Lineup (7 page)

Chapter 13

YARON
Regev didn’t hesitate for a second before assuring Inspector Nachum that he had nothing to worry about, he could count on them not to breathe a word about the first lineup. He was surprised to get the call from Nachum, and even more surprised by the detective’s disapproving tone. He had no idea he’d done something wrong. And he certainly hadn’t meant to do anything illegal or cause trouble for the police. All he wanted was to protect his daughter, to save her from another ordeal, to do what any normal father would do. He made only one request concerning the “proper” lineup Nachum was planning: “Just get it over with as fast as possible.”

The psychologist had explained that Adi would have good days and bad days, that they shouldn’t regard every little thing she did or said as a sign of improvement or decline. Still, he felt that her spirits were a bit lighter now that they’d caught the bastard. It seemed to give her some relief. He could tell. Despite everything she’d been through on Friday, when the family was sitting around the dinner table that night she’d laughed along with the rest of them at one of Adam’s funny army stories. It lasted only a brief moment. Irit was so relieved to see her laughing at her brother’s anecdote that she burst into tears, and then Adi started crying, and her little sister Michal joined in. He had to admit that even his own eyes were wet. But still, she
had
laughed.

He debated telling Irit what Nachum was planning. She had enough to deal with at the moment and he didn’t want to add to her burden. But he decided he had no choice—he needed her help.

Her response caught him off guard. He knew Irit hated what she called “dirty tricks and half-truths,” but he was sure this time she’d see things his way. After all, it was their daughter they were talking about.

“You want me to tell her to lie?” she asked incredulously.

It had obviously been a mistake to tell her. They’d been married for thirty years. He should’ve known better.

“Calm down. Why do you have to make such a big deal about everything? It’s only if his attorney asks her directly. No one’s telling her to lie. You’re making a mountain out of molehill,” he said in a lame attempt at damage control.

“I don’t like this, Yaron. It doesn’t smell right. I won’t have either of you lying about anything. I think you should call that detective back and tell him that if they question you about it, you’re going to tell the truth.” She wasn’t budging. He hated that self-righteous tone of hers that implied she was the only one who knew right from wrong.

“Do you hear yourself?” he shouted. “Who exactly are we lying to? The rapist? The scum who agreed to represent him? That’s who you’re standing up for? What about your own daughter? Who’s standing up for her? Am I the only one who’s thinking about Adi?”

“That’s a cheap shot, and you know it.” His words didn’t seem to be having any effect. “I’m thinking about Adi just as much as you are, even if I’m not playing at being an undercover agent and lurking around outside her house. I want to see him behind bars just like you do. All I’m asking is to do it honestly, without getting Adi messed up in any underhanded schemes the cops are plotting. She’s suffered enough.”

Irit’s holier-than-thou attitude infuriated him. He sympathized with Nachum. He’d been the manager of a high-tech company for a long time. Five years ago they’d gone public, and ever since then he’d been plagued by an army of interfering fools: quality controllers, safety officers, comptrollers, accountants, lawyers, directors who did nothing but rake in money. If they’d just leave him alone to do his job, he’d get things done much faster, and much better too. Sometimes you had to take shortcuts to keep on moving forward, to get to where you really wanted to go. He’d done it often enough. That’s just how it was in the real world.

Trying to talk Irit into changing her mind was a waste of time. He stood up.

“We’re not done here,” she said, getting up and waving a finger in front of his face. “At the very least I want to talk to Adi and see what she thinks about it.”

“What do you mean, ‘Talk to Adi’? Are you crazy?” he shouted. “No way. For three weeks I sat outside her house until I finally nabbed that animal. I’m not going to let you screw this up, Irit. He’s going to rot in prison like he deserves, you hear me? Save your lectures for your bleeding-heart friends. This is the real world. You’re not going to get in the way and you’re not going to talk to anyone. You hear me, Irit? Don’t fuck this up!”

