First Girl Gone(14)
Sighing, Will closed his eyes.
“Sorry… as you might be able to tell, I’m just a touch obsessed with this particular subject. People like to label me pro-drunk-driving, but that’s not it at all. I’m all for keeping drunks off the road. But I am absolutely opposed to the justice system being used as a money-grab. And Kara is a perfect example. She should have been charged with a much lesser crime. She would have paid a small fine for the underage drinking, been on probation, taken some classes. But suddenly, because she happened to be behind the wheel at the time, the judge wants to throw the book at her.”
“You don’t think the zero-tolerance system is a way to try to discourage underage drinking?” Charlie asked.
“Oh, that’s what groups like Mothers Against Drunk Driving like to claim, but I don’t buy it. How is it discouraging underage drinking? At best, it might be discouraging underage drinking and driving, but I doubt it even does that. You remember being that age. Would the zero-tolerance law have kept you from drinking?”
Charlie considered this.
“Probably not.”
“Exactly. This is a girl who did what probably over half the kids her age have done, and she’s looking at jail time? Who is that supposed to be helping? Certainly not Kara. And I don’t think society at large needs to be protected from someone who had one beer, no matter her age.”
“Did you try to get the charge reduced from a DUI to minor in possession?” Charlie asked, more out of curiosity than anything.
“I did,” he said. “It didn’t work, which was no surprise. I’ve had a dozen or so cases like this over the years with no success arguing that point. I know other defense attorneys who have tried the same. And I don’t know of a single case where it’s ever worked.”
“Because no judge wants to look weak on underage drinking,” Charlie said, reasoning it out.
“Pretty much. Justice is blind, but the blindfold tends to slip when it’s a topic that might come up during re-election.”
“Have you always been this cynical?” Charlie asked. “Or is that something they teach you all in law school?”
Will smiled.
“Cynicism 101. Great class. But I’m guessing you didn’t come all the way over here so I could rant about the state of our judicial system. You had questions for me about Kara?”
Charlie had been so wrapped up in Will’s commentary, she’d totally forgotten that she hadn’t yet asked about Kara’s last meeting with her probation officer. She couldn’t deny that Will had a natural charisma—he always had—and she imagined he did very well in the courtroom on account of it.
“Kara’s mother told me she met with her probation officer here the day before she disappeared.”
“That’s right.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
“I didn’t usually participate in the meetings. I just wanted Kara to have somewhere close to school so she could get to the meetings with as little fuss as possible.”
“And did she ever mention being involved with anything or anyone who might give me something to go on? A person she might have gone to if she were in trouble?”
“Even if she did, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.” He pointed at her, an amused twinkle in his eye. “And I know that you know that.”
“Attorney–client privilege. Yeah. Doesn’t mean sometimes people don’t slip,” Charlie said. “Thanks for answering my questions, especially considering I barged in here without scheduling an appointment or anything.”
“I’m always happy to take walk-ins when it’s an old friend.”
As she got up to leave, Will came around the desk, and Charlie stepped forward, for some reason thinking he was going to hug her. Instead, he extended his hand.
“It’s good to see you, Charlie.”
Charlie’s face flushed, and she felt her hands go clammy in an instant. Will’s fingers were cool and dry by comparison. She wondered if that was another lawyer trick, always seeming calm and collected.
“You too,” she said and slipped through the door.
Chapter Eight
Charlie pulled the zipper of her parka all the way up, using the collar to shield the bottom half of her face from the icy breeze coming off the lake. It was almost fully dark now, just a sliver of salmon-colored light on the western horizon. Against the bright splash of pink-orange, Charlie could just make out the silhouette of the decaying Ferris wheel on the far side of the island.
In the car, she slid out her phone and got back to work, checking more potential leads off her list. A couple of quick phone calls to both Kara’s probation officer and biological father had failed to turn up anything useful. In fact, Charlie was starting to grow concerned at just how unconcerned everyone else seemed to be. The probation officer predicted that Kara would turn up within the next day or so, at which point she wanted to be called immediately. Meanwhile, Kara’s dad said it was “normal kid stuff” and he was sure Kara was “just fine.” Something about the “just fine” in particular made Charlie shudder.
On her way back to the office, Charlie stopped off at Town Square Pizza and ordered a large with mushroom and green pepper. She watched Marco, the owner, assemble the pie in lightning speed. In less than a minute, he’d stretched the dough, ladled on the sauce, spread the cheese and toppings, and slid the whole thing into the oven to bake. Marco had been running the place almost single-handedly as long as she could remember. Aside from the fact that his waxed handlebar mustache had gone gray, he even still looked mostly the same.