170 - Police Station Meeting
*I can take a statement, but until something actually happens, there is nothing that I can do. Really and truly, I should not even take a statement. I’m going to, but only as a favor to David. – Detective Luke Broussard*
Celt arranged for William to give a statement by deposition of everything that he knew about Dominique’s plans. Celt accompanied William and his lawyer, James Harmond, to the police station the following morning. William gave as many details as he could and answered all the questions that the detective asked.
After several hours, they walked out of the police station and stood in the parking lot to say goodbye and plan for the next steps. He ignored the soft chirps of text messages coming in. When the ringtone of the office’s emergency line came through his phone, he excused himself and stepped away.
“Sean O’Malley,” he said as a greeting.
“Mr. O’Malley, I’m transferring a call from Miss Camille Johnson,” Felicia was all business and that worried him. She usually had a smart comment for him, and they would banter back and forth.
He replied with the same business-like attitude, “Go ahead.”
The line was filled with clicks and beeps and then Camille was on the line.
“Celt, Nicki’s history teacher just called me. A child’s services rep is at the high school.”
He bit back the curse that he wanted to yell. When his dad’s secretary said that it was Camille on the line, he hoped that it would not be this. They all knew it was a possibility, and that was why he had sent a very carefully worded email to their teachers, school staff and the district administration.
Motioning to the other two men to join him, he asked, “Where is she?”
“Mrs. Wilko? I’m sure she’s still in class.”
Camille’s smart-ass response gave him hope and he could not help but grin. “I meant Nicki.”
“It seems that just before the office called, Nicki left the classroom to go to the bathroom, complaining of stomach cramps.” She gave a small chuckle, “Nicki texted me and said that Mrs. Wilko told her to go to the women’s locker room in the big gym and not to leave until you called her.”
“Fuck, that’s in writing?”
“No, it’s in a grocery list.”
“Camille,” Celt growled as the other two men joined him.
“She used the Dutch Underground Code that Oma Uittenbroek used. We created our own version, it was for fun, and I never expected to have to use it.”
“God, I love your Oma. She was one bad ass bitch. Just like all of her granddaughters are. Hang on one second,” he tipped the phone away from his mouth and looked at the local lawyer that a college friend had recommended. “How long will it take to get to the high school from here?”
He said the name of the school and Celt confirmed it. Thinking for a second he answered, “About 10 to 12 minutes. It’s really not far from here.”
“Camille,” Celt said into the phone as he headed back into the police station. “Use your code, tell her to go back to class in about ten minutes. Slowly. When the teacher sends her to the office, go slow. And have her teacher –“
The business phone in his pocket rang and when he pulled it out, he saw the emergency line number again.
“I have to go.” Without waiting for a response, he ended that call and answered the other line, “Sean O’Malley.”
“Mr. O’Malley, Mrs. Janet Wilko, Miss Stephanie Jones and Mr. Adam Cutter have all reported that children’s services have arrived at the school to interview Miss Monique Johnson. Following state regulations and school protocol, they have requested that she report to the front office. Per guidance of your email, they have contacted our office. Mr. Cutter is still on the line, please advise.”
“Let them know that I am on my way,” he sat the phone down on the counter and requested that he speak with the detective that was assigned to the case. “Detective Broussard, please.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but he’s-“
“Mr. O’Malley, is everything okay?” Detective Broussard asked from a doorway behind the desk.
“No, detective, it is not,” Celt replied, ensuring that Felicia could hear everything. “I was just informed that a children’s services rep is trying to interview my client. Considering that we are aware that false charges would be filed, I do not want her interviewed without representation. Either you or myself, but I will not have her sit in an interview where statements could be altered or misrepresented.”
The dark-haired detective nodded, “I’ll meet you at the school.”
With a curt nod, Celt offered his thanks and turned back to find the other two men waiting for him. William looked worried but the smile on James’ face, Celt knew well. He might not know this man very well, but he knew enough lawyers that he knew the look.
In fact, he was pretty certain that his own face had the same expression. Blood was in the water. Sharks were circling. They would be going in for the kill.
“Mr. O’Malley,” James grinned, “if you and Mr. Smith will both ride with me, I am sure that we can expedite the trip.”
“Sounds wonderful, sir,” Celt agreed, and they once again left the police station. This time they went straight to James’ SUV that was already running with the air conditioning turned on high. “Do you ever get a break from this heat?”
“It’s not even hot yet,” James said as he pressed the start button. “I will say that Massachusetts was a bitch for me. Never did get used to the winters. Came back as soon as I could.”
Before he backed out, he connected his phone to the hands free and called his office. The call connected and he handed the phone to Celt, telling him what extension to enter when the automated system picked up.
“Harmond and Harmond, this is Lucille,” came through the radio speakers.
“Luce, I need you to assist Mr. O’Malley with prepping a restraining order.” He told the woman as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed to the nearby school.
“Absolutely,” the woman replied happily. She asked several questions, and they could hear her nails clicking across the keyboard. Once it was complete, she read everything back and the two men agreed.
“Do you have a preferred judge that I submit it to? Or just to the docket?”
James turned on his blinker and prepared to turn into the parking lot, grabbing his court ID to show the guard. “I don’t want it filed yet. If it’s still needed after this meeting, I’ll hand deliver it to Willard.”
The guard stepped up to the vehicle after it turned into the driveway. He saw the court ID and waved them through with the instructions of where to park and that valid state IDs would need to be presented at the office. The three men agreed, and James slowly drove to the visitor parking area.
“Luce, tell my wife that I may be late for dinner tonight.”
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