Law of Attraction (27 page)

“Well, how about this,” she proposed. “What if we just get a paternity test? Let’s see if Green is the father of Laprea’s baby. Then we can put it to rest one way or the other.”

“What?” Jack was looking at her as if she’d just claimed to have seen Bigfoot.

“If it turns out Green is the father, then we’ve uncovered the truth, and we’ll deal with it, hard as it might be on our case. That’s our job. If it turns out to be nothing, great. It just makes the case stronger. It shows that the government investigated D’marco’s allegations, we took steps to confirm or deny it. It shows we’re acting in good faith.”

“That’s exactly wrong,” Jack countered. “If we DNA-test Green, it will just suggest we might believe Davis’s bullshit story. And when it comes back negative, that won’t disprove Davis’s story, unless you plan on DNA-testing every other police officer on the force. Are you going to swab every officer on the Metropolitan Police Department? And how would you even do that? With thirty-five hundred search warrants? Based on a street rumor Davis claims he heard? You don’t have probable cause for any of them—you don’t even have PC for Green.”

Anna nodded. It was a valid point.

“Look, Anna,” Jack said gently. “We know who did it—and so does his attorney. There’s no way Nick Wagner would be trying to plead his client guilty if he had any kind of a viable defense—especially one involving a police scandal. Wagner would be all over that. If there were any truth to that story, he’d be pounding the table, demanding to interview police officers about where they were the night of Laprea’s death, and leaking it all to the press. He’d make a whole sideshow of it. But he’s not. He’s telling D’marco to plead guilty. That tells you how meritless this claim is. I understand you’re shaken up by what happened, but don’t get suckered into wasting your time and energy on this. You have enough to do without chasing down Davis’s fantasies that his own lawyer can’t be bothered with.”

Anna walked silently next to Jack. She had also wondered why Nick wasn’t making a big deal of the police angle, since his client apparently told him about it. She concluded that he didn’t know what she knew—he hadn’t seen how friendly and familiar Green had been at the Johnson house. He had no reason to suspect Green.

She considered Jack’s arguments—they were all fair points and she understood his reasoning. But she just couldn’t get the possibility out of her mind.

26

W
hen they got to the office, Jack and Anna were greeted like celebrities. As Anna badged her way through the lobby turnstiles, someone among the morning bustle cried out, “There she is!” The entire lobby seemed to turn toward her.

“Hey, Anna!” exclaimed a vaguely familiar lawyer from the district court section. They’d never spoken before. “How’re you
doing
?”

“Okay,” she replied cautiously, walking to the elevator bank.

“Good for you, for coming in today,” said a secretary carrying a McDonald’s bag.

“Um, thanks.”

Anna turned to Jack, wondering how everyone had found out. He shrugged. They rode the elevator up, and he walked her protectively to her office. Grace was already there, poring over a newspaper spread on her desk. When Anna walked in, Grace sprang out of her seat.

“Hey, can I get your autograph?” Grace hopped over the files scattered on the floor and grabbed Anna into a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered.

“How’d you hear?” Anna asked when Grace let her go.

“You’re famous.”

Grace pointed to the front page of the
Washington Post
’s Metro section on her desk. “Federal Prosecutor Attacked in Her Home,” the headline read. Anna picked it up with astonishment. Jack stood behind her and they skimmed it together. As Jack read the paper over Anna’s shoulder, Grace noticed how close together they were standing and arched her eyebrows.

The
Post
had a picture of Anna’s house, with D’marco’s mug shot and her law school yearbook picture inset in it. The article hit all the highlights, talking about how D’marco escaped from the ambulance, forced his way into her home, but was caught before anyone was hurt. The paper didn’t mention that the first cavalry that came galloping in
was Jack’s ragtag group of off-duty cops. Anna tossed the paper back onto Grace’s desk.

“That was fast,” Anna said.

“But not surprising,” Jack replied. “There was a lot of activity on the police scanners. This is big local news. There are murders every week, but a full-fledged prison escape and attack on a prosecutor only happens every few decades.” Jack looked at his watch. “I have to be in court soon.” He turned to Anna. “D’marco will be arraigned on the new charges this morning. Escape, Assault, B&E, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Should I come, too?”

