Mike nodded patiently. This was all in the police report.

“After the cops left,” John continued, “Elaine showed up. She and Baxter started making out on the sofa, and one thing led to another. My client was watching television in the same room, as was Alan Strock. My client was intoxicated, to say the least, and at some point he passed out. He is certain he did not have sex with Elaine that night, and at the time he was not certain if anyone else did either. He was too drunk to remember much the next morning, and, as you well know, no accusation was made by your client until four days later. The police investigated the matter. All four boys were on the verge of talking to their parents, but the investigators soon realized that they simply could not put together a case. In recent weeks, my client has talked to Baxter Tate and to Joey Bernardo, and both boys admitted to having sex with your client on the evening in question. Both are, were, adamant that it was consensual.”

“Then why was Baxter so anxious to apologize?”

“I can’t answer that. I don’t speak for Baxter.”

“Why did Joey apologize? He did so in my presence, you know?”

“Did Joey apologize for raping Elaine, or did he apologize for the misunderstanding?”

“He apologized. That’s what’s important.”

“There’s still no case, and his apology adds nothing to the evidence. There’s no way to prove rape occurred. There was sex, sure, but you can’t prove anything else.”

She finally wrote something. Lavender legal pad, elegant strokes, noisy wrists. She took a deep breath and seemed to gaze out the window for a moment.

For Team McAvoy, it was time for the biggest gamble. They would never reveal every fact because successful negotiation does not hinge on full disclosure. But the one bomb that could wreck any deal had to be addressed.

“Have you talked to the detectives in Pittsburgh?” John asked.

“No, but I’ve read the entire file.”

“Anything mentioned about a video?”

“Yes, there were notes in the file. But the cops couldn’t find one. Elaine even heard the rumor.”

“It’s not a rumor. There is such a video.”

She took this without the slightest flinch. Nothing in her eyes, hands, or body registered surprise. What a great poker face, John admitted quickly. She simply waited.

“I haven’t seen it,” he said. “But my client saw it in February of this year. Don’t know where it is now and don’t know how many others have seen it, probably very few. There’s a chance it might surface, perhaps on the Internet, perhaps in your mailbox.”

“And what would this video prove?”

“It would prove that your client was drunk and smoking pot when she sat down on the sofa with Baxter Tate and began kissing and groping. The angle of the camera does not allow a full picture of the two engaged in sex, but it’s obvious from the knees down that they’re having a fine time. Baxter is followed by Joey. At times Elaine is not active; at other times she’s obviously engaged. My client thinks it proves that she was in and out of consciousness, but he’s not certain. Nothing is certain, except that neither he nor Alan Strock had sex with her.”

“Where is the video?”

“I do not know.”

“Does your client?”

“No.”

“Who has the video?”

“I do not know.”

“Okay, who showed it to your client?”

“He does not know the person’s real name. He had never met the person until the person showed him the video.”

“Gotcha. I take it there’s a complicated story behind this.”

“Extremely complicated.”

“A stranger pops up, shows your son the video, then disappears?”

“Right, except for the disappearance part. The stranger is still in contact.”

“Extortion?”

“Something close.”

“Is that why you’re here? Your client is scared of the video? You wanna make peace with us so the extortion scheme goes away?”

“You’re very astute.” She still had not blinked. She seemed to be reading his mind at this point.

“Must be a helluva video,” she said.

“My client found it troublesome, though he was not present during the sex portion of it. The video clearly shows your client happily getting involved in a good romp on a sofa. Whether she blacked out at some point is not clear, at least on the video.”

“She is seen walking and talking and moving around?”

“Clearly. These boys didn’t drag her in off the street, Mike. She had been in their apartment many times, drunk and sober.”

“Poor thing,” Mike said, her first false move.

“Poor thing was having a wonderful time. She carried a purse full of drugs, along with her collection of fake IDs, and she was always looking for a party.”

Mike slowly stood and said, “Excuse me for a moment.” She walked into her office, and John admired the black leather every step of the way. He heard her low voice, probably on the phone, and then she was back with a forced smile.

“We could debate this for hours,” she said. “And not settle anything.”

“I agree. Baxter was in New York three weeks ago today to see my client. In the course of a long discussion about what happened, he told my client that he believed that he had forced himself on Elaine. The guilt was heavy. Maybe there was a sexual assault.”

“And the rapist is dead.”

“Exactly. However, my client was there when it happened. It was his apartment, his friends, his party, and his booze. He wants this thing off his back, Mike.”

“How much?”

John managed a nervous laugh. Such bluntness. She, however, did not crack a smile.

He made a note and asked, “Is it possible to reach a financial settlement and have your client release all civil claims and agree not to prosecute?”

“Yes, assuming the settlement is sufficient.”

A pause as John made some more notes, then, “My client does not have a lot of money.”

“I know how much your client earns. I’ve been practicing law for twenty years, and he earns more than me.”

“And me, after thirty-five years. But he has student loans, and it’s not cheap living in New York City. I’ll probably need to chip in a little, and I’m not a wealthy man. I don’t owe anything, but a busy street practice in downtown York is not the road to riches.”

His honesty disarmed her for a moment, and she smiled and seemed to relax. They enjoyed a nice diversion swapping stories about the challenges of practicing law in small-town America. When the time was up, John said warmly, “Tell me about Elaine. Job, salary, finances, family, and so on.”

“Well, as I said, she works part-time here for peanuts. She makes $24,000 a year as an assistant director of parks and rec for the city, not exactly a career job. She rents a modest apartment that she shares with her companion, Beverly, and drives a Nissan with a monthly note. Her family is from Erie, and I don’t know how prosperous they once were, but things have taken a bad turn. She’s on her own, twenty-three years old, surviving. She still has dreams of something beyond where she is now.”

John made a few notes, then said, “Yesterday, I spoke with an attorney for the Tate family, big firm in Pittsburgh. Baxter had a trust that sent him six thousand a month, which was never enough. That sum would increase over time, but all the Tate trusts are now tightly controlled by an uncle who has a rather heavy hand. Baxter’s trust folded when he died. There’s very little in his estate, so any contribution from his family would fall under the category of charitable giving. These people are not known for their charity, and it’s hard to imagine them entertaining notions of writing checks to Baxter’s old girlfriends.”

Mike was nodding in agreement. “What about Joey?” she asked.

“He’s working hard, trying to provide for a growing family. He’s probably strapped, and will be for the rest of his life. My client would like to keep both Joey and Alan Strock out of this.”