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“Any update at all is good with me. Most of what I know about criminal law I learned on TV.”
“Yes, well…” Another one of those endless pauses. “We tend not to…have sex in elevators…as much as our onscreen brethren.”
I flash on the thought of pushing Alix up against an elevator wall. What the fuck is wrong with me?
I force myself to laugh at his little joke. “I know that on TV, they need to wrap up all the drama in an hour. But frankly, I’m confused by the pace of this case. The cops raided my house four weeks ago. The same day, they interviewed Alix and me. They sweated her for hours. But we haven’t heard a word since.”
“On TV,” Throck preaches, “the investigators…only work one case. They maintain an entire lab…dedicated to catching one bad guy…. They can run any test they desire with near…instantaneous results.”
“And in the real world?”
“In the real world…things take time…. Weeks to get DNA results.”
“Whose DNA are they testing?”
“The alleged victim…. The brothers Herzog have certainly…cooperated by providing samples of their brother’s DNA…. The police are comparing those findings to…samples from the alleged crime scene.”
From my fucking dining room.
Which was stripped to the studs to destroy every last molecule of incriminating evidence. Trying to look like an innocent man, I stare my lawyer straight in the eye and lie. “But the entire fu— freaking video was a hoax. Some sort of deep fake. Artificial intelligence. There was never any DNA to sample.”
“That’s certainly our…primary defense at the moment.”
I bull forward. “That’s been our primary defense for the past month. What I want to know is whether the prosecutor is buying it.”
“We’ve had…preliminary discussions.”
I’m tempted to take out my wallet and count out a stack of hundreds, slam them on the table, and demand that this guy start speaking at a normal pace. Instead, I force myself to ask, “What’s been the substance of those preliminary discussions?”
“I’ve explained our…theory of the case. Ms. Rodriguez has explained that she…disagrees.”
“Why doesshehave a bug up her—” I pretend to cough while I figure out a way to rephrase my question that’s fit for polite society. “Why is she so intent on making this case?”
“Ms. Rodriguez is an…up and coming star in…the District Attorney’s office. She wants to…make her name. And your case…for better or worse…is generating a lot of press.”
“That’s exactly why Alix and I want to get this behind us.”
Throck spreads his hands like he’s dealing five card stud in slow motion. “Yet another example…I’m afraid…of where our interests differ from…the District Attorney’s.”
Of course he doesn’t say “DA.” District Attorney is three syllables longer. I push a little harder. “Have you spoken with those experts I gave you?” I got three good names from Cole Wolf, one of my freeport clients. He guaranteed they’d be solid on the witness stand, every one of them capable of explaining deep fakes to a newborn.
“All in good time… All in good time.”
“When you say Rodriguez ‘disagrees’, what does that mean? That she has some sort of evidence against us? She can prove it isn’t a deep fake?”
“Lawyers have been…relying on DNA evidence for…forty years…. We’ve relied on video authentication for…half that…. We lawyers are a…suspicious bunch…. Ms. Rodriguez is…biding her time.”
“So what am I supposed to do while we’re waiting? What can I do to make sure we wrap up a trial this year?”
Throck’s laugh is a deep hooting sound, like a foghorn blowing underwater. “This year? We may be…years away from trial.”
If I have to listen to this slow-motion mouthpiece for years, I might slash my own goddamn throat. “Then what? What can we do now?”
“You and Ms. Key can…check your memories for…contradictions…. Make sure the facts are…clear in your own minds…. All the facts…. Not just the night of the…alleged murder…. But from the…moment you met.”
“That’s all?” I ask, because that’s what I think an innocent guy would say. “Because Alix and I don’t have anything to hide about how we met.”
And that’s the truth. We’re both ready to swear—the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth—about hooking up at Debasement. It’s the three years after that night where we plan to take a few liberties.
