SK01 - Waist Deep (32 page)

“You wanna hear a theory, Steffie?” Stone asked.
“I’ll tell you a theory.
You and Mr.
Jackson
are partnered up in this little porno operation.
He does the filming, the editing and the computer work and you bring him the girls.
And if they won’t come willingly, well then that’s what the gun is for, right?”

“Your theory sucks,” I told him.

“It fits,” Stone said, with a shrug.
“It’s enough to charge you and toss you into County with all the other maggots.
How’d that be?”

“I am not in business with
Jackson
!” I shouted.
“I was hired—“

“Your fingerprints are all over his
fucking
basement!” Stone yelled back at me.

I stopped right there.
Stone was bluffing.
There was no way they had lifted and processed my prints so quickly.
But it didn’t matter.
Stone wasn’t going to listen to me and he wouldn’t let Matsuda really listen, either.

“I want a l
awyer,” I said to Matsuda.

Matsuda pressed his lips together in frustration, but said nothing.

I
turned to Stone.
“And you can go straight to hell.”

6
1

I thought they might just book me straight into jail.
In fact, I was pretty much petrified that they would.
Stone was right about that.
But he didn’t leave me any choice but to lawyer up.
He wasn’t going to listen.

When they left me in the interrogation room for another forty minutes, waiting for a lawyer, I was surprised.
Maybe Stone thought he’d let me stew and then come and make another pass at me, even though it violated the hell out of my Constitutional
rights
.
Stone was the kind of guy that viewed those rights as an obstacle, something that criminals hid behind.
It never occurred to him that they were in place to protect people like me from cops like him.

I was glad my back was to the door.
Every time I heard the scuffle of feet stop at the observation window in the door, the hair on the back of my neck bristled.
The word was definitely out that
I
'd
been
brought in.

When the door opened, I sat still.
Then I caught her fragrance and I knew who it was before
I ever saw her
.

“Stef,” she whispered and sat down.
“What the hell is going on?”

I shook my head.
“It’s all messed up, Katie.
No one will listen to me.”

“It’s not true, is it?” she asked, her eyes unsure of me.
“You didn’t use me to find some girl so you could put her on the Internet, did you?”

My gut twisted.
“No.
How can you even think that?”

She gave me a look that said a hundred things at once. That she didn’t want to believe it, but she could
n’t
quite not believe it. That I’d hurt her. That maybe she still cared but that she couldn’t let herself still care.

Or hell, maybe I saw those things in her eyes because I wanted to
see some of them
.

“Katie,
I called you because I needed help finding that girl for her father.
Just like I told you at lunch.
That’s the truth.
”

She
bit her lip.
“They’re saying your prints are all over the basement where they made these movies.
That you had pictures
on you when they arrested you
.”

I sighed.
“I broke in to his house, all right?
”

“You
broke
in?”

I nodded.
“Yeah.
I broke in looking for her
and
instead,
I found his little porno den downstairs.”

“
What about
th
os
e pictures?”

I nodded.
“I found those, too, and I took them.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to erase her existence from his life.
Wash it away.”

She stared at me.
“I want to believe you, Stef.
But…”

“Then believe me,” I said.
“
Look, Katie. Matt Sinderling is
Kris’s father
. He
hired me to find her.
Call him and ask.
He’ll vouch for me.”

She didn’t reply. I knew what she was wondering. How did I end up at Roger Jackson’s house with Kris in my car?
“
After I talked to you, I worked East Sprague because of the FI
,” I explained
.
“
I talked to someone—“

“The pimp?
Rolo?”

I shook my head
.
“It doesn’t matter
.
I
found out
about
Jackson
and the movies he was making
.
I went to
Jackson
’s house
. He wasn’t there. So I
broke in, looking for Kris or some sign of where she was.
That’s what happened.”

“Was he home at the time?”

“No,” I said.
“Well, not at first.
He eventually came home.
We had some words and he told me where to find Kris.”

“And you went and got her.”

“Yeah.
Is this an official interrogation?
Because if it is, I
guess I
just copped to a first degree burg.
”

An expression of genuine hurt
sprang onto her face.
“No,” she said.
“Stone w
ould
pitch a
fit if he knew
I came in here to talk to you.”

“Sorry.”

Katie paused, staring at me and biting her lip.
“Why’d you go back to his house, Stef?
I don’t understand that.”