Not waiting for a reply, he strode quickly out of the living room and into the study, slamming the door behind him. Why had he ever imagined he could enlist her help?

ADI
was in front of the computer bursting bright-colored bubbles again. He watched her for a while, wondering why she found this game so fascinating and trying to find the words to explain to her what was going to happen at the lineup tomorrow. He and Irit hadn’t exchanged a word since their fight. The silence had been broken only once, when he asked her again last night to keep out of it, and she promised not to interfere, but not before repeating that she didn’t like it at all.

“I heard that monster got himself a sleazy lawyer who twists everything the police say. He’s a lying bastard,” he began.

Adi barely looked up before returning her attention to the game.

“You don’t need to have anything to do with him. You don’t even have to talk to him. But if he asks you if you ever saw a picture of his client, it’s best if you say no. That way it’ll all be over quickly, no questions asked.”

He stared at her intently, waiting for her reaction. She didn’t give the slightest indication that she’d even heard what he said.

“I don’t know, Dad. I don’t think I want to do that,” she suddenly blurted out without taking her eyes off the screen.

“There’s nothing to it, Adinka. The lawyer doesn’t matter. It’s not a courtroom.” He wondered if Irit had broken her promise and spoken to her.

“I’m not sure it’s him.”

Her voice was so soft, he wasn’t certain he’d heard her properly. His face registered astonishment. “What do you mean you’re not sure it’s him?”

“It was dark,” she went on in the same quiet tone. “And I didn’t get a good look at his face because of the cap. I’m not sure.”

“But Friday you said it was him. We were sitting in the living room and I showed you the pictures. You said it was him, you said you recognized him.” Yaron couldn’t get his head around it. He’d come here today convinced that the only problem he had to deal with was the little white lie Nachum had asked them to tell. He’d never expected this.

Silently, Adi went on playing, rapidly moving the mouse and clicking incessantly.

“Look at me, Adi.” He couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice. Why did everyone in the family have to be so difficult?

She turned her head and he could see the tears in her eyes. He felt his heart seize up.

“I understand, baby. This whole lineup thing is hard for you. You’re nervous about it,” he said, his voice almost as soft as hers. “I know it’s messing with your head. But don’t let that confuse you. It’s him. Believe me, Adi, he’s the man who did it.”

“How do you know that?” Now she was the one who sounded irritated. She turned back to the screen. “I was there.”

“He confessed,” he said. “The police . . . they told me he confessed to raping you. The judge even remanded him for seven days.”

“So what do they need me for if they’ve got his confession? I don’t . . . I don’t want to see him. What do they need me for?” she repeated, suddenly sounding like a little girl.

“I don’t know why they need you, honey, but they do,” her father replied, trying to comfort her just as he did when she was a baby. “I guess it’s routine procedure, something they have to do to get a conviction.”

Adi continued to focus on her game, ignoring him.

“Talk to me, Adinka,” he pleaded with her. “They need you there tomorrow.”

“But I already told you, I’m not sure.”

“I understand, you’re upset, that’s perfectly normal.” He started to remind her of the pictures, of how she’d recognized him when he showed them to her, but she cut him off. Pushing her chair back, she stood up and faced him, shouting accusingly, “You’re not listening. I’m sick of it. You never listen to me!”

He stared at her in shock, powerless to respond. The Adi he knew never raised her voice. She’d never been rebellious. His friends had rebellious children who caused them all sorts of heartache, but not Adi. She’d always been such a pliant child. “What do you want me to do? Tell me, what are you asking me to do?” he said finally, speaking gently to avoid another outburst.

She didn’t answer.

“Adi, sweetheart,” he began, and then he didn’t know how to go on. When they’d arrested the rapist he’d felt a huge weight lifted from him. And it made him very happy to know he’d played such an important role in catching the creep, that he’d fulfilled his duty as a father to protect his child. But ever since, the obstacles had been piling up, preventing him from moving forward.

“I’m just not sure,” she repeated, bursting into tears.

