“What do we do?” Kira asked. Then she looked to her attorney.
“There’s evidence,” Peter Arian said. “From what I’m hearing from you, I’m assuming it’s the baseball bat. That could be damaging. The sheriff wouldn’t give me that, so we’re better off now that I know. And they haven’t charged you. Either of you. I’m assuming the prosecuting attorney called off the sheriff, and for good reason: he didn’t like the evidence. Or, it could be that they’re awaiting more lab results, or witnesses. Or it could be your standing in the community. You’re something of a celebrity,” he said to Kira. “They may simply be waiting for it all to come together. That’s important for us to consider. What’s equally important is that both of you lay out exactly what you remember. That you write it down exactly as you remember it. I will be the only one in possession of those documents. If charges are filed, I can apply for access to the evidence. If the sheriff is building a case against the two of you, that’s more complicated and will take more time. At some point he’ll attempt to get one of you to turn on the other. It’s a pretty straightforward approach. I will need to be there for those interviews.”
“It wasn’t me outside the cottage,” Fiona said. “I’m willing to bet I was inside, lying on the floor unconscious, although I don’t know that for sure.”
“That’s a big bet,” Arian said. “I’m not sure that’s a bet you want to make.”
“Well, it wasn’t me,” Kira said. “I saw it. I didn’t do it.”
“No other cars?” Arian asked Kira.
“Not that I saw. And I didn’t hear the gate beep.”
“They can make a case that it was one or the other of you, or that, as you say the sheriff is thinking, that it was both of you, and you’re covering for each other.”
“But it’s not true,” Kira said.
Arian’s face sagged. “This is the law we’re talking about. Truth is only one small part of the equation.” He waited a moment for this to sink in. “Your parents have asked you to stay with them?”
Kira nodded. They’d discussed this earlier on the drive up. “But I don’t want to.”
Fiona spoke up. “Kira, you should do it. Maybe this is the chance you’ve been waiting for.”
“I don’t want to see him.”
“What if your father’s changed?”
“He doesn’t change.”
“We all change,” Fiona said, “if others give us the chance to.”
Kira nodded faintly. “But only for tonight.”
“Don’t be too quick to judge,” Fiona advised.
“I don’t want to leave you.”
“I’ve got stuff to work out,” Fiona said. “Stuff to write down. I’ll be all right.”
“I can drop you off,” Arian proposed.
“I’ll get my things,” Kira said, standing and reluctantly letting go of Fiona’s hand.
“What do you make of all this?” Fiona asked Arian when they were alone.
“Do you believe her?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
“And how do you know you went over a stool? What if your injury occurred outside your cottage?”
“You think that didn’t occur to me?”
“Do you think it’s possible?”
“Did I hate him that much? Yes, I did. Could I do something like that? Never.”
“Never’s a big word.”
“Never,” Fiona repeated.
Arian dug out his wallet, and from it, a business card. “In case you need me.”
“I don’t.”
“But in case you do,” he said.
Fiona accepted the card.
48
A Disney Channel Original Movie played from the living room as Walt worked the computer at the dining-room table. Tied in to his office’s server, he was finishing up the report on the Fancelli arrest. He’d already been in touch with AUSA in Boise, who’d promised Walt the Wildlife Act charge would hold. Walt believed that with some backroom discussion he might get Fancelli the maximum sentence of a fine and a year in jail. Small payment for his real crime, but at least something.
The search of the Fancelli home had failed to turn up any suggestion of child molestation or abuse—no souvenirs, no videos—but the man’s arrest included a mandatory DNA swab—this had been the golden ring Walt had been reaching for—and he hoped within the week to use that sample to prove the paternity of his daughter’s unborn child. Fancelli would be going away for a lot longer than a year. As he wrapped up the report, he was feeling good for a change and thinking that this was one of the good nights.
“Hey, Dad,” Nikki called from the living room. It had to be a commercial break because typically