The 7th Victim - Alan Jacobson [60]
That was exactly what she felt like doing. But voicing her desires would surely land her in a heap of trouble. “I’m not going to do anything of the sort. I’m going to steer clear of him.”
Vail’s hesitation was not lost on Harrison, apparently, as he shook his head. “You waited just a tad too long for me there, Agent Vail. I’m reasonably sure you’re not going to do anything foolish, but you own a gun, you’re skilled in using it, there’s substantial bad blood between the two of you, and you’ve already demonstrated to me you have the potential for violence if the situation presents itself. I’m going to help you out here, Agent, though I doubt you’re going to see it that way.”
Harrison pulled another form from his desk, signed it, and handed it through the slot to Greenwich. “Fill it out, Officer. She’s got a seventy-two-hour EPO slapped on her.” He looked at Vail. “A cooling off period, to think about your actions. Guilty of the charges or not, you’re better off staying away from Deacon Tucker.”
Vail sighed through pursed lips and shook her head. Could this day get any worse?
“One other note, Agent. Consider it another favor. Get yourself the very best defense attorney you can afford. Misdemeanor Domestic Violence/Assault is not something to fool around with. You get convicted, it’s not just a measly misdemeanor. Under the new law, it’s taken very seriously. You’ll lose the ability to carry a weapon. That’s Federal law, not Virginia code. You’ll lose your job. Plain as that.”
Vail closed her eyes. Her day had, in fact, just gotten worse.
“As to the issue of bond,” Harrison said, “I already know your occupation, which gives me your income level, lack of prior criminal history, and your flight risk, which I deem to be minimal. Not if you have hopes of keeping your job.” He wrote something on a document, signed it, and lifted the glasses off his face. He closed the file. “Five hundred dollar secured bond is hereby granted. Thank you, Officer.”
Greenwich turned to Vail, who was still staring at the glass window in disbelief. “I left my purse in the car. I don’t have any money with me.”
“Then that phone call I promised you earlier will come in pretty handy.” He forced a smile, then led her out of the intake booth.
twenty-five
“The jail cell was six-by-eight, Robby. A cinderblock room with a tiny window.”
Robby took his eyes off the road to glance at Vail. “I know, I’ve seen them.”
It was a few minutes past two in the morning and they were on I-395, headed toward the task force op center to pick up her car—and her purse. The winding, tree-canopied road was nature at its best during the day, but eerie on a winter night, when the headlights caught the barren, low-lying branches as the car sped beneath them.
“If I didn’t have claustrophobia before, I probably have it now.” Vail shivered, then pulled her seat belt away from her chest, as if it had renewed the confining sensation of the jail cell. “What a horrible experience. It took them three hours to get a phone over to me.”
“Three hours?”
“There were a shitload of prisoners all waiting their turn on two phones. They cut me some slack here and there, gave me the red carpet treatment—if there is such a thing in the slammer—but even with that it took forever to get a line.”
“Sorry it took me so long to get here.”
She waved a tired hand. “Hey, I appreciate you laying out the cash.” She leaned back against the headrest. “Hopefully the trial will go my way and I’ll be able to put it all behind me.”
“It will, Karen, everything’ll turn out.”
“It better, or I’ll need to find a new line of work.” She shut her eyes, tried to force the thoughts of disaster from her mind. “Tomorrow I have to find a good lawyer. Magistrate said I should hire the best I can afford. I feel like vomiting over the thought of having to hire a defense attorney. They’re vermin.”
“Just keep things in perspective. Focus your energy. There are more important things to deal with right now.”
Robby