I stared at Katie for a long time, wondering if I could trust her and if she could trust me.
In the end,
I realized it didn’t matter either way.
I said, “I had to let
Jackson
know it was over between him and Kris.
And for him to leave her alone.”

Katie looked at me.
I could see she hadn’t made up her mind yet.
I looked back at her, feeling like someone had kicked me in the stomach.
That moment suddenly became the worst moment of my life since the day Amy Dugger died.

“Your lawyer is on the way,” she told me
, a touch icily
.
“Since when did you become friendly with Joel Harrity?”

Joel Harrity was the gadfly lawyer in River City, one who was frequently bringing charges of police brutality and illegal police searches against the department.
He stopped short of characterizing cops as malicious, but he wasn’t afraid to call them inept or deliberately sloppy and he frequently did both.
When I was on the job, I hated him.
After I left the job, I figured out that he was never talking about me when he made those accusations.
They didn’t apply, at least not until the Amy Dugger case.
I also learned that he was a hell of a good lawyer and more importantly, that he had the prosecutor’s ear.

“I’m not friendly with him
,” I told her
.
“
I need a good lawyer.
He’s a good lawyer.”

“He a parasite,” Katie said with a scowl.

I shrugged.
“He’ll fix this mess for me.”

She didn’t reply.

The
re was another long silence.
I finally broke it, saying, “I’m not going to tell them about you helping me, Katie.
You don’t have to worry about that.”

She didn’t answer for a long while.
Finally, she muttered, “
Thanks
,”
then
stood up and left the room.

6
2

Joel
Harrity was older than his picture.
I’d seen it in the newspape
r and on a couple of billboards. T
he shot they usually used had to be at least ten years old.
His jet black hair had strands of gray throughout and his sharply etched face was a little softer.
But his eyes were just as shrewd and his voice was melodious and comforting.
I imagined him using it to woo a jury and could see why he was so successful.

We’d spoken for almost an hour.
At first, he asked a lot of questions and wrote down everything.
As the hour progressed, he stopped writing except for the occasional note and hardly interrupted at all.
When I was finished, he sighed.

“We’re in a tough spot,” he said.

He was looking at me as if waiting for a response, so I said, “No shit, counselor.”

Harrity
didn’t
smi
le
.
“I just want you to be clear.
By your admission, you’ve committed three burglaries, all of them first degree because of the assaults and, of course, the firearm—“

“Wait a minute.
Three?”

He counted off on his fingers.
“Gary LeMond’s fenced back yard,
Roger
Jackson
’s house and the apartment Kris Sinderling was living in.”

“That last one is pretty weak.”

“True, and from the sounds of it, she won’t be choosing to press any charges.
Still, I’m only going over the facts.
You did those crimes.
You also failed to report LeMond’s affair with the girl
,
Yvette.
That doesn’t make us any friends.”

“If I hadn’t promised not to dime him out,
” I explained, “
he’d never have told me about Kris.”

Harrity nodded.
“Which he, in fact, did not do.
He lied.
I would say that was a breach of oral contract on his part.”

I smiled at his choice of words, imagining Rolo and Harrity sitting down and talking about the legalities of contract breaches.

Harrity
seemed to notice my smile, but decided to ignore it. He
co
ntinued without missing a beat.
“The police raided
Jackson
’s house and found his film-making setup, as well as his website server.
According to what little they are telling me,
Jackson
looked like he’d been in a fight.
When they swept through the house, he was in the basement, deleting files off of his computer.
I spoke to his lawyer—“

“He lawyered up?”

Harrity nodded.
“Immediately.
Which is what you should’ve done, by the way.
His lawyer is a guy I went through law school with at Gonzaga.
He told me that his client is not intending to submit to any interviews or make any statements.
He won’t mention your name.
He doesn’t care about the burglary or the assault.
Unless, of course, the police come to him with a signed statement from you giving up him and LeMond.”

I thought about that.
“He was deleting files when the cops took the door?”

“Yes.”

That meant he got free of my duct taping.
“What’d he say to the S.W.A.T. boys about the duct tape on the dining room chair?”

“I don’t know for sure.
I think it was something along the lines that they could go screw themselves.”
Harrity’s expression was flat.

I thought some more.
“So I can
completely ignore
the B & E at
Jackson
’s house and he won’t press charges?”

