“Any news?” I ask Hank the moment he enters my office.
He looks grave as always, the same kind of plaid suit, only a different color this time. He places his briefcase on the mahogany table and takes a seat opposite me.
“I don’t have any good news… yet,” he says, hesitant.
I frown. “So, you have only bad news?”
He shakes his head in response. “I don’t have any news, which in this case is bad news. We’re on the clock here and need something to pull you out.”
I inhale deeply, remembering that Lilly told me how she was called to go to the police station to corroborate my alibi, which she said she did.
“Did your nanny speak to the police?” he asks, as if reading my mind.
“Mhm,” I confirm. “She told them exactly what I told them.”
“That’s good,” Hank murmurs to himself, brushing the tip of his chin absent-mindedly with his fingers. He usually doesn’t seem this lost. He’s much more focused. It worries me, but I try not to let it show. “I’ve spoken to my guy down at the police station…” he continues.
Hank has a guy everywhere, which is good. But at the same time, it depends how good the guy actually is. Can he get us what we need? In this case, I believed that I wouldn’t need anyone to prove my innocence for me. I thought my word would be enough, that proving my alibi to be correct would be enough, but it’s not.
“He tells me that they might have someone who is willing to go undercover,” Hank reveals.
“Undercover?” My eyebrows knit in frustration.
“Yes,” Hank confirms with a soft nod of the head.
Everything about this conversation feels vexing. I just want to go down there to the station and grab whoever the hell is in charge there by the throat and tell him to stop wasting time on trying to pin crimes on innocent people, but I know that will only make me look even more guilty.
“So, be careful when meeting new people these days,” he advises me.
“You think that someone might be a stranger?” I wonder. “That would be good. I’m not very welcoming with strangers, you know this.”
“I know,” Hank agrees. He smiles barely noticeably, then his face reverts to his usual grave expression, which has won him almost every single case in the courtroom. “But you should also bear in mind that it’s possible that it might be someone you already know, maybe a business partner or someone you’ve met recently. I doubt they would approach someone close to you with such an offer, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful these days.”
“Got it,” I nod.
“Just keep doing what you’ve been doing so far,” he continues. “If they had something on you, you’d be charged already. So, they’re just trying to buy time.”
“What about Morris?” I ask.
“What about him?” he replies.
“Is he OK?”
“Yes, he’s back home,” Hank divulges. “This is all still unofficial, but the story is still that he heard your voice and recognized it as the kidnapper’s.”
I try not to think about it, but it’s hard when someone’s accusing you of something you could go down for thirty years. My blood boils just thinking about it. Hank notices it immediately and tries to calm me down.
“No use in getting pissed,” he reminds me. “It’s still his word against yours. There is no evidence against you, and you have an alibi.”
“Proven by someone who works for me,” I cloud up.
“Yes,” he nods, his head bobbling to the left, then to the right. “It would have been better if someone else saw you, like the waiter or something.”
“I told you that we were supposed to go have dinner, then I ended up working late, Williams and Kinley went ahead without me, while I stayed at the office.”
“The cleaning crew?” Hank asks, sounding hopeful, although we’ve already had this conversation.
“I told you they leave by eight, and come back at four in the morning,” I repeat what I’ve already told him.