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“Go through those doors,” she said.
As he approached, a loud buzzing sound unlocked the door and Logan went through it and down the corridor. At the end, a deputy was sitting behind a plexiglass window. The officer had to walk him through the process of signing in, turning over any sharp or hazardous objects, and getting buzzed through the next door.
Simon Chamberlain greeted him on the other side. “Mr. Anthony,” he said curtly. “We’ve got your client in our interrogation room.” He turned and Logan fell in step beside him down the corridor.
“Has he been arrested?” Logan asked.
“No, sir. He’s just here for official questioning.”
Official questioning. That translated to: they wanted to arrest him but didn’t have enough information yet. Hauling him down here and making him sweat would loosen his tongue and hopefully give them enough rope to hang him with it. “Does he know he can leave at any time? That he doesn’t have to talk to you?”
Simon shrugged. “He hasn’t asked to leave or hesitated at all to answer questions. He didn’t even ask for an attorney until his wife insisted on it. You’re his lawyer, you can tell him he can leave. But we do have some questions we’d like answered and we’d rather not arrest him and make a mess of this until we’re certain. This is a delicate case.”
“And a high-pressure one to solve,” Logan noted.
“Yes, it is. We don’t get a lot of stuff like this in Rosewood. But we’ve got a good case against Mr. Kincaid.” Simon stopped outside a door that read INTERROGATION ROOM 1. “Before you haul your client out of here and clam up, you might want to see what we have to say first.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Officer Chamberlain.” Simon nodded and opened the door. Inside, Pat Kincaid was sitting at an aluminum table across from Sheriff Todd.
“Sheriff, can I have a few moments with my client?” Sheriff Todd sighed and pushed back his chair. “Would either of you like some coffee?”
“Sure, black please.” Pat said with an upbeat smile. The tall, lean man with the dark mustache didn’t seem at all concerned that he was one wrong answer away from being arrested.
Once the door shut behind them, Logan slipped into Sheriff Todd’s chair and frowned at Pat. “My name is Logan Anthony, I’m a local attorney. Your wife hired me to represent you.”
Pat shrugged. “I know. She mentioned that, but you’re just wasting your time, Mr. Anthony. This is all a big misunderstanding. That’s why I didn’t bother with coming to see you earlier.”
“You’re in the police interrogation room. I think it’s gone past a simple misunderstanding. Why didn’t you call me the minute they showed up at your house?”
He shrugged. “They said they just wanted to ask me a couple questions. No big deal.”
“ ‘No big deal’? Pat, they’re trying to nail about fifteen counts of aggravated criminal surveillance on you. That’s a Class A misdemeanor and each count can earn you up to a two-thousand-dollar fine and a year in jail. Never mind that it could land you on the sex offender list for the rest of your life.”
“They’re not going to convict me. I’m sorry Jeanette even dragged you into this thing, but I’m not the peeper.”
“As your attorney, I’m glad to hear that. But what I need is something to prove to the police that you’re not. I wish you’d come to see me before now so we could have this discussion without police swarming all around us. Tell me you have an alibi.”
“I do,” Pat said brightly.
Logan breathed a sigh of relief. “What is it?”
“I can’t tell you.”
The relief immediately faded away and tension crept back into Logan’s shoulders. “Yes, you can. I’m your attorney. We have attorney-client privilege. You can tell me anything.”
Pat wrinkled his large nose and made a sucking sound with his teeth and tongue. “I don’t know. I don’t want to get anyone else in trouble.”
“Were you doing something illegal on the nights the peeper was reported?”
“Technically, yes.”
Logan had apparently picked a winner when he chose this case. “More illegal than peeping in wome
n’s windows?”
“I don’t know the law, Mr. Anthony. I’m less worried about myself than I am about my friend. He’s doing me a favor, trying to help me out. I’d rather not get him in trouble if I don’t have to. I’m not the peeper. I’m not going to confess to a crime I did commit to avoid being prosecuted for one I didn’t. There’s got to be a way to prove my innocence without bringing my arrangement with Boyd into this.”
“There might be, but you’ve got to tell me the truth. It may not have to go beyond these walls, but I need to know where you were on all the nights in question.”
