Stan glanced down at Mary from the 3rd floor railing. When he saw her get sick, he shoved the witness back into the room. "Stay put!" and slammed the door shut.
He took the stairs 2 and 3 at a time. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, Mary handed Stan the picture. It showed a handcuffed and battered Marshall, unconscious on the floor.
"Oh, God."
Once past the shock of the picture, he realized that he and Mary just got their fingerprints all over the evidence. "Don't move. Let me get a bag before we ruin any more prints on there."
After he stuffed the envelope and picture away, trying to hold back his anxiety, he directed Mary, "Take Marshall's car and bring his witness to court. I'll head back to the office."
"NO. Uh, huh. I'm going to look for Marshall."
Stan stared at her then shrugged. "Sure, go ahead." He stood there, arms folded across his chest, watching Mary jump into the SUV, start it up…and sit. "That's why I was going to the office. To get help from the APD and see if we can find some leads as to where Marshall might be held. Now, would you please take the witness to court? I'll call them up and explain why he's late."
"Get someone else to do it! I'm not going to be any good protecting him. You know my mind's going to be on Marshall."
"Yeah, I know. That's why I'll have someone meet you there and take over. Who knows by the time you get back we might have some leads."
XXXXX
Marshall opened his eyes without any of the precautions he used earlier. He was in too much of a fog to think clearly. He blinked away the miasma, trying hard to grab onto thoughts that slipped through the cracks in his brain. He squinted up at the basement window. Daylight. I wonder how long I've been out. I know it was around 9:00 PM when they snagged me.
"Owwww." He groaned when he shifted his weight. He swallowed hard as he rolled onto his side. More by instinct, his hands crept along his belt trying to find the telltale bulge indicating a key. While his hands were busy, his brain tried functioning again.
He just about ruled out that someone wanted his witness. The two other options were that he was being used as a pawn in negotiations, which didn't explain the beatings. Or they wanted information from him, which didn't make sense since they weren't asking him anything.
He recalled some of the details of the two behemoths that came in after him. The first guy had a thick Eastern European accent. Russian? Ukraine? He was almost sure it wasn't Polish. The other guy had the singsong accent of a Native American. Although not versed enough to be able to tell which tribe, he could name customs and costumes of most local groups.
The Tinde also known as Jicarilla considered themselves the "First People". They share the state of New Mexico with the Navajo Nation, which encroached on Hopi land. Taking over most of it. The Hopi would make dolls from the Cottonwood, which Jay Arnstein doesn't know from Poplar.
He shook his head trying to shake the fog out. You can dazzle Mary with your knowledge of Native Americans residents of New Mexico when you get out of here. He realized that he had stopped feeling for the key and started up the task again. He prayed that this time he'd get the key out before they came back.
Is Kay pissed off enough to change her mind? Does the Russian have anything to do with Serge? Wasn't there a murder linked to a wealthy Native American? His son was arrested?
He tried to push the belt through the loops but the buckle was too large to fit. "Crap." He just needed something to pop the buckle off, then he could slide it out. He looked at the cabinet. That would work. He rolled back and forth trying to get onto his knees. On the third try he succeeded. He sat back to catch his breath and smiled, now appreciating the contortions Horst performed to get off the ground after Mary tackled him. Hmmm. Could it be Horst? He rocked back and got to his feet. Thankfully they didn't tie his ankles.
He tottered a moment. "Weebles wobble but they don't fall down." He shook his head again, forcing his brain into gear and stumbled towards the cabinet.
He placed the edge of the buckle against the corner of the cabinet and turned sharply. The buckle hook popped out of the hole with such ease that Marshall lost his balance and spun to the floor. "Oh, that hurt." He pulled the belt free from the loops fishing for the key with more urgency.
Eureka! It had migrated almost to the front. However it took only minutes to get it out and even less time to unlock the cuffs.
He stood rubbing his raw wrists but before he could even think of his next move the door burst open. "Oh shit!"
XXXXX
Mary barreled into Stan's office. "What've we got?"
He handed her a list. "Take this list of all his past WITSEC clients and find out where they are. Find those they're hiding from as well, where they are, how long they've been there and any clues that they might be involved. If the perps are in jail, find out if they've got friends. I've got a similar list.
"Oh and by the way, we meet with Dershowitz in an hour."
The worry lines on Mary's forehead deepened. "He's homicide. Why's he involved?"
"On the record, he's saying that it might be tied to one of their cases. Off the record, he wants to help. I think he likes you."
"Yeah?"
She shook her head. "I've got more important things to worry about now. " She stormed out of the room to her desk.
XXXXX
"Do you know the last person he was with?"
"Listen Dirsch, how would we know who he was with last? His car is at the motel. Just start canvassing for witnesses to his abduction."
Stan gave Mary a stern look. "Ease up. He's just trying to help." He turned to Bobby D. "Unfortunately we can't give you the name of the person he was with. But we did interview that person and they saw and heard nothing. Can you take our word on that?"
Bobby looked down at his clenched hands. "You want me to help you, right? Why can't you give me the name of the person? At least….male or female?"
"No. Not even that."
"You want me to play detective blindfolded. Maybe I should just let your marshal friends do the work."
Stan glanced at Mary whose mouth was open and stated quietly, "Shut up."
Then to Bobby, "Did you get any prints off the photograph or envelope?"
"Not yet. Are there any leads you can give me? Any bad guys you want me to flush out?"
Stan shook his head.
Mary shot out of her seat. "We've wasted over an hour here. I've got work to do." She stormed out of the room."
Stan stood and shook Bobby's hand. "If there's any info I can share with you, I will."
"Ditto."