My Sister's Keeper

Chapter 17

I stopped on the way to work to see Scott McGillikin. We hadn't gotten off to a very good start and I thought things might be better in his office. I was led right in and waited for an invitation to sit, which didn't come. He looked rough, like he'd been up all night. I told him about my visitor, the money, and the stitches. "How do I stop him from coming back?"

He leaned back, looked over his nose at me, and acted as if even an idiot should know the answer to that question. "Give him the money."

I stepped forward, planted my hands on his desk, and leaned well over it. "Let's you and me get something straight right now." He tried to intimidate me with his steely eyes, but I didn't let that deter me. I'd seen a pair just like them too many times. "I'm being harassed by the police, by the media, by some gangster that thinks I have his money, and by my own father who wishes I'd never been born. I sure as hell don't need it from my attorney. I did not harm Ashleigh Matthews in any way and did not know about the damned money until last night. I may be the first one you've ever had, but this man is innocent and if it's beyond your abilities to treat me that way, then I want someone else to represent me. Got it?"

His expression never changed. He raised his coffee and sipped. "What did this man look like?"

I dropped into the deep leather chair in front of his desk and propped my feet on the ottoman in front of it. "It was dark. All I know is he had a thick mustache and a northern accent."

"Did you report it to the police?"

"I didn't see where that would help." Scott didn't respond, just sipped his coffee. "But don't you think it sheds new light on the case?"

"New light?" he asked.

"Let me ask you something. How does this work? Do you build your case on things you look into on your own, or do you just use what the police share with you?" He sipped his coffee. "Do you think we could find out where Ashleigh worked? Who she worked with?" He drew his eyebrows down, but remained silent. "Look, I just want to know how it works. What to expect. I've never been charged with murder before."

"I ran a check on her social security number first thing this morning. Nobody's reported any income to it in a year."

"So, what do we do now?"

"What I do is plan the work and work the plan. What you do, Mr. Baimbridge, is stay out of trouble and let me do my job."

"What about my car? Do they keep it or is there a way I can get it back? I need it for work."

Scott fingered a Rolodex, dialed a number, and talked with someone that seemed to know him. After a short exchange, he hung up and told me how and where to pick it up. Finally, a positive feeling about Scott. Then he told me he needed five thousand dollars cash to continue on the case.

A few minutes later I picked up the Suburban. Planning to come back for the bike, I drove to the office to load up equipment. I was scheduled to shoot digital images for the Coastline Convention Center, but Lizzy said the agency handling the project had called and canceled. I called the agent and he was up-front and honest saying he couldn't take a chance on anything going wrong that could cost him his customer. I understood his position, but it hurt nonetheless.

I was still getting work out, but these were projects that had begun before Ashleigh disappeared, and when Lizzy called to tell clients their orders were ready, they weren't bothering to pick them up.

Being at the office was fruitless and demoralizing so I called Martha and asked if she was up to going out to Paddy's Hollow for lunch. It had been her favorite place before the accident. She said she'd be ready in thirty minutes.