He gathered her in his arms. To his surprise, she didn’t resist. In fact, she almost fell into his embrace. He could feel her body trembling. “It’s okay, Adinka,” he whispered in her ear. “Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry about it. It’ll all be over very soon.”

Chapter 14

ZIV
Nevo’s spirits rose when he saw the seven other men waiting to be led into the lineup with him. He’d spent the past two nights locked up in Abu Kabir in a long, narrow cell that reeked of urine, feces, Lysol, and fear. One of his eleven cell mates had been arrested on suspicion of homicide, one was facing charges of grand theft, and the rest were junkies and petty thieves. He did his best to look tough, but he was shaking inside. He sat in the corner apart from the others, didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t make eye contact, and kept out of their fights and shouting matches. Despite his exhaustion, he got almost no sleep.

On Saturday night he’d been remanded for seven days. The whole procedure took less than five minutes. The judge merely approved the terms his attorney had agreed on with the prosecution, with little more than a glance in his direction.

He wasn’t even allowed time to talk to the lawyer. Fifteen minutes before the hearing a man had appeared, introduced himself as Assaf Rosen, and announced that he was the public defender appointed to represent him. Ziv stared at him in confusion. “That means you don’t have to pay me,” Rosen explained. He apologized for not meeting with him sooner, claiming the police had deliberately sent him to the wrong precinct. “Never mind,” Ziv said, “at least you’re here now.” Rosen asked him a few questions that didn’t seem relevant and then said that, given the circumstances, he would advise agreeing to a remand for seven to ten days.

“In cases like yours, the police usually get whatever they ask for. The best move is to close a deal. They’ll ask for fifteen days, I’ll say five, and we’ll meet in the middle.” He sounded very sure of himself.

“But I’m not guilty, I didn’t do it . . . I’m innocent . . . ,” Ziv protested.

Rosen interrupted. “That doesn’t make any difference at this stage. If you want to fight it, I’ll do it. But you’ve got to understand that it won’t do you any good. In the end you’ll just get fifteen days. Especially with Judge Luzon on the bench.”

Rosen eventually got the prosecution to agree to seven days. He flashed Ziv a big smile, very pleased with himself. “Be thankful,” he whispered to Ziv before they took him away, “it could’ve been much worse.”

Ziv had seen Rosen again a few minutes ago. He’d explained that the suspect had the right to have his attorney present during the lineup, and that’s why he was here. “This is critical to our case,” he said. Ziv had already figured that out for himself. They’d sat side by side, waiting for the lineup to begin. He wanted to tell Rosen the whole story, prove to him that he was innocent, but the lawyer cut him off. “We’ll talk afterward,” he said. “No point in wasting your breath now.”

“It’ll go okay. I didn’t rape anyone,” Ziv told Rosen, more for his own benefit than for the lawyer’s.

“Let’s wait and see,” Rosen answered, giving him another broad smile. He was only a few years older than Nevo and didn’t look anything like the flashy lawyers you see on TV. But Ziv knew he didn’t have the money to hire someone like that.

He’d used his one phone call to contact his older brother. “Asshole, how did you get yourself mixed up in something like that?” Itai had shrieked at him when he told him where he was calling from. “You’ve been going from bad to worse ever since you and Merav split up.” Ziv didn’t reply. “I need money for a lawyer,” he said quietly. “I don’t trust the guy they gave me.” Itai didn’t promise anything. “The mortgage payments are killing us,” he said. Ziv kept silent, choosing not to remind his brother that he’d signed over to him most of his share in their parents’ life insurance settlement because of his upcoming marriage to Nurit. They used to be best friends. Some people even mistook them for twins. But they’d grown apart since their parents’ death. His divorce didn’t help either. Like the rest of the world, Itai and Nurit took Merav’s side, blaming him for the breakup. It was only after he hung up that he realized that Itai hadn’t said he believed him, that he knew he didn’t commit rape.

THE
door opened and in walked Ohad, Nachum’s second-in-command.

