The Racketeer

prison system. Frankly, Rashford advises, he doesn’t think Nathaniel will survive long in the system. Based on the beatings he’s received his first two nights in jail, he’ll be lucky to live a full week.
    We agree that Rashford will visit the jail this afternoon andcheck on Nathaniel. I ask him to pass along the message that I am hard at work securing his release, the visit to his home went as planned, and all things are proceeding as discussed. “As you wish,” Rashford says. I paid his fee, so he’s still working for me, technically.
    I hope it’s our last conversation.

    Vanessa once again makes the three-and-a-half-hour drive from Richmond to Roanoke and arrives promptly for a 2:00 p.m. meeting with Dusty Shiver, attorney for Quinn Rucker. When she called to schedule the appointment, she promised to have in her possession crucial evidence about Quinn’s case. Dusty was intrigued and attempted to pry over the phone, but she insisted on a meeting, as soon as possible.
    She is dressed fashionably in a skirt short enough to get attention, and she carries a smart leather attaché. Dusty jumps to his feet when she enters his office and offers a chair. A secretary brings in coffee and they manage some strained small talk until the door is closed for good.
    “I’ll get right to the point, Mr. Shiver,” she says. “Quinn Rucker is my brother, and I can prove he’s innocent.”
    Dusty absorbs this and allows it to rattle around the room. He knows Quinn has two brothers—Dee Ray and Tall Man—and a sister Lucinda. All have been active in the family business. He now remembers that there was another sister who has not been involved and has never been mentioned.
    “Quinn is your brother,” he repeats, almost mumbling.
    “Yes. I left D.C. a few years ago and have kept my distance.”
    “Okay. I’m listening. Let’s hear it.”
    Vanessa recrosses her legs and Dusty maintains eye contact. She begins, “A week or so after Quinn walked away from the camp at Frostburg, he almost overdosed on cocaine in D.C. We,the family, knew he would kill himself with the stuff—Quinn was always the heaviest user—and we intervened. My brother Dee Ray and I drove him to a rehab facility near Akron, Ohio, a tough place for serious addicts. There was no court order so they couldn’t lock him down, but that’s basically what happens at this facility. Quinn had been there for twenty-one days when the bodies of Judge Fawcett and his secretary were found on February 7.” She lifts a file from her briefcase and places it on Dusty’s desk. “The paperwork is all here. Because he had just escaped from prison, he was admitted under an assumed name—Mr. James Williams. We paid a deposit of $20,000 in cash, so the rehab facility was happy to go along. They didn’t ask a lot of questions. They gave him a complete physical exam, complete blood work, so there’s DNA proof that Quinn was there at the time of the murders.”
    “How long have you known this?”
    “I cannot answer all of your questions, Mr. Shiver. There are many secrets in our family, and not many answers.”
    Dusty stares at her, and she coolly returns his look. He knows he will not learn everything, and at the moment it’s not that important. He has just won a major victory over the government, and he is already laughing. “Why did he confess?”
    “Why does anyone confess to a crime they didn’t commit? I don’t know. Quinn is severely bipolar and has other problems. The FBI hammered him for ten hours and used all the dirty tricks at their disposal. Knowing Quinn, he was playing games. He probably gave them what they wanted so they would leave him alone. Maybe he fabricated a tall tale so they would run around in circles trying to verify it. I don’t know. Remember the Lindbergh baby kidnapping, the most famous kidnapping in history?”
    “I’ve read about it, sure.”
    “Well, at least 150 people confessed to that crime. It makes no sense, but then Quinn can be crazy at times.”
    Dusty opens the file. There is a report of each day Quinn wasin rehab, from January 17 through February 7, the Monday they found the bodies of Judge Fawcett and Naomi Clary. “It says here he left the facility on the afternoon of February 7,” Dusty says, reading.
    “That’s right. He walked away, or escaped, and made his way to Roanoke.”
    “And why, might I ask, did he go to Roanoke?”
    “Again, Mr. Shiver, I can’t answer a lot of questions.”
    “So he shows