Chapter Ten #2
Case dropped both hands onto the table, leaning forward so that his voice was low but firm.
“Mr. Altman, first or fiftieth, you know the stakes. Horse rustling is taken very seriously in this state. No matter the motive, he’ll be prosecuted.
” Then he straightened and looked at Bobby.
“You could have been upfront from the start. You’d still face charges, but with cooperation, you might have gotten probation instead of a jail cell. ”
Bobby swallowed hard, voice cracking. “I just took my girlfriend’s horse.”
“It’s a felony,” Case said, brows knitting. “Not a slap on the wrist.”
“I didn’t think—” Bobby broke off.
“You’re damn right, you didn’t.” Case’s tone softened only slightly. “Good luck explaining this one to your father.”
Bobby’s lip trembled. “I just wanted to make Rachel happy. Her stepmother surrendered the horse without permission. It nearly killed her.” He sniffed, shoulders shaking.
Case exhaled slowly. “All right. Here’s the law in Montana; if the horse’s value exceeds fifteen hundred dollars, theft becomes grand theft, a felony punishable by state prison for sixteen months, two years, or three years.
Fifteen-hundred or under is misdemeanor theft, up to a year in county jail.
Since your father raises and sells Paints, you should know how much one is worth. Do you?”
Bobby’s face drained of color. “No.”
“Almost ten thousand dollars. Depending on the linage,” Case said quietly, watching as panic spread across Bobby’s features. “So do you want to assert your right to remain silent and go to court, or do you want to talk to me?”
At that moment, the conference-room door swung open. A tall man filled the opening, broad-shouldered, authoritative. Case leveled his gaze.
“Sir, this is a private matter.”
“Bobby is my son. I’ll be staying.”
“That’s not how it works, Mr. Gibbs. Bobby is an adult under Montana law. You’re welcome to wait outside. If you need to speak with me, I’ll meet you when I’m done here.”
Mr. Gibbs’s eyes flicked from Case to his son, anger flaring on his face. Case’s posture remained unyielding. Finally, Mr. Gibbs released a frustrated huff and left. Case leaned against the table’s edge, folding his arms, waiting silently until Bobby’s leg began to bounce nervously.
“Well?” Case asked, pulling out a chair and sitting. “This is your last chance. Talk, or I’ll have you booked. Granted, your father can bail you out, but once you’re convicted, it’s prison.”
Bobby’s eyes brimmed. “I don’t want to go to jail. I love Rachel, I just wanted to get her horse back for her.”
Case shook his head. “There are better ways to show you care. Stealing and lying aren’t among them.”
Bobby lay his head on folded arms atop the table and wept softly. Case felt a flicker of pity, he knew the boy believed he would make Rachel happy by getting her horse back.
After a moment he asked, “Were you planning to tell her the truth afterward?”
Bobby sniffed. “No. I was going to say I bought it from the woman who owned it.”
Case sighed. “Not a great foundation for a relationship; theft and deceit. You’ve got a lot to learn.”
“Mr. Anderson,” the lawyer began.
“Agent Anderson,” Case corrected with a curt nod.
“Agent Anderson. Can’t we work a deal out here?”
“I’m not sure.”
Bobby lifted his tear-stained face. “I’ll tell you everything.”
“I already know everything,” Case said, voice flat. “But go ahead.”
Mr. Altman cleared his throat. “Agent, could we speak in private?”
“Sure,” Case answered. “Bobby, come with me.” He opened the conference-room door again and led Bobby toward his desk. Once Bobby was seated in a chair at Case’s desk, he walked back to the conference room.
“Agent Anderson, the boy made a mistake—” Mr. Altman said.
Case sat rigid, fingers drumming on the table top. His voice was low, controlled. “The… boy is old enough to know what he was doing was illegal.”
Mr. Altman swallowed, his polished shoes scuffing against the linoleum floor. “Could I speak to your superior