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Authors: Andrew McAllister

BOOK: Unauthorized Access
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“He says he didn’t.”

“I hope that’s true.”

Lesley sighed. “You and me both.”

“Look, I know this must be grinding you up. I just called to say if you ever need someone to talk to or anything, give me a call. I’ll be glad to help any way I can.”

That brought a sad smile to Lesley’s face.

“Thanks, that’s sweet of you.”

A knock sounded on the door to Lesley’s apartment.

“I should let you go,” Lesley said. “Someone’s at my door.”

“You’ll keep me up to date on how Rob’s making out?”

“For sure.”

Lesley hung up and walked to the door. She felt a little better after Tim’s call, knowing someone cared enough to check on her.

Half expecting to see Shayna, she opened the door. When she saw who it was, she was so surprised she could only stare.

* * *

The officer delivered Rob to the interview room and then withdrew, closing the door as she went out. Rob was left looking at a man so black he positively shone. The guy appeared to be in his mid-thirties, stood a few inches over six feet, was completely bald and wore a gray suit and polished shoes.

“Neal Pettigrew,” the man said, extending his hand. His voice was deep and resonant. “I’m an attorney. Your father hired me to represent you.”

Other than having his fingerprints taken and being moved forcibly along by the arm, the firm handshake was Rob’s first physical contact with another human being since the arrest. Rob felt a spark of hope, the first of the day. Surely now the madness would end.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” Rob said.

“Let’s sit down,” Pettigrew said, indicating the wooden table.

When they were seated, Rob said, “This is all a big mistake. I hope you can help clear it up.”

“That’s what I get paid for, but I need you to do your part too, so first we need to set some ground rules.”

“Sure. Anything.”

“It’s my job to speak on your behalf, so from this point forward you don’t talk to anyone about your case unless I’m present. Understood?”

Rob nodded.

“That includes the police, friends and family, other prisoners and especially not the media. This is turning into a high-profile case, which is bad for you. Every time your picture appears on TV or in a newspaper you become more closely associated with the crime in the minds of all those potential jurors out there.”

Pettigrew underscored his points with small jabs of an expensive-looking pen. His gold cuff link flashed as he did so.

“I’ve been on TV?” Rob asked.

“The FBI released a statement this morning concerning your arrest. You’ve become big news.”

The revelation made Rob feel even more out of touch. The world was moving on without him.

“It’s not only the media,” Pettigrew continued. “Your boss at the bank—a Mr. Dysart—phoned me not long after I talked to your father. Dysart seems to be well connected, because shortly after that both the FBI and the U.S. Attorney’s office called.”

“That’s Stan all right. He swims with the big sharks.”

“Stan being Mr. Dysart?”

“Yes.”

“They were all anxious to tell me about the evidence they’ve gathered,” Pettigrew said. “That’s unusual. I’m entitled to see what they’ve got but they normally hold it back until the rules say they have to show it to me. Apparently they’re in a hurry to obtain some information from you.”

“The keyword,” Rob said. “I don’t have it.”

Pettigrew pursed his lips and nodded.

Rob sighed. “I had nothing to do with what happened at the bank. I’ve told this to the FBI and to Stan but nobody will listen.”

“Okay, I hear you. Now here’s a couple of things you have to understand. First, every client tells me they’re innocent. That’s how the game is played. Second, your actual guilt or innocence is irrelevant to the legal process. The only currency that matters here is evidence.”

“I’ve had all morning to sit around and think about the evidence,” Rob said. He hesitated, knowing he was going to sound paranoid. “The stuff they found in my apartment couldn’t have just shown up by accident. Someone must have planted it.”

“Do you know who that someone might be?” Pettigrew asked.

“No idea,” Rob said.

“Then we’ll have to address that question at a more appropriate time. For now we need to prepare for the arraignment tomorrow morning.”

“You mean I’m not getting out of here today?” Rob asked.

“You might not even be released tomorrow. That depends on whether we can convince the judge to give you bail. It helps that you’re a first-time offender, but the prosecutor might argue it’s crucial to keep you in custody until the bank is no longer incurring damages.”

