He looked up at me with bloodshot eyes. “My wife and I barely talk. I can’t work. My boss has threatened to fire me. Some days Gretchen’s all I think about. And then, just for a while, she slips my mind. I get a little rest, and then something like this shows up in the mailbox. What do they want, Dr. Cross? Why are they doing this?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But you need to take the drive straight to the FBI. I’ve been cut out of the loop because of my trial.”
He continued to look at me, his face wretched. “You can’t help me?”
“I want to,” I said, sitting down across from him and leaning forward, my elbows on my knees, hands clasped. “Mr. Lindel, I want to help find your daughter and the other missing women in the worst way. I really do. But the ugly truth is, given my situation, I’m afraid I’d be more of a hindrance than a help to you. I hope you understand, sir. I’m not much good to you at the moment.”
He didn’t understand, not really. He got up, looking abandoned.
“You were our last chance,” Lindel said, defeated. “But I wish you luck in your trial.”
Feeling helpless, I shook his hand. “Don’t give up. They’re keeping Gretchen alive, which means there is hope you’ll see her again. But the FBI can’t find her if you’re not turning over things like this flash drive.”
He nodded. “I’ll take it straight to their office.”
When Lindel left, I went back into my office and collapsed on the couch. I felt bad, but what choice did I have? I couldn’t have gotten Rawlins or Batra to expedite an analysis of the flash. They thought I was a killer.
My cell phone rang. It was Anita Marley.
“Alex,” she said. “I’ve got bad news. Judge Larch is in the hospital. Possible stroke.”
“What?” I said, shocked. “Whe
n?”
“She was taken to GW last night,” Marley said. “They got drugs into her fast, so they’re hopeful, and they’re running more tests.”
I shook my head, seeing little Judge Larch striding up onto the bench in a way that made her seem ten feet tall, larger than life. A stroke?
I said, “What if she can’t go on?”
Anita sighed. “It will be a mistrial.”
I shut my eyes. “And months before any kind of verdict.”
“Let’s wait to hear the diagnosis.”
“I’ve got some bad news too,” I said. “The videos weren’t monkeyed with. At least, according to the metadata.”
There was a pause. “And how do you know that?”
“A well-placed source in the FBI told me last night.”
When Anita spoke again, she was irritated. “And you didn’t think it smart to alert me or Naomi? We’ve lost twelve, maybe fifteen hours of—”
“The news was pretty devastating. I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”
She sighed and said, “Well, I’m trying. My people are still working on those videos despite what the FBI tells you. And I do have a bit of good news. The saliva tests are done. I’ve put in a call to an old chemist friend in San Francisco just to make sure I’m interpreting the results correctly, but let’s just say they’re interesting.”
“Can they clear me?”
“Given our inability to impeach the videos, no, it’s not enough. But if I’m right, with luck, we’ll be able to muddy the prosecution’s waters a bit, show there were mitigating circumstances.”
I started kneading my forehead and said, “Mitigating circumstances? Sounds to me as if I should be getting my affairs in order.”
There was a long pause before Anita said, “Always better to be prepared.”
CHAPTER