Chương 2
The routing sheet bore three sets of initials.
One belonged to Adrian.
The others belonged to a records supervisor at Riverpoint Residential and Victor himself.
Victor was led through the doors. No one spoke until they closed behind him.
Then the room released its breath all at once.
Judge Ross ordered a recess and directed the clerk to secure every page from the floor. He warned the lawyers, the gallery, and the press that the sealed materials remained under protective order. His voice was stern, but Elena noticed the way he pressed two fingers against his temple after speaking. He was seventy-three and had spent thirty-one years on the bench. He had probably imagined many endings to his career. Presiding over the arrest of a former bar association president was unlikely to have been one of them.
“Elena.”
Ruth’s voice was low.
Elena turned.
“Did you know he was going to do that?”
“Tear the document?”
“Get arrested.”
“I knew a warrant application had been submitted.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Elena looked at the photograph in Ruth’s hands. “I thought it was possible.”
“You could’ve told me.”
“The court sealed the application. I wasn’t allowed to.”
“You always have a reason.”
The words were not loud, but they found the bruise that was already waiting for them.
Ruth stood and slipped the picture into her purse. She was a short woman with gray beginning at her temples and the solid arms of someone who had spent twenty-six years lifting boxes at a grocery distribution center. She had trusted Elena with the story of Mateo’s last phone call. She had trusted her with photographs of his body. She had sat through depositions while Victor’s associates asked whether Mateo had been drinking, whether he had disabled the smoke detector, whether his mother had exaggerated the condition of the Riverpoint building because she wanted money.
Now she looked at Elena as if wondering what else had been kept from her.
“I need some air,” Ruth said.
The gallery was emptying. Reporters waited beyond the doors. Elena reached for Ruth’s sleeve, then stopped before touching her.
“Use the private conference room,” she said. “Miriam will take you through the side hall.”
“You coming?”
“The judge asked counsel to remain.”
Ruth nodded once. It was not forgiveness. It was acknowledgment.
Miriam Sloane appeared beside them. At fifty-eight, she had the economical movements of someone who disliked wasting time even when time was all she had. She wore a navy suit and carried two pairs of reading glasses, one in her bag and one usually misplaced in her office.
“I’ll stay with her,” Miriam said.
Her eyes moved to Elena’s hand. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s on your blouse.”
Elena looked down. A bright dot had reached the soft gray fabric beneath her blazer cuff.
Miriam took a tissue from her bag and handed it over. “Press.”
Ruth walked away without waiting.
Miriam watched her go, then lowered her voice. “Did Adrian tell you Victor would take the binder?”
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
“No.”
“Did you provoke him?”
Elena stared at her.
“I have to ask.”
“You saw what happened.”
“I saw the end of six months of pressure in fifteen seconds. The disciplinary committee will ask what came before it.”
“He destroyed evidence in front of a judge.”
“He destroyed a copy. You made that clear enough for every phone in the room.”
Elena pressed the tissue against her knuckle. “You think I planned the spectacle?”
“I think you planned for something.”
“Yes. I planned for him to challenge the document. I lodged the original with the clerk and brought a stamped receipt.”
“And placed a decoy page on top?”
“A duplicate routing sheet.”
Miriam closed her eyes briefly.
“What?”
“That was clever.”
“You say that like it’s a diagnosis.”
“Today it might be.”
The courtroom clerk called counsel toward the bench. Miriam went to find Ruth. Elena walked forward with the cream envelope still in her hand.
Adrian remained at the defense table.
Without Victor beside him, he looked younger than thirty-six and more exhausted than anyone Elena had seen in a suit. His short black hair had been flattened on one side, as if he had slept against a car window. He kept adjusting the cuff of his open-collar navy shirt beneath his blazer.
“You should have left,” Elena told him quietly.
“I was subpoenaed.”
“I mean months ago.”
He looked at her then. “That’s easy to say from your side.”
“You think there are sides left?”
“There are always sides.”
Judge Ross returned before Elena could answer.
The lawyers gathered around the bench. The microphones were switched off. The judge told them the original file would remain sealed pending an independent privilege review. The civil trial, scheduled to begin the following Monday, was stayed for ten days. No one was to contact Adrian except through counsel. No one was to discuss the warrant affidavit publicly.
The corporate defendant’s second-chair lawyer, Daniel Kessler, had been silent during Victor’s arrest. Now he spoke with controlled indignation.
“Your Honor, Riverpoint Residential had no notice that its lead counsel was the target of a criminal investigation arising from documents allegedly taken from its legal department.”
Judge Ross looked at him over his glasses. “You had notice of the evidence-preservation order.”
“We complied with that order.”
“That statement may become difficult to maintain.”
Kessler’s mouth tightened. He was forty, careful, and loyal to Victor in the way ambitious men were loyal to ladders.
“We request immediate return of all privileged materials.”
“You may submit a privilege log by noon tomorrow.”
“Without seeing the file?”
“You created the file, according to your own representations.”
The clerk looked down to hide a reaction.
May you like
Elena said nothing. She had learned from watching Victor that a lawyer could lose ground by enjoying a judge’s irritation too visibly.
Judge Ross turned to her. “Ms. Marlowe, you will provide the court with every communication you had with Mr. Cole or anyone acting on his behalf.”