Rob was tempted to inform Pettigrew that he was no “offender” but decided to let it slide. After all, the guy was trying to help. The prospect of even one more night in jail depressed him.

“We should talk about the possibility of a plea bargain,” Pettigrew said.

“No way.”

“I won’t lie to you Rob. They have a strong case with plenty of physical evidence. The system penalizes people who gamble with a trial and lose. You almost always get a better deal if you make it early in the process.”

“But if I didn’t do anything wrong, how could they prove I did?”

“They don’t have to prove it. They only have to convince a jury.”

“And you think they can.”

“I didn’t say that,” Pettigrew said. “I’m just pointing out your options. You should consider the fact that the evidence is strong.”

Rob clenched his jaw and glared at his lawyer.

“You think I did it, don’t you?”

“That’s not important,” Pettigrew said.

“It is to me,” Rob shouted.

Pettigrew didn’t seem fazed by the outburst.

“The courts are beginning to treat computer crimes as very serious indeed,” he said. “If you elect to go to trial and are convicted, you could be facing ten years in prison, or even more. The Assistant U.S. Attorney hinted that with a plea bargain you would probably be looking at something closer to two years, which would mean you could be out in a year.”

Rob swallowed dryly. After one night in jail, a year sounded like an eternity. And who would ever trust him to work as a computer professional again? Then there was Lesley—but he didn’t even want to go there. The whole concept of pleading guilty was inconceivable.

“Of course,” Pettigrew said, “any deal depends on you giving up the keyword.”

The twisted ball of tension in Rob’s gut settled in for a long stay.

* * *

Rose McGrath was about the same size and build as her daughter, although age had added a few lines to her face and a few pounds to her petite frame. Rose’s brunette hair was shorter and straighter than Lesley’s. She gave her daughter a tentative smile.

“Gee, I thought you’d be glad to see me,” Rose said.

“Oh, Mom,” Lesley said, “of course I am.”

Lesley gave her mother a big hug. Rose stepped into the apartment and Lesley closed the door.

“I was going to call you,” Lesley said, “but I didn’t know what to say.”

“Sheila called me first thing this morning, said you were still sleeping. I was so worried I had to come right away.”

Leo trotted over to investigate the newcomer and busied himself with the sneakers Rose took off. He had to teach the laces who was the boss.

Lesley held up her ring hand. A look of astonishment spread across Rose’s face. She reached out to hold Lesley’s hand, looked slowly up into Lesley’s face, then back down at the ring.

“I take it Aunt Sheila didn’t mention this,” Lesley said.

“No,” Rose said, shaking her head weakly.

“I always thought it would be exciting when I showed you a diamond, that we’d jump up and down and giggle or something.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Lesley sighed. “He proposed Monday night. We were going to call you last night, but … well, then he was arrested.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Rose said, her face somber. “I mean, ‘congratulations’ doesn’t seem right, but …”

“It’s okay, Mom. Come on in and sit down.” Lesley led the way into the kitchen. “Have you had lunch?”

“I’m not hungry,” Rose said as she sat at the kitchen table.

“Me neither.”

Leo scampered to his dish, turned his nose up at the dried remnants he found there and started rubbing against Lesley’s ankles. She took the hint and opened the cupboard to get a can of cat food.

“I always thought Rob was such a nice young man,” Rose said. “I guess it shows you never know.”

“But we don’t really know what’s going on yet. It could all turn out to be a mistake.”

The can opener hummed and Leo’s ankle rubbing intensified.

“Really? But Sheila said they found all sorts of evidence that proved he was the one who stole the money.”

Lesley rolled her eyes. “Nobody stole any money, Mom.”

She scooped fishy paste into a fresh bowl.

“Then what did he do?”

“He says he didn’t do anything.”

“People don’t get arrested for doing nothing.”

Tiny anger lines appeared between Lesley’s eyebrows. She put the fresh food on the floor. Leo started smacking contentedly.

“I don’t want to get into it all over again,” Lesley said. “The police found this, the police found that. It’s all anyone wants to talk about today.”

