"You're sending us home?" she asked.

I checked my watch.

"Why not?" I said. "It's almost four thirty and I'm going to dive into the files and I don't want any distractions. You two go on home, have a good night, and we'll start again tomorrow."

"You're going to work here alone tonight?" Cisco asked.

"Yeah, but don't worry. I'll lock the door and I won't let anybody in-even if I know him."

I smiled. Lorna and Cisco didn't. I pointed to the open door to the office. It had a slide bolt that could be used to lock it at the top of the doorframe. If necessary I would be able to secure both outside and inside perimeters. It gave new meaning to the idea of going into lockdown.

"Come on, I'll be fine. I've got work to do."

They slowly, reluctantly, started to make their way out of my office.

"Lorna," I called after them. "Patrick should be out there. Tell him to keep hanging. I might have something to tell him after I make that call."

Twenty-nine

I opened the Patrick Henson file on my desk and looked up the prosecutor's number. I wanted to get this out of the way before I went to work on the Elliot case. opened the Patrick Henson file on my desk and looked up the prosecutor's number. I wanted to get this out of the way before I went to work on the Elliot case.

The prosecutor was Dwight Posey, a guy I had dealt with before on cases and never liked. Some prosecutors deal with defense attorneys as though they are only one step removed from their clients. As pseudocriminals, not as educated and experienced professionals. Not as necessary cogs in the winding gears of the justice system. Most cops have this view and I can live with it. But it bothers me when fellow lawyers adopt the pose. Unfortunately, Dwight Posey was one of these, and if I could've gone through the rest of my life without ever having to talk to him, I would have been a happy man. But that was not going to be the case.

"So, Haller," he said after taking the call, "they've got you walking in a dead man's shoes, don't they?"

"What?"

"They gave you all of Jerry Vincent's cases, right? That's how you ended up with Henson."

"Yeah, something like that. Anyway, I'm returning your call, Dwight. Actually, your three calls. What's up? You get the motion I filed yesterday?"

I reminded myself that I had to step carefully here if I wanted to get everything I could out of the phone call. I couldn't let my distaste for the prosecutor affect the outcome for my client.

"Yes, I got the motion. It's sitting right here on my desk. That's why I've been calling."

He left it open for me to step in.

"And?"

"And, uh, well, we're not going to do that, Mick."

"Do what, Dwight?"

"Put our evidence out there for examination."

It was looking more and more like I had struck a major nerve with my motion.

"Well, Dwight, that's the beauty of the system, right? You don't get to make that decision. A judge does. That's why I didn't ask you. I put it in a motion and asked the judge."

Posey cleared his throat.

"No, actually, we do this time," he said. "We're going to drop the theft charge and just proceed with the drug charge. So you can withdraw your motion or we can inform the judge that the point is moot."

I smiled and nodded. I had him. I knew then that Patrick was going to walk.

"Only problem with that, Dwight, is that the drug charge came out of the theft investigation. You know that. When they popped my client, the warrant was for the theft. The drugs were found during the arrest. So you don't have one without the other."

I had the feeling that he knew everything I was saying and that the call was simply following a script. We were going where Posey wanted us to go and that was fine with me. This time I wanted to go there, too.

"Then, maybe we can just talk about a disposition on the matter," he said as if the idea had just occurred to him.

And there we were. We had come to the place Posey had wanted to get to from the moment he'd answered the call.

"I'm open to it, Dwight. You should know that my client voluntarily entered a rehab program after his arrest. He has completed the program, has full-time employment, and has been clean for four months. He'll give his p.i.s.s anytime, anywhere, to prove it."

"That is really good to hear," Posey said with false enthusiasm. "The DA's Office, as well as the courts, always looks favorably upon voluntary rehabilitation."

Tell me something I don't know, I almost said.

"The kid is doing good. I can vouch for that. What do you want to do for him?"

I knew how the script would read now. Posey would turn it into a goodwill gesture from the prosecution. He would make it seem as though the DA's Office were giving out the favor here, when the truth was that the prosecution was acting to insulate an important figure from political and personal embarra.s.sment. That was fine with me. I didn't care about the political ends of the deal as long as my client got what I wanted him to get.

"Tell you what, Mick. Let's make it go away, and maybe Patrick can use this opportunity to move ahead with being a productive member of society."