“Only if you’re ready for your close-up. There will be press.” She shook her head. “Then stay here. You obviously won’t be assigned to the new case—you’re the victim of it.”

“Right.”

“Now, I want you to take it easy today. Nothing more strenuous than redacting witness statements. Grace, I’m counting on you to make sure she relaxes.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” Grace said. “But I’ll give it my best shot.”

Jack smiled and walked out.

Grace ceremoniously cleared a path through her piles of paper and Jimmy Choos, and Anna sank gratefully into her desk chair. Grace was dying to hear the details, so Anna told her everything that had happened last night. Grace oohed and aahed over the story. It sounded a lot better in the telling than it had felt in the happening. Anna realized she had her first great war story.

“So,” Anna concluded. “After all the dust cleared, I was left wondering if Officer Green might be the father of Laprea’s child.”

“Girl, that cop is a dog,” Grace said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he put the moves on Laprea
and
her mother.” Anna was heartened that Grace didn’t think she was crazy for suspecting Green. “But you’re not concentrating on the most interesting part of your story. You were a modern-day damsel in distress. Only your Prince Charming rode in to save you in a Yellow Cab.”

Anna felt her cheeks reddening.

“So . . .” Grace looked at Anna coyly. “How are things going with Jack?”

“Good.” Anna could put on a neutral voice even if she couldn’t control the blood flow to her cheeks. “He’s an excellent lawyer.”

“I know that, my dear. What I’m asking is: How are things going with Jack?”

“Okay, Miss Nosy Pants. If you must know—”

“Yes?” Grace leaned forward.

“Nothing’s going on.”

“Oh, come on! A good-looking single man, a beautiful single woman, hours spent alone together, and . . . nothing?”

“Nope.”

“Is it because he’s your boss?”

“Yes, it’s because he’s my boss! Haven’t you watched the sexual harassment video? He’s a supervisor. I’m not even allowed to give him a gift worth more than ten dollars.”

“Actually, he’s not your boss,” Grace corrected her. “Carla is. Evaluations, promotions, everything goes through Carla. Correct?”

“Actually, that’s . . . that’s true.”

“He doesn’t have any supervisory authority over you.”

“Hm. Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. Now, you might catch a little flack from the sisters for taking a good black man off the market. But it won’t be too bad, I would think. And I can give you some cover there.”

“Okay, enough matchmaking!” Anna protested, laughing. “Remember, I’m the victim of a crime. I’m traumatized. I need a seaweed wrap and a Swedish massage, not an interrogation about my love life.”

“That’s my girl!” Grace said proudly; she’d introduced Anna to the concept of seaweed wraps.

Grace picked up the phone, dialed a number she knew by heart, and made an appointment at the Red Door Spa for the two of them that weekend. When she hung up, she handed Anna a Post-it note with their appointment time written on it.

“Just let me know if anything develops,” Grace said. “Personally, I would love to see it happen—you and Jack are two of the best people I know.”

“Thanks, Grace.”

Anna loved her friend fiercely in that moment.

At nine o’clock, Grace had to go to court. Anna sat back and gazed around her empty office. It was the first time she’d been truly alone since D’marco had pushed his way into her house. She felt less shaken than she’d thought she would. Being at Jack’s last night had taken the edge off of her jitters.

She pulled out some witness statements and a thick black marker. She would black out the witnesses’ home addresses and personal information before turning the papers over to the defense. Redacting this kind of paperwork was an important part of protecting witnesses, but it was mindless work. She knew Jack had her doing it today to give her a break.

But she couldn’t concentrate on the work. Her mind kept going back to D’marco’s words, and Officer Green. It just wasn’t sitting right.

Okay, she decided after she read the same police form three times without processing it, she would do a little research. There was no harm in that.

She got up and quietly shut the office door. It took only a few minutes on the Department of Justice intranet to find the phone number for the FBI’s DNA laboratory. A brisk female voice answered. Anna explained that she was an AUSA, and that she needed to talk to a DNA analyst. The line was transferred, and a man with a nasal voice answered.