Lesley started straightening up things on the counter, rearranging canisters that looked perfectly fine before she started.

Rose pulled a package of cigarettes from her purse. She had one out and was thumbing her lighter before Lesley noticed.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that here,” Lesley said.

Rose stopped and let the flame die.

“You’re right,” she said, busily stuffing everything back in her purse. “I forgot, I’m sorry. I’m just not thinking straight right now.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I just thought if I could help, you know, make you feel better or something.”

“I’ll be all right, Mom. Really.”

“Because I’ve been through this, you know, so I thought—”

Lesley set the toaster down with a sharp clunk, spraying crumbs all over the newly wiped patch underneath it.

“This is not the same,” she said, turning to glare at her mother.

Rose returned none of Lesley’s anger. Her look was full of worry and compassion instead.

“I know it’s hard,” Rose said. “Believe me, I know.”

“I knew you were going to do this. I just knew it.”

“Right now you think you’ll never get over Rob, but—”

“Who said anything about getting over him?”

“I want you to be happy, that’s all. After this I can’t imagine Rob doing that for you.”

“We love each other, Mom. This will all turn out to be a mistake, you’ll see.”

Rose looked at her daughter with infinite sadness.

“That’s what I said, too.”

Lesley flung the damp cloth into the sink and glared at her mother.

“Rob is not like Dad.”

* * *

Leo made a warm spot on Lesley’s lap as he slept in a contented ball. Apparently the ferocious hunter was temporarily tuckered out.

Lesley’s head reeled as her long-held convictions about Rob collided violently with the reality being laid out for her by the two FBI agents sitting in her living room. She wanted to find a hole to poke in the agents’ story. There had to be one, some way she could show everyone they were wrong about Rob. Especially her mother, who had insisted on staying when the agents showed up.

“We need your help on one thing, though,” Steeves said. “Rob says he was with you Monday evening at 7:30. Is that right?”

“Yes, we were still together then. Why?”

“Someone used the computer in Rob’s apartment to send out several messages about the attack, and we know it happened at that time.”

Lesley blinked in astonishment. This was it. Her chance to help clear Rob.

“There’s no way he could have done that,” she said. “We were together all evening until he dropped me at home.”

“What time was that?” Steeves asked.

“After eight o’clock. He was called into work and I remember looking at the clock in his car and thinking I hadn’t expected our night to end so soon.”

“Rob says you stopped at his apartment first.”

“I had to fix my makeup. It was the closest place. But he didn’t use his computer.”

“You were with him the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“He never left your sight.”

“Well … yeah, I guess he did. But just when I went into the bathroom to fix my makeup.”

“And how long did that take?”

Lesley felt the cold start to trickle back into her gut. How long was she in there? And how long does it take to use a computer?

“I’m not sure.”

“Less than a minute?”

The trickle gathered speed.

“More like ten minutes or so.”

“Or so,” Steeves said. “Could it have been fifteen minutes?”

Lesley remembered Rob’s remark about how long she had spent in the bathroom.

“I suppose,” she said. “I don’t really know.”

Steeves nodded. “So the two of you were in his apartment at the exact time the messages were sent, and Rob was out of your sight for ten or fifteen minutes. Was there anyone else in the apartment with you?”

Lesley looked from Steeves to her mother, who was wringing her hands on her lap and looking distraught.

“No,” Lesley said in a small voice.

“Then that leaves two possibilities,” Steeves said. “Either Rob did this when you were in the bathroom …”

Steeves paused while Lesley squirmed.

“… or the two of you did it together.”

Rose’s head snapped up. “You have no proof of that,” she said.

Lesley was too astounded to add a retort of her own.

“It doesn’t matter whether you actually helped him,” Steeves said. “If you knew what was going on, you can be charged as an accessory to a Federal crime.”

Lesley’s feeling of disorientation went to a whole new level.

“How about it Lesley?” Steeves said. “Did you and Rob cook this up so you’d have a big juicy story to cover? A story where you’d have an advantage over every other reporter in town. Access to your uncle. The inside scoop. Lots of brownie points with your boss.”

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