“I believe so,” Harrity said with a nod.
“Of course, the State can always decide to pursue the case, anyway, as with all felonies, but –“

“No victim, no crime,” I said, a familiar old mantra that had closed out more than one call for service in my other life.

“Right.
And I doubt they could get enough probable cause for a charge without his testimony or a confession from you.
”
He paused a beat, then added, “Which I strongly discourage, by the way.”

No kidding, I thought.
Then I asked,
“Why would
Jackson
do that, though?
I mean, he can’t entirely save himself by giving me up but he could
probably
help himself out.
And if he gave up LeMond, too…”

Harrity shrugged.
“Not my concern.
The fact is that his attorney is good to his word, and if I am to represent you, we will be as well.
It is a wash between you and
Roger
Jackson
.”

“How much time will he get if he’s convicted?”

“I have no idea.”

“Come on,” I said.
“How much?
Ballpark.”

Harrity leaned back and looked at the ceiling.
“Well, if Kris Sinderling doesn’t testify and if none of the other girls are underage or if they refuse to testify, his attorney could probably make a successful argument as to lack of knowledge and lack of intent.”

“So he’ll say that he didn’t know they were underage?”

“Pretty much.
And if it looks like it’s going to go that way, the DA may deal the case.
If it plea
bargains out, and
Jackson
is a first
-
time offender…say seven years or so.”

“Of which he s
erve
s
three and a half?”

“Maybe.
The judge might suspend all but a year and throw him in County for a year.
He’ll get a third of that off for good time.”

“Nine months.”

“Best case scenario, yeah.
If it plea
bargains out.”

“And if it goes to trial?”

Harrity shook his head.
“That’s
always
a crap
shoot.”

I nodded my head and took a deep breath.
I understood
Jackson
’s reasoning now.
He had something more than a hundred thousand dollars sitting in an offshore account waiting for him when he got out.
If he had been smart with setting up the account, the cops would never find it.
He’d plead the case, do his little stint in jail and then blow town.

“What about LeMond?” Harrity asked me.

“What about him?”

“Do you still feel bound by any promise to him?”

“I promised Kris,” I said.
“That’s the only promise that counts.”

“Well,” Harrity said, “that little girl asked for her
dad
and a lawyer the minute they got her to the station.
She is refusing to say a word about anything to the police.”

“So LeMond gets a walk,” I said.

Harrity shrugged.
“From what you told me, he’ll leave town.
Even if he doesn’t, his business dealings with
Roger
Jackson
are through.
And his dealings with students will come to light sooner or later.
Things like that always do.”

I thought about what he said.
He was probably right.
Yvette or some girl just like her would tell the right person
at some point. T
hen it would all come out and LeMond’s goose would be cooked.
Or the cops might find something at
Jackson
’s to link them together.
All of that was beyond my control.
I promised Kris I wouldn’t say anything about LeMond.
That was it.

“Will they charge me, do you think?” I asked Harrity.
“After Sinderling tells them he hired me and
Jackson
tells them to pound sand?”

“I don’t know,” Harrity said.
“You did have what is technically child pornography in your pocket when they arrested you.”

“You can’t be serious.
Those pictures were tame.”
That was true.
None of the photos actually showed any nudity.
Even so, I felt dirty and ashamed as I made the excuse.

Harrity shrugged. “I
should
be able to convince them to drop that charge.
It’d be weak at best, anyway, and
even though you’re not a license
d
private investigator,
y
ou took them as part of your investigation.
But there’s the gun charge to worry about, too.”

I’d forgotten about that.
“Misdemeanor?”

“You’re not a convicted felon are you?”

“No.”

“Any domestic violence convictions?”

“No convictions ever.”

“Then yes, it’s a misdemeanor.”

“We won’t beat the rap on that charge,” I observed, tapping my fingers.

Harrity shook his head.
“Not a chance.
They had a valid search warrant and you were in front of the house.
I might have had a decent argument that you were unconnected to the residence, if it weren’t for the fingerprints you left all over inside of the place.”

“So we plead that one?”

“That would be my advice, yes.”

“What’s the sentencing guideline for that charge?”

“
You could get up to a year, but the standard range is thirty to ninety days. Most of that can be suspended, though.
”

“What’s your best guess
?”

“Less than thirty days.”

“How sure are you of all this?” I asked him.

“I am certain of none of it,” Harrity answered.
“But I’m pretty confident about all of it.”

I took a deep breath and let it out.
“A month
in County Jail
, huh
?”