"Sounds like a plan to me, Dwight. You're making my day. And his."

"Okay, then get me his rehab records and we'll put it into a package for the judge."

Posey was talking about making it a pretrial intervention case. Patrick would have to take biweekly drug tests and in six months the case would go away if he kept clean. He would still have an arrest on his record but no conviction. Unless...

"You willing to expunge his record?" I asked.

"Uh..., that's asking a lot, Mickey. He did, after all, break in and steal the diamonds."

"He didn't break in, Dwight. He was invited in. And the alleged diamonds are what this is all about, right? Whether or not he actually did steal any diamonds."

Posey must have realized he had misspoken by bringing up the diamonds. He folded his tent quickly.

"All right, fine. We'll put it into the package."

"You're a good man, Dwight."

"I try to be. You will withdraw your motion now?"

"First thing tomorrow. When do we go to court? I have a trial starting the end of next week."

"Then we'll go for Monday. I'll let you know."

I hung up the phone and called the reception desk on the intercom. Luckily, Lorna answered.

"I thought you were sent home," I said.

"We're about to go through the door. I'm going to leave my car here and go with Cisco."

"What, on his donor donorcycle?"

"Excuse me, Dad, Dad, but I don't think you have anything to say about that." but I don't think you have anything to say about that."

I groaned.

"But I do have a say over who works as my investigator. If I can keep you two apart, maybe I can keep you alive."

"Mickey, don't you dare!"

"Can you just tell Cisco I need that address for the liquidator?"

"I will. And I'll see you tomorrow."

"Hope so. Wear a helmet."

I hung up and Cisco came in, carrying a Post-it in one hand and a gun in a leather holster in the other. He walked around the desk, put the Post-it down in front of me, then opened a drawer and put the weapon in it.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "You can't give me a gun."

"It's totally legal and registered to me."

"That's great but you can't give it to me. That's il-"

"I'm not giving it to you. I'm just storing it here because I'm done work for the day. I'll get it in the morning, okay?"

"Whatever. I think you two are overreacting."

"Better than underreacting. See you tomorrow."

"Thank you. Will you send Patrick in before you go?"

"You got it. And by the way, I always make her wear a helmet."

I looked at him and nodded.

"That's good, Cisco."

He left the room, and Patrick soon came in.

"Patrick, Cisco talked to Vincent's liquidator and he still has one of your long boards. You can go by and pick it up. Just tell him you are picking it up for me and to call me if there is any problem."

"Oh man, thank you!"

"Yeah, well, I've got even better news than that on your case."

"What happened?"

I went over the phone call I'd just had with Dwight Posey. As I told Patrick that he would do no jail time if he stayed clean, I watched his eyes gain a little light. It was as if I could see the burden drop off his shoulders. He could look once again at the future.

"I have to call my mom," he said. "She's gonna be so happy."

"Yeah, well, I hope you are, too."

"I am, I am."

"Now, the way I figure it, you owe me a couple thousand for my work on this. That's about two and a half weeks of driving. If you want, you can stick with me until it's paid off. After that, we can talk about it and see where we're at."

"That sounds good. I like the job."

"Good, Patrick, then it's a deal."

Patrick smiled broadly and was turning to go. "One other thing, Patrick."

He turned back to me.

"I saw you sleeping in your car in the garage this morning."

"Sorry. I'll find another spot."

He looked down at the floor.

"No, I'm I'm sorry," I said. "I forgot that you told me when we talked on the phone the first time that you were living in your car and sleeping on a lifeguard stand. I just don't know how safe it is to be sleeping in the same garage where a guy got shot the other night." sorry," I said. "I forgot that you told me when we talked on the phone the first time that you were living in your car and sleeping on a lifeguard stand. I just don't know how safe it is to be sleeping in the same garage where a guy got shot the other night."

"I'll find someplace else."

"Well, if you want, I can give you an advance on your pay. Would that help you maybe get a motel room or something?"

"Um, I guess."

I was glad to help him out but I knew that living out of a weekly motel was almost as depressing as living out of a car.

"I'll tell you what," I said. "If you want, you could stay with me for a couple weeks. Until you get some money in your pocket and maybe get a better plan going."

"At your place?"