Chapter 37

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Chapter 37

There's no late edition of the paper today.  No updates on the internet.  I thought it was possible that Glen had a suicide plan.  If I got close enough to him, he would release the story on me.  If he couldn't publish it, maybe he would have a friend or his mother do it.  Someone would have it ready to go, but there's nothing on his site, and there doesn't seem to be a late edition. I feel even better about keeping him in custody.  Right now, there's nothing he can do to me.  I'm totally in control.  He's finished.


          There's a knock on the door and a heavyset man wearing a suit stands in front of me.  He's holding a briefcase that is so overstuffed with papers, they're sticking out of the edges.  Josh and Bear are standing next to him.  They must have let him into the office.


          "Sheriff Taylor, I'm Jack Lynch. I represent Glen Wilkinson.  He has a right to a lawyer, and I'm here to secure his release."


          "He has a court appearance tomorrow morning.  If you want to plead your case, you can do it in front of the judge, but he's not going anywhere,"   say.


          He comes into my office, drops the briefcase on my desk, opens it and fumbles through it. 


          "Excuse me," I say, "but this isn't a meeting.  If you want to plead your case, do it tomorrow."


          He continues to flip through his papers. "You're going to want to see this."


          "Sir, really I'm very busy.  I'm not having this conversation."


          Josh breaks in. "Clark, if he has viable evidence, you should look at it."


          "No, I really don't want to see it."


          The lawyer continues going through his briefcase.  He takes out a scrap of paper and looks at both sides of it.  "That isn't it," he mumbles.  He stops, takes a handkerchief out of his pocket, wipes his forehead and goes back to the stack of papers.


          This guy is a clown.  Glen can't do better than this? 


          The man stops. "I thought that I had it in here.  Maybe I left it in the car."


          "Didn't they teach you in law school to be prepared?" I ask him.


          "Yeah, I must have been sick that day," he says with a chuckle. 


          "I'll even help you out.  Get all your evidence ready and bring it tomorrow.  The judge can decide."


          "Wait, here it is," he says, taking out a piece of paper that has several Xeroxed images on it.  He hands it to me.


          I scan it for a few seconds and hand it back.  "Thanks for stopping by."

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