“Hi,” Anna started, then paused. She had never dealt with DNA before—it was too expensive and complicated to be used in misdemeanor cases. She wasn’t sure where to start. “I have a case where I want to find out who’s the father of a child. Actually, the father of a fetus, an aborted fetus. How would I go about doing that?”

The analyst explained that Anna would need to send samples from the fetus, the mother, and the suspected father to the FBI laboratory. They would determine everyone’s DNA profile. Then the profiles would all be compared, and the FBI could tell to a near certainty whether the man had fathered the child.

“The FBI already determined the DNA profile for the mother and the fetus,” Anna explained.

“If we already have the mother and the child’s profile, then you’ll just need a sample from the possible father.”

“A blood sample?”

“No. Paternity tests used to require blood. But these days, we just need a buccal swabbing.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a fancy way of saying you run a Q-tip over the inner cheek. To collect saliva. If we have the man’s saliva, we have his DNA.”

“And how long does the whole process take?”

“There’s a bit of a backlog. I’d say three to four months.”

That sounded long to Anna. They seemed to get it done a lot faster on
CSI.

Anna thanked the analyst and hung up. She sat back in her chair and gazed out the window, chewing the end of her pen while she thought. How could she get a buccal swabbing from Green, without a warrant? Anna’s mind raced through the possibilities, all of which seemed unlikely. Then she took the pen out of her mouth and held it in front of her face, rolling it around in her fingers as she studied it. A patina of spittle glistened on the cap.

She had an idea. She picked up the phone again.

•  •  •

An hour later, Anna sat waiting at a little table in the Firehook Bakery. The coffee shop was midway between her office and the courthouse, a perfect meeting spot. But the waiting was giving her time to second-guess her plan. Was she really going to do this? It didn’t violate the man’s rights. But it was sneaky and not in the spirit of people who were supposed to be on the same team. He was a nice guy. Still, she reasoned, it wouldn’t hurt him physically, and the only way he would ever find out was if he had actually done something wrong. Anna was somewhat comforted by the fact that Grace agreed that her suspicions were reasonable.

Her cell phone rang. She looked at the incoming number with surprise. It was Nick. He hadn’t called her cell phone since this case had started. She certainly couldn’t talk to him right now. She let the call go through to voice mail. But then, as she continued to wait, she couldn’t suppress her curiosity. She dialed in for the voice message.

Nick’s voice sounded beaten. “Hi, Anna. I just got out of D’marco’s presentment. I heard about everything that happened last night. I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked. “I’m just so damned sorry. I’m going to the Irish Times now. Will you come meet me? Please. Let me apologize in person.”

She didn’t have time to process Nick’s message beyond making a mental note of where he said he’d be—the Irish Times was a restaurant and pub down the street from the courthouse—because she spotted Green walking toward the shop. She dropped her phone back in her purse. She felt a twinge of guilt just seeing the officer. Could she really go through with this? She stood up and got in the line to order drinks. She’d soon find out.

She had just reached the cash register when Green opened the door, letting in a blast of cold November air.

“Hi, Officer Green,” she called to him as he walked in. She was surprised at how natural her voice sounded. “Cuppa joe?”

“No thanks,” he answered. Anna realized that he got so much free coffee as a cop, her offer held little temptation for him.

“I can’t drink alone,” she said, trying not to sound desperate. “What’ll it be?”

He shrugged. “Small coffee.”

She ordered two small coffees. When she handed one of the hot paper cups to Green, she felt like the witch handing the poison apple to Snow White. He thanked her and took it over to the table with all the fixings. Green poured two Equals and lots of skim milk into his cup. Anna wondered if he was trying to lose weight.

“So, how
are
you?” he asked as he stirred his coffee. His usual smile was tinged with concern.

“Fine, fine.”

“I heard what happened last night.” He put the lid back on and clapped her on the shoulder. “What a scare! I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks.”

Oh, man, she thought, he was being nice. It made her feel guiltier.

Anna pointed to the little table where she’d been sitting. “Do you have a second? I’ll tell you about these subpoenas.”