The Last Good Girl (14 page)

I'll be happy to answer any questions that Emily or the Disciplinary Committee have at the hearing, and hope to be able to clear this matter up to everyone's satisfaction.

A
nna read Dylan's statement with skepticism. She knew the words weren't his, not really. Several lawyers had pored over Dylan's official statement before it was sent over to the university's Disciplinary Committee. The attorneys would have listened to Dylan's story, then written the brief themselves, and charged a small fortune for the work. Dylan might have changed a word or two, then signed his name.

And these were good lawyers—she was familiar with the law firm whose letterhead was at the top of the documents making Dylan's case. Kaiser, LeGrand & Dillon was a prestigious D.C. white-collar boutique founded by a former prosecutor and a couple BigLaw veterans. They were acclaimed for their federal criminal defense, but they also had a niche representing men accused of sexual assaults on college campuses and were regarded as one of the best firms in the country on that topic.

Anna looked at the carefully crafted statement, each word painstakingly chosen for maximum effect. Emily Shapiro, going in by herself, had been up against a Goliath and probably hadn't even realized it.

Anna's phone rang, pulling her attention from the file and back into the world of the command center. Dozens of agents bustled about, each engaged in some aspect of trying to find Emily Shapiro. Sam was on the other side of the room, poring over a map with a Tower University officer, discussing which alleyways had been searched and where to dispatch K-9 units. Anna pulled her phone out of her purse. Jody was calling. She considered letting it go to voice mail; she wanted to keep working. But her sister was home alone with a baby—Anna needed to make sure she was all right.

“Hey, Jo,” Anna answered. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I'm—actually—Grady's coming over again tonight. I'm calling to see if . . . would you mind if I borrowed your white silk shirt?”

Anna almost laughed, but stopped herself. Jody was slow to warm to men, including Grady. Especially Grady. The fact that he was the father of her child sometimes seemed like something she held against him. His paternity held a power over her—the power to influence and possibly even take her baby. A little romance between the parents might be a good thing. Or it could be disastrous. In any case, Anna was happy to let her use the shirt.

“Sure,” Anna said. “There's a silver belt that looks really cute with it too.”

“Cool, thanks. Sorry to bother you. Everything okay there?”

“Okay. Not great.”

“You find the girl?”

“I'm sure you'll hear about it on the news when we do. Listen, I'm heading to court with Jack in a few minutes, and I—”

“Wait—” Jody interrupted. “Jack?”

“Um.”

“Jack
Bailey
?”

“Yeah.”

“Annie!” Jody practically shouted in her ear. “You're working with Jack again? That is the worst idea ever.”

Anna held the phone away from her face and glanced around the command center. No one else seemed to have noticed the explosion from her phone. Anna brought it back to her ear, covered her mouth with her hand, and spoke softly. She hoped anyone watching would just think she was trying to muffle the sounds of the room.

“I had to take this case, Jo,” she said. “There's a missing girl. A college freshman. We've got search dogs sniffing to find her—or her body. She could be Olivia one day. She could be Leigh. Wouldn't you want someone who's good at what they do? Someone who cares?”

“Come on, Annie. There are like a thousand federal prosecutors. Why do you have to be the one to do this?”

“Because I was the one who was asked.”

“Jack did the asking, I assume?”

“Well, yeah.”

“What a coincidence.”

“I happen to be a sex-crimes prosecutor. One of the few federal sex-crimes prosecutors in the country. And I have ties to Michigan without having ties to the kids' families. So I'm the right choice for this.”

“Of course you are. Jack's too smart to do anything that couldn't be defended. I'm not talking about your legal qualifications. I'm talking about your heart. This puts you back a year. You were just getting over him.”

“I know.” Anna sighed.
Maybe
—the thought crept unbidden into her head—
I don't need to get over him. Maybe we can have that happily ever after we were planning a year ago.
“Look, I'm not asking for your dating advice. Wise as it is. I just need to find this girl. Hopefully before it's too late.”

