Look Again - Lisa Scottoline [56]
“Really.” Ellen shifted forward on the chair. “So, as I said on the phone, I’m seeing you in your official capacity, and I want to pay for your time today.”
“Forget it.” Ron smiled. “You made me look like Clarence Darrow in the paper. I got tons of clients from that press. I owe you.”
“I want to pay.”
“Get to the point.” Ron gestured toward the door. “I hear the scarecrow singing. We don’t have much time.”
“Wait, let me ask you something first. Is what we say absolutely confidential?”
“Yes, of course.” Ron nodded. “How can I help you?”
Ellen hesitated. “What if a crime is involved? I didn’t commit it, but I know, or I suspect, that a crime has been committed by someone else. Can you still keep this confidential?”
“Yes.”
“So if I tell you about this crime, you wouldn’t have to report it to the police?”
“I’d be barred from so doing.”
Ellen loved the authoritative note in his voice. “Here goes. I think that Will could be a kid named Timothy Braverman, who was kidnapped in Florida two years ago.”
“Will? Your son Will?”
“Yes.”
Ron lifted a graying eyebrow. “So the crime in question is the kidnapping?”
“Yes, it was a carjacking gone wrong, and the kidnapper murdered the boy’s nanny.”
“Those are past crimes, unless we consider the fact that you retain custody of a kidnapped child as a continuing crime, which I don’t think it is. You did legally adopt him.”
“Here’s what I need to know. If Will is really Timothy, what are my legal rights? Could the Bravermans, his birth parents, take him from me? Would I have to give him up if they found out or if they came and found us? Wouldn’t it matter to the court that he lived with me for two years?” Ellen had so many questions that they ran into each other on the way out of her mouth. “That I’m the only mother he’s ever really known? Would that—”
“Please, slow down.” Ron held up his hands. “Tell me how you found this out, about Will.”
So Ellen told him the story from the beginning, showing him her adoption file, the composite drawing, and her computer printouts of Timothy and Will at their various ages. “By the way, my father thinks I’m crazy. He’s the only other person I’ve told.”
Ron studied the photographs on his desk, even placing the composite tracing over the photo enlargement of Beach Man. Finally, he looked up at her, his expression grave behind his glasses.
“What do you think?”
“You’re not crazy, but you are speculating.” Ron’s gaze remained steady. “The composite drawing is the linchpin, and you can’t support your belief that Will is Timothy Braverman by comparing the composite with a photograph. It just isn’t reliable enough. I see some similarity, but I can’t be sure it’s the same person.”
Ellen tried to process what he was saying, but her emotions kept getting in the way.
“I’m not an expert, and neither are you. Composites, as a legal matter, cannot stand alone. Any one of my first-year law students can tell you that a composite is merely an aid to the identification and apprehension of a suspect. They’re not a positive identification.” Ron shook his head. “You don’t have enough information on which to base any conclusion that Will is the kidnapped child.”
It was the same thing her father had said, only in lawyerspeak.
Ron continued, “Now, the first question you should have is whether you have an obligation to go to the authorities with your suspicion. Answer? No, you don’t.”
Ellen hadn’t even thought of that.
“The law doesn’t impose responsibility on the citizenry to report crimes that are so speculative in nature.”
“Good.”
“That’s not to say that you couldn’t voluntarily report your suspicion to the authorities, if you wished. I’m sure there are fingerprints of Timothy Braverman on file, or blood tests that could be done, or DNA analysis that would determine if Will is Timothy.” Ron tented his fingers in front of his beard and looked at her directly. “Obviously, you’re concerned that if you tell the authorities and you’re right, you would lose Will.”
Ellen couldn’t even speak, and Ron didn’t wait for an answer.