Then, as soon as I arrived at work, it all started to go downhill. The police were already there, those same two detectives. They came to ask me more questions, which I understood as if I were being interrogated. I told them I would not answer any more questions without an attorney present, and that is when things escalated. As always, they tried the old game of “if you have nothing to hide, why do you need a lawyer,” but I saw right through that and saw them out.
Still, one thing is clear. I am the main suspect in this case, because Morris told them that he believed he heard my voice, although his eyes were covered the entire time. According to Hank, that isn’t enough for them to officially accuse me of this crime, but it is close enough. They just need to find another thing, no matter how small it is, and I would be taken to court, facing thirty years in prison and losing everything I’ve ever worked for. Most importantly, I would face losing Marley.
I could survive losing my empire, all the money, all the assets, everything. Just not her. Anything but her.
“You need to understand that you can’t take this lightly,” he warns me.
I frown at him. “Does it look like I’m taking it lightly?”
I feel like punching the wall, but it won’t do any good. I have to find another outlet for my anger and frustration.
“Just keep your cool,” he continues, not paying attention to my comment. I’m not the type usually prone to explosions of anger and displeasure, but this time, I find it increasingly difficult to handle the situation, exactly because there is so much at stake.
“How do I do that?” I ask, inhaling deeply, although it takes all my conscious effort to do so.
“Go about your business as usual,” he advises me.
He’s standing by my desk, occasionally leaning his hand onto it, as if for balance.
“That’s all?” I wonder.
“Yes,” he nods. “That’s all. By doing that, you’re showing them that you have nothing to hide, as you don’t.”
“I don’t think they share that conviction,” I remind him.
“That doesn’t matter,” he assures me. “They can play the guessing game all they want, but guesses won’t take them to court. Evidence will, and there is evidence only if you actually had something to do with Morris’ kidnapping.”
“I didn’t,” I say, regardless of the fact that he didn’t really ask me. However, I felt like there was a need to make this known, loudly. Just so there isn’t any confusion in his mind about it.
“You don’t have to convince me,” he says with a slight frown, as if he’s insulted. “I’m your lawyer but also, I consider myself your friend. I’ve known you long enough to know that you aren’t capable of this.”
His words take me off guard. I was just thinking the opposite, that we aren’t really friends, but in reality, it seems that we are. Maybe that’s true but I can’t focus on that right now. We’ll have to leave that for when I’m not a suspect in the case of kidnapping my business rival.
“I’ll put my best guy on the case,” he adds.
I know who he means. He has a detective that can unearth dirt on the Pope, if necessary. Hank has been using him for decades, and the guy always delivers, without failure. If Hank will be putting him on the case, that means that whatever happened to Morris will surface, no matter what. That provides some sort of comfort, at least.
“And in the meantime, remember what I told you,” he repeats. “Don’t stir the water with anything. Just keep things normal, as usual. If they come to talk to you again, tell them that I have advised you not to speak to them unless I’m present. Got it?”
“Got it,” I nod.
“Because…” he starts, then pauses for a moment, as if he’s looking for the right words, then when he finally finds them, he continues. “I doubt things will go well if this gets to court.”
“Why?” I turn pale immediately. “I haven’t done anything.”
He releases a sigh of disapproval. “You know that sometimes, even the innocent gets locked up.”
“I have more faith in our judicial system than you do, it seems,” I point out, not really amused by this, especially because I know it’s true.
“Because you haven’t seen the stuff I’ve seen,” he reveals. “Things aren’t always black and white, although in the eyes of the law, they should be. It turns out though, that there are more gray areas than you can imagine. And all those gray areas require rules and regulations of their own, which are colored by the person who presides over them.”
“So, you’re basically telling me that if we get to court, whether or not I’ll be found guilty, depends on the judge?” I ask.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” he concludes, “but let’s not jump ahead of ourselves. We’ll take one day at a time.”
“I wanted to go see Morris,” I say.
“Why?” he frowns. He obviously doesn’t like the idea.