“Okay, sis.” Jody's voice softened. “Are you holding up?”

“Yeah. No. I could use some sleep. But I'm not really going to be able to sleep till we find her. I'm going to be out late again tonight probably. So don't stay up or worry.”

Anna glanced down at her watch. She had to be in court in forty minutes.

“Do you think the Highsmith kid hurt her?” Jody asked.

“Too soon to tell. I want to search his frat house, but I don't have enough evidence yet. There's a lot of power on his side. It's hard to get cooperation here.”

“I know what that feels like.” Jody had had her own harrowing fight against a powerful group of men. In her case, it was a local football team. So many of the cases Anna handled were sparked by the evil men did when they were in groups. Sports teams, street gangs, fraternities, Congress. There was something about powerful males hanging in packs that brought out the worst in them.

In Jody's case, she had fought back, hard, using her own rules. That was her personality. Anna was more likely to change the system from within, Jody from the outside. Either way, Jody understood why Anna had to fight.

“In fact, I was thinking about what I could do to help,” Jody said.

“There's nothing you can do to help.”

“Come on. Surely you could use a beautiful young woman to go to the fraternity and get the inside scoop.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I really want to help, Annie. Tell me what I can do.”

“If I tell you to do something, you're considered a government agent—and you'll be breaking a hundred rules you don't even know about. You want to help? Pick up some coffee. We're out.” Anna could hear Leigh's little muffled coos, and the sound of Jody kissing her sweet cheeks. She felt a lump in her throat. “And take good care of that baby.”

“I do that anyway.”

“I know. I wish I could kiss her right now. I keep thinking about her, Jo. How do parents cope with having their kids out there, when anything can happen to them?”

“They say having a baby is like having your heart outside your chest, walking around in the world.”

Jack strode into the command center. He nodded at Anna, then walked over to Sam and conferred with her about the map.

“I've got to go,” Anna said. “Kiss that baby for me.”

“While you're out there, make sure you protect yourself too. You know I'm on your side no matter what. I just can't stand the thought of you getting hurt again. For what it's worth: I vote for Cooper.”

“You just want me to stay in Michigan so you have a babysitter for Leigh.”

“Well, yeah, of course.”

Anna was smiling as she hung up. As she put her phone away, Sam dropped a police lab report in front of her. It was the preliminary report from Dylan's car.

“You're gonna want to read this,” Sam said.

T
he report confirmed Anna's fears. The red-brown smudge on Dylan's car was human blood.

“Do we know whose blood?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Sam said. “They just completed the serology. Still waiting on the DNA.”

“Were there other biological materials on the car?”

“Yeah. A small patch of blood inside, on the driver's-side floor, and a patch of semen on the front passenger seat. Nothing in the trunk.”

“How fast can the lab do the DNA?”

“Two to three days if I push them.”

“Push,” Anna said. There was always a long wait to get DNA testing done, even if a “rush” was requested. Having someone like Sam advocating made a big difference. “We can use Emily's hairbrush to get a DNA sample from her. Dylan will be harder—he's not cooperating, so we won't have a sample from him.”

“But he's not so important at this point. If it's his blood, you might expect that in his own car. If it's Emily's, it's a different story. And then we'll be able to get a warrant to swab Dylan.”

“Yep. For now, let's go get his disciplinary papers. The judge arranged a special hearing for us.”

• • •

The Theodore Levin U.S. Courthouse for the Eastern District of Michigan was a massive concrete structure sitting on a full block of Lafayette Boulevard in downtown Detroit. Although the courthouse itself was in pretty good shape, the streets around it were simple urban blight. Next door stood the old Free Press Building, a historic twelve-story gothic structure that was abandoned. The paint on the lamp posts was filthy and peeling. Anna knew that only one in ten of Detroit's streetlights actually worked.

