By mid-afternoon, Blitz has secured a lawyer to meet us at the city jail to bail out Denham. His bond was set by the judge right after lunch, so it’s just a matter of heading there to pay it and get him out.
We take the gray car to the courthouse. The lawyer said we won’t be allowed back to see Denham, but he assured us that he’ll meet with him and make the necessary arrangements.
“Are we liable for what happens to him if he does something once he’s out?” I ask Blitz as we wait on a stiff row of chairs in a waiting area.
“I don’t know. I’ve never bailed anyone out before,” Blitz says. He holds my hand in both of his.
I smooth my simple black skirt and soft sweater. I’ve tied my hair back, trying to look as plain as possible. Blitz wears his sunglasses so he won’t be spotted at a courthouse, casual in jeans and a sweater.
The room is large and filled with anxious people. I’m pretty sure I’m the only person in the room without a tattoo. One very tattooed grandmother watching a passel of small children talks with exasperation into a cell phone until an officer asks her to put it away or step outside. She tosses him an angry look, but shoves it in her bag.
A girl keeps staring at Blitz. I keep an eye on her, worried she has recognized him, but she is careful not to meet my gaze.
A man in a sharp navy suit comes out of a door and looks around. He spots me and Blitz and approaches. “Benjamin,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m Jeremy Trudeau. Let’s go back to a private room to discuss the situation.”
We stand up right as the officer barks “No cell phones” again. The room jumps. Must be the grandmother. I sympathize with her, probably having to wait on one of the parents of all those children.
We follow Jeremy through the door, held open by a uniformed officer. We go down a quiet hall and turn into a small stark room with only a table and a few plastic chairs.
Jeremy sits on one side, and Blitz and I settle in across from him.
“I had a conversation with Denham Young, and he says he doesn’t want your help unless you’re going to tell him the location of his daughter,” Jeremy says. “We put together a provisional agreement.” He pulls a sheet of paper out of a briefcase. It’s covered with handwritten notes in tiny print. Denham’s signature is at the bottom.
“That’s all he wants? Her location?” Blitz asks.
“Yes. I came up with some demands for your side of the agreement given your concerns for the adoptive mother.”
I sit forward on the chair. “What are they?”
“To approach the adoptive mother prior to requesting visitation with the child. To handle it privately, rather than involving social services. And to allow the birth mother equal access to the child.”
Blitz nods. “What did he say?”
“He was okay with all that.”
“Is he okay?” I ask. “How did he seem?”
Jeremy sits back in his chair. “Edgy. Anxious.”
“Not angry?” I ask.
Jeremy shakes his head. “I didn’t get that from him. He did ask about his truck. Seems everything he owns is in it.”
“Did you tell him we’d take care of it?” Blitz asks.
“I did,” Jeremy says. “He’ll get his keys back from Admitting when he’s freed.”
“Will he just walk out?” I ask.
“Yes and no,” Jeremy says. “We have to speak to his probation officer. And we’ll need to have a place for him to stay. He’ll also have to jump through some hoops about looking for employment here in town. Normal aspects of his probation, but particularly critical now that he’s been in trouble again.”
“It was my fault,” I say. “I led him right into the protection zone.”
“We explained that to the judge,” Jeremy says. “I was here when the bond was set.”
“So what’s next?” Blitz asks.
“Either my office or yours can get him a residence,” Jeremy says. “Someplace semipermanent so he can receive correspondence. We’ll pay the bail, and he’ll sign an agreement with me that I represent him.”
“Sounds good. Do we sign this thing?” Blitz asks, pointing to the paper.
“We’ll keep it informal as long as possible,” Jeremy says. “You sure you want to take this on? You can walk away. With the probation and his priors, he’ll get another six months, easy.”
Blitz glances at me. “No, we have the bigger issue to settle. The child.”
Jeremy nods. “I’m not a family lawyer,” he says, putting the paper back in his briefcase. “But I’ll get him in a position where you can move on that.” He snaps the case closed. “But I’ll tell you, if he does anything else, I’d drop him like a hot potato. You don’t need that publicity on your head.”
Blitz nods. “Understood. You going to go get him now?”
“You want to transport him?”
“No,” I say. “Just let us know where he’ll be staying. We’ll meet up with him there.”
“I’ll have my people arrange it the moment we walk out of here,” Blitz says. “They’ll send you the address to get the probation officer to approve.”
Jeremy stands and extends his hand. “That sounds good. I’d say you’re crazy, but I guess you know what you’re doing.”
Blitz shakes his hand. “We don’t, but then, who really does?”
Jeremy nods and moves to the exit. “You know where to find me.”
He raps on the door and an officer opens it. Jeremy heads farther down the hall, and we go back to the waiting room.
“Should we stay here?” I ask.
“I guess not,” Blitz says. “I need to call my assistant to arrange for BD’s room and board. Probably can’t do it here with the hounds monitoring our phone use.”
Another officer opens the door to the waiting room.
And we are not prepared for what we see there.