the morning while the police go to pick up Travis.” The thought of Travis being escorted out of his house by police sickens me.
“What if we beat them to the punch?”
“What do you mean?” Irvin asks.
“Travis voluntarily gives his DNA. We’ll hold a press conference at the clinic, where he publicly tells everyone that he’s not guilty and is going to prove it.”
I look to both Irvin and Travis for their approval. It’s risky, but the preemptive strike by Travis will show everyone that he has nothing to hide.
“I’ll do it,” Travis says. “I’ve been waiting to tell my side of the story.”
“You won’t say anything that isn’t scripted,” I tell him. “This has to be straight and to the point, no questions. And you know what, we’ll do it at the station where you went in for questioning. The media will have a field day with this. No one ever voluntarily gives DNA.”
“It’s risky,” Irvin says.
“The only risk is if Travis raped the accuser. He says he didn’t, and I believe him. These other women, unless they had rape kits done, won’t have his DNA, and the evidence will be unsubstantiated.”
Irvin stands and paces the room. Each pass by, he huffs, as if this is his way of contemplating. I try not to stare at Travis, but his eyes are boring into mine. Gone is the sweet man who entertained my five-year-old this morning, and in his place is a man who is watching his life slip away. I may not be able to come clean about what I know, but I can do this. I can bring him in front of the camera and show the world that he’s not the monster the state’s attorney is making him out to be.
“You’ll stay on script?” Irvin asks Travis, who nods eagerly. “I don’t like it, but it’s better than the police showing up at his door.”
“Great, I’ll get to work.”