Despite the location, the federal court was an incredibly prestigious place to work—especially for judges. They said being appointed a federal judge was like going to heaven without having to die first. Federal judges had life tenure, a six-figure salary, and their pick of the best law students vying to be their law clerks. Magistrate judges were a step below in terms of rank—their term was eight years, not life, and their rulings could be immediately overruled by a district judge. Still, many magistrates had big egos. But Judge Schwalbe didn't seem to suffer from black-robe syndrome. He welcomed Anna and Jack warmly at the door to the courthouse, unlocking it from the inside to let them in. Since it was Sunday, the courthouse was closed. He waved them through the unmanned security post.

“I assume I'm safe from a couple of AUSAs?”

They laughed and walked in.

Only a few lights illuminated the courthouse. The wide marble hallways were so quiet and empty, they reminded Anna of the city of Detroit itself. But the courtroom was plush, warm, and brightly lit. The university's lawyer, Bryan Frink, already sat at a table and nodded as they walked in. A court reporter had her stenographic machine set up in front of the judge's bench, and a young woman who Anna guessed was his law clerk sat at the deputy's table. Judge Schwalbe stepped into a small robing chamber, where he slipped into his robe. It was always amazing to see the transformation that a black robe could effect on a person. One minute, he was just a regular guy with a nice smile and an impressive head of hair. The next he was a ruler.

Anna sat next to Jack at the other counsel table. Again, she had the feeling of traveling back in time, to a place where they were a united team. They'd co-chaired several cases. He was always lead counsel; she was always second chair. It made sense since he was ten years older and far more experienced. Even now, although she had called this hearing and would be the one speaking, he was clearly in charge.

The judge took the bench, and Anna focused on the task at hand.

The clerk said, “Now calling the case of
In re: Grand Jury Original Number 2015-US-1324
.”

The lawyers stood.

“Bryan Frink on behalf of Tower University.”

“Anna Curtis for the United States.”

She felt a shot of pride every time she identified herself in court. She represented the entire country; her job was to fight for the interests of everyone. Her goal wasn't just to win—it was to do justice. To figure out the truth and then to do the right thing. Sometimes figuring out the right thing was the hardest part—but it was always the goal. Few lawyers had such a luxury.

“Please be seated,” the judge said. “We're here today to hear the emergency motion by Tower University to quash the subpoena issued by the government to obtain documents from the university. Because this hearing deals with grand jury materials, the transcript will be sealed while the investigation is ongoing. It may be released to the public at a later time, depending on the outcome of the case. I want to thank my law clerk, Rachael Findlay, and the court reporter, Joan Koenig, for coming in on a Sunday afternoon for this important matter.”

The ladies smiled up at him.

“Let's start with the government. Ms. Curtis?”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Anna stood. “Our case is very straightforward. We're investigating the disappearance of Emily Shapiro. In doing so, we have learned that Ms. Shapiro brought charges against another student, Dylan Highsmith . . .” She laid out the facts they'd uncovered so far. “As part of our investigation we've subpoenaed Tower University to obtain all paperwork related to Mr. Highsmith. Per DOJ policy, I've gotten permission to issue a forthwith subpoena, to get the documents now. Every hour of delay could be costing this girl her life. It is well within the grand jury's jurisdiction to ask for such documents. We are glad the university agreed to turn over the first set of documents, those involving both Ms. Shapiro and Mr. Highsmith. But we are frankly surprised that it's being so recalcitrant in turning over the rest of the papers, those involving Mr. Highsmith and other women. We need them, as soon as possible, in order to allow this investigation to go forward.”

Judge Schwalbe said, “Is Dylan Highsmith a suspect in Emily Shapiro's disappearance?”

Anna hesitated. Saying yes would start a war. Not immediately—this was a closed hearing. But if news of the hearing leaked, the press would be all over it. Dylan would be named, publicly, as a suspect, and his Google results would forever reflect that. Every employer who ever looked him up, every girl who ever went on a first date with him would see that he had been suspected of kidnapping a young woman. Just by naming him, Anna would change the course of his life forever.