“They searched your car?” Elsie asked with sarcastic pity. “How terrible for you. What about the car with the spray paint all over it?”
Lydia went back into the bathroom, her calm making Elsie more enraged. “You can’t come along if you’re going to freak out like that, Elsie. I thought you wanted to meet my lawyer with me.”
She did want to meet Lydia’s lawyer, though a part of her wished he’d turn out to be terrible and Lydia would get what she deserved.
“Aren’t you the least bit sorry?” Elsie couldn’t help adding as they left together to go to the hotel elevator.
Lydia turned. “Saying sorry would be admitting guilt. But hypothetically, if I’d done what they say I did, I would probably wish I hadn’t done it.”
“That’s not an apology,” Elsie glared at her sister as she stepped into the elevator and stabbed the lobby button with her finger. “Wishing you hadn’t gotten caught is not the same as being sorry. You’re wrong about Will. He didn’t deserve this. Not that anyone deserves this.”
Lydia didn’t respond, though she squirmed a little.
They parted ways in the parking lot, and Elsie let Jane drive while she pondered the situation. Most likely, Lydia would get a huge fine and avoid jail time … if she pleaded guilty. But the stubborn girl would never turn on Jeff.
Jane followed Lydia’s car to a very nice law firm called Taylor, White, and Associates. Definitely too nice to handle petty crime. Who was paying for this? And why?
The professionally dressed girl at the front desk offered them complimentary waters and directed them to sit and wait. Within a few minutes, a guy with salt-and-pepper hair introduced himself as Andy White and led them into his office.
“Lydia, let’s get right to this. The D.A.’s office has no interest in taking this to court, though they certainly have enough evidence that they could. My job is to help you make a good plea deal so you can put this behind you. I’m going to show you the evidence against you and then tell you what they’ve offered. Okay?”
They all leaned forward as he laid out several black and white pictures of two people in hoodies in front of what Elsie assumed was Will’s house. It was definitely his car. She winced at the close up of what they’d done to it.
“Lydia, you and Jeffrey Wickham were wearing hoodies like this the night you were arrested. The spray paint in your car is a color match to the spray paint on Fitzwilliam Darcy’s car.”
Lydia snorted, interrupting him. “Sorry, I didn’t know Will’s name was Fitzwilliam. It’s so … him.”
Andy stared Lydia down while Elsie wished she could crawl under the desk and die.
“Continuing on. The pocket knife found on Jeffrey Wickham is the right type for the slashes on Darcy’s tires. And Jeff had a little bit of dog poop on the bottom of his shoe, and while they didn’t test it against the pile left on the Darcy’s doorstep, they likely could get a match.”
“Dog poop?” Jane gasped. “And you slashed his tires?”
Lydia stared at the floor. Like a good criminal, she’d said as little as possible.
“They’re throwing out DUI of marijuana thing. That was just a reason to bring you in until they’d figured out what you’d done. But if you agree to plead guilty to the rest, I can get this reduced to an infraction. No jail time. Your benefactor has agreed to pay the five hundred dollar fine and you’d be free to go.”
“And what about Jeff?” Lydia asked.
“We discussed this on the phone, Lydia. He’s on his own. Refusing this to try to help him is foolish.”
“Jeff and I agreed we’re not saying anything. We’re innocent.” Lydia crossed her arms, sitting stiffly in her chair.
Andy leaned forward, looking disappointed in her. “Then I need to show you this.”
He slid a sheet of paper across the desk. It was a facsimile of a handwritten letter, with Jeff’s signature at the bottom. Lydia picked it up and studied it, her face turning from stubborn to beet red and then to a blotchy white. “Someone else wrote this,” she said, flinging it back on the table. “He wouldn’t say that.”
Jane picked it up next, and while Elsie couldn’t wait to see what the weasel had done, she was dying to know something else first. “What benefactor?” she asked. “Why is someone helping her?”
Andy shook his head. “That’s not something I can discuss.”
Elsie sighed and leaned over to read along with Jane. In true Jeff Wickham form, his confession was a detailed explanation of how it was all Lydia’s idea along with a heartfelt apology for taking part in it.
“This letter is part of his plea deal. Lydia, if you refuse yours, and this is the only story the judge sees … there won’t be much I can do to help you.”
Elsie held her breath, but finally, Lydia nodded. “Okay. I’ll take it.” She sniffed. “Jeff said we wouldn’t get caught. And then when we got pulled over, he told me everything would be fine. We just needed to both keep our mouths shut. He said the cops were too busy to care about little stuff like this.”
Elsie was about to say something, but a look from Jane silenced her. And she was right. Anything Elsie said at this point would sound like an I-Told-You-So.
