“Can police detain lawyers?” she asked her phone. The answer from the hive mind was a resounding no. Next, she looked up the thing she was really worried about: “What happens to kids when parents go into police custody?” Foster care, it turned out. As soon as tonight, any kinds of people could be alone with Julia and Larry. Doing whatever they pleased to them.
She stared at her phone, wishing she had someone to call for help. But she didn’t. Her whole life was Arlo.
* * *
On Arlo’s end, the time passed even more slowly. What do you do when falsely accused of the worst possible crime? He felt the camera on him, aware that his room was under surveillance. He thought back, trying to remember a time he’d been alone with the child—Shelly Schroeder. Had he ever walked in on the girls when changing? Was that illegal? Had he ever walked around with his shirt off? Was that wrong? What if the newspapers found out? They loved scandals about has-beens. Front-page news. Internet trolls would barrage every interoffice e-mail address they could find. He’d be fired within the hour. And what of Julia and Larry? How would he explain this to them? Would doubt creep, smearing his relationships, so that no one ever trusted him again?
Eventually, Arlo realized that he, too, could go outside. He smoked three Parliament Lights and called Fred. After a time, Fred called back, explaining that the lawyer was stuck in traffic. After sixty minutes, Arlo called again. Phone tag. This time, Fred seemed concerned, and said he’d check things out. On his way back, Arlo stopped in the room where Gertie was sitting. Realized it was stupid they weren’t together.
He didn’t come to her like he ordinarily would have. He just stood there, stiff and uncomfortable, because maybe someone was watching this reunion. Judging it. Maybe Gertie was upset. After what she’d been through in her own childhood, doubt had crept. She no longer loved him.
He sat one chair away from her. She didn’t ask him to move closer, but she did pass a slice of cold pizza and half a Coke.
* * *
At two hours, they went outside and called Fred again. Tag. He called back and told them that Sloss had already arrived at the police station, spoken with the police, discovered that Arlo was a “high-profile” former celebrity, and decided to leave without informing anyone, including Fred. He didn’t want his name associated with a pedophile. It could ruin his career. Fred was calling around, looking for someone else.
“Will it hurt your career to help me out like this?” Arlo asked.
“It’s fine,” Fred answered, too quickly.
“You do believe me, don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” Fred answered. “I know you’ve been good to me and my wife. Listen, I was hoping I could get this cleared up for you. A lawyer would put it all on record. But at this point, your kids are starting to get upset. Just come home.”
* * *
They found Hudson and Gennet in the wide main room, at a pair of open desks. Another man in a more expensive suit was with them. He looked like he’d just come out of court, and for a moment, they both fantasized that he was the lawyer Fred had sent, returned at last.
“Detective Bianchi,” he said. “I’m supervising this case.” He shook their hands. Firm shake, but not jerk firm.
“My wife’s ready to drop,” Arlo said. “I’m taking her home. As soon as I find a lawyer, I’m happy to come back and answer all your questions.”
“Give us just a second,” Bianchi answered as he took both detectives aside. Words were spoken. It lasted twenty more minutes.
Arlo found a chair for Gertie and had her sit. She noticed him fidgeting, getting annoyed. “Don’t blow your top,” she whispered.
Bianchi returned. “You’re on surveillance at Penn Station the night before the incident. And we have a witness who places you in your home for the subsequent duration.”
Gertie burst into gasping tears. Arlo and the detectives surrounded her.
“It’s the hormones,” she muttered. Arlo rubbed her back. “Don’t touch me!” she said.
Arlo let go. “Give her space,” he said, and they all backed up.
“I’m sorry to put you through all this, ma’am,” Gennet said. “Can I get you more pizza?”
“Don’t look at me crying,” Gertie answered, which she knew sounded nuts. “I don’t want you to see me cry.”
Except for Arlo, they averted their eyes. She pulled herself together.
“Who was the witness that vouched for me?” Arlo asked.