“Come on, let’s get this show on the road,” he said drily.

Rosen shook his hand. “I’ll be in the other room with the victim and the cops. I’ll be watching everything. Good luck.”

Ziv stood up and followed Ohad down the hall, his heart pounding. What if it isn’t okay? What if something goes wrong? It suddenly occurred to him that the cops could pick guys for the lineup that didn’t look anything like him. What if they did it to confuse her, and then she pointed to him? He was sorry he hadn’t thought of that before, when Rosen was there.

But then he’d seen the guys waiting to go in with him and he felt a little better. They were all more or less his height and build. He counted seven. That made eight altogether. Listening in on their conversations, he learned that five of them were cops and the other two were detainees like him.

It had to be okay, no question about it. he comforted himself, secure in the knowledge that he didn’t rape anyone. He’d never even met Adi Regev.

Ohad led them into a narrow room with the numbers one to eight on one wall and a mirror on the other. Just like in the movies.

Ohad asked him what number he wanted. “Anything but five,” one of the detainees told him. “They always pick five.”

“Four,” he said. “I’ll be number four.”

The men lined up and waited. What should he do? How should he stand? What kind of expression should he have on his face? Serious? Calm? Amused? If he’d ever seen a real rapist, he could try to look different, but how should he know what a rapist looked like?

He was having trouble standing still. He kept shifting his weight nervously, until he caught himself doing it and stopped fidgeting. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself.

He looked at the mirror. What was going on back there? It was taking a long time. Maybe that was a good sign. Maybe the girl couldn’t make up her mind. Or the cops could’ve told her the man who raped her was in the lineup and she desperately wanted to pick the right one, but she didn’t recognize any of them.

The door opened, startling him, and Ohad walked in.

“That’s it. We’re done here,” he said evenly.

Ziv followed Ohad back down the corridor in silence. If he was off the hook, Ohad would probably tell him, maybe even let him go. On the other hand, if the girl didn’t ID him, that meant the cops got it wrong, and maybe that’s why he wasn’t in a talking mood. He ran his hand through his hair. He’d never been so nervous in his life.

Assaf Rosen was sitting at a table in a tiny room. He rose when Ziv was led in.

“What did she say?” he blurted out immediately.

“I’m sorry. She picked you out of the lineup.”

“What? What are you talking about?” He felt like someone had punched him in the gut. His face was burning. How could that happen? He was innocent! He didn’t rape her, he didn’t rape anyone.

“Was she positive?” he asked, looking in desperation for some tiny ray of light to hang his hopes on, something that would help him make sense out of the craziness.

Rosen nodded. “She pointed to you right away, didn’t wait more than a second or two. Not enough for us to make anything of it.”

Ziv collapsed onto the chair.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

Rosen didn’t answer.

“I didn’t do it, I didn’t rape her. You believe me, don’t you?” he asked, his voice breaking.

Rosen got up. “I’ll be back tomorrow and we can talk then.”

“Can’t we talk now?” Ziv pleaded. He needed someone to tell him what to do, someone to be on his side.

“Sorry, I can’t stay. I have to be in court in an hour and a half and I’m already running late,” Rosen said, reaching out his hand as if they’d just closed a deal.

“The only thing you have to remember is to keep your mouth shut. Don’t talk to the cops. Don’t talk to anyone. There’s a good chance they’ll stick you in with a guy who’ll pretend to give you advice, act like your best friend, try to get you to pour your heart out to him,” he went on. “No matter how much you want to, don’t say anything. The guy’ll be a plant, an undercover cop or a punk who thinks the judge will go easy on him if he does the cops’ dirty work for them. Just remember to keep your mouth shut. Got it?”

Ziv nodded.

“Okay, then. Tomorrow,” Rosen said as he walked out of the room, leaving Ziv all alone. I’m not guilty, I didn’t rape her, he wanted to shout after him, to shout to the whole world. But he kept silent. What was the point? Who’d listen to him?