The district attorney looks up and down Wall Street again. The stately old thoroughfare is empty, but pedestrians are moving along Main Street to his left. “Penn, you’ve been laboring under some misconceptions for a long time. It’s not really my place to enlighten you—especially not out here—but maybe we need to clear the air. Why don’t you come to my office a little later?”

“I’ll stop by when I finish with some business. I need to get an old photo album out of my safe.”

The DA shakes his head the way he might at a charity case. “Don’t do anything without talking to me first. I’m telling you that for your sake.”

As he strides off down Wall Street, I call Kirk back and promise to meet him in twenty minutes, in the parking lot of a music store owned by a friend of mine. Then I call Caitlin. I asked that she not come to the initial appearance this morning, so that no one present would feel they were playing to the media. She only agreed on the condition that I call her as soon as court adjourned.

“Did the judge grant bail?” she asks by way of greeting.

“Fifty grand. Dad’s out.”

“How much did Shad ask for?”

“He asked that bail be denied.”

“I told you! The gloves are off. Shad thinks this is his golden chance to get back at you. You’ve got to go nuclear. You should have done it last night.”

“I pretty much did. But he chose to ignore the threat.” A tick of worry is biting at me. “I’m concerned that he’s got the photo covered somehow.”

“How?” she asks, incredulous. “How could he possibly protect himself from that picture? He could go to jail over that, right?”

“Probably not. But he’d definitely be disbarred.”

“Are you sure the image is safe?”

“I’ve got the flash drive in my pocket now. But Shad would be crazy to proceed this way unless he’s figured a way to cover his ass.”

“Maybe he thinks he has equally damaging material on you. Or on Tom. Is that possible?”

A cold shiver goes through me. “Not on me. But something’s not right about this. Shad just spoke very cryptically to me outside the courtroom, and he didn’t sound like a man who’s afraid. He asked whether I’d considered whether Dad was really guilty, then suggested I come up to his office later to discuss it.”

“Then what are you doing talking to me?”

“You’d have had a stroke if I didn’t call you first.”

“Granted. Now get up there and find out what cards he’s holding.”