“Cut the crap,” Ivers said. “Her father did it. She wasn’t involved. You know it, and I know it. Besides, if she was smart enough to pull this off, why the hell would she be dumb enough to put the accounts in her own name and turn over evidence to help the FBI find them?” Ivers sounded so calm and self-assured, but then, his entire life wasn’t flashing before his eyes. I thought of the days I’d spent in the bin. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
Drake’s laugh could have been used as a track for an evil movie villain. “Lucky for me, I don’t need to answer that question in order to send her to prison for the rest of her life. No jury on Earth is going to let her walk after they see the evidence.”
I lunged for the garbage and threw up the rubbery chicken patty I’d been served for lunch. I dropped to my knees, gagging and spitting, resting my arms and handcuffed hands on the edge of the trashcan for support. My head spun, and the urge to pass out was pressing down on me. Part of me welcomed the darkness and the escape it would offer.
“Disgusting.” Drake’s snide tone pulled me out of my momentary stupor. Awareness rushed back in, along with an untapped inner reserve of strength. I had to get up. I was already ashamed that he’d brought me to my knees.
Ivers crossed the room and opened the door. “Could someone get us some water?”
I pushed up and stumbled to my feet, Ivers catching me by the arm and helping me back to my chair. A few seconds later he pressed a styrofoam cup into my hands. I drank slowly, not wanting to puke again.
I fumbled the cup to the table and took a moment to compose myself. The silence in the room was deafening. Or maybe it was just the blood rushing in my ears.
Finally, Ivers crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He continued the conversation with Drake as though nothing remarkable had happened.
“Are all of the accounts you’ve been able to identify in her name?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to hear the answer that would send me running for the garbage can again. My heart thundered so loudly I almost missed Drake’s self-satisfied, “Yes.”
Tears burned my eyes, but I blinked them back. I was not going to let him see me cry.
“Do you suspect that all of the accounts are in her name?” Ivers asked, his cool tone completely at odds with the damning information he was hearing.
“No,” Drake replied. “But it’s a clear possibility at this point that dozens of them are.” I clenched my hands together to stop the shaking.
“How long do you figure it’s going to take you to cut through the red tape with all of these foreign banks and recover the money?”
Drake straightened, and looked down as he spun a cufflink. “It’ll take some time, but we’ll get there.”
Ivers leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “So the reason you ran down here so damn fast isn’t because you want to cut a deal in exchange for Charlotte’s help to recover the money? Because we both know if she’s the one signing the withdrawal slips and approving the wire transfers, it’ll take weeks rather than months or years of the red tape you’ll be wading through to get it back.”
Drake looked bored as he said, “We might be willing to discuss the possibility.”
The icy grip clutching my chest receded a fraction. I reminded myself that with my recent luck, a deal could still mean years in prison. If not decades.
I held completely still, as if afraid any movement from me would derail whatever ground Ivers had just gained.
“Recovery of the funds from the accounts you identify in her name, but only if the subject bank is willing to cooperate, in exchange for full dismissal of the charges with prejudice. And no re-filing any state or federal charges arising out of, or related to, any aspect of Agoston’s scheme,” Ivers said.
“Full recovery of the funds,” Drake shot back.
“With interest, even a partial recovery is going to approach the original amount Agoston took, and she can only get you money from accounts in her name identified by the FBI, and only if the bank cooperates. She can’t agree to things that are outside of her control.”
Drake leaned back in his chair, taking his time to mull over Ivers’s words as if my future wasn’t hanging in the balance.
“I don’t know…” Drake drawled.
Ivers went in for the kill. “Would you prefer the media know that the DOJ has the ability to recover the money right now, and it’s considering throwing that advantage away and taking years to accomplish the same result because it wants to prove a point by locking up one innocent girl?”
Drake’s features were carved in stone. I held my breath as Ivers and I waited for his response.
“Let me make a call.” Drake rose and left the room.
I sucked in huge breath and looked over at Ivers. “Is this really going to work?”
Ivers didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Sweet relief rushed through me for a beat before another thought struck me.
“Do … do I have to go back to Rikers? Because … I don’t know if I can handle that.”
He bit his bottom lip. The action was decidedly at odds with his expensive suit and air of confidence. After a moment, he shook his head.
“I can’t imagine the feds are going to let you out of their sight now that we know you’re effectively the key to recovering the money. It’s much more likely that they’ll stash you somewhere in protective custody. If this gets out, people would kill to get to you. They can’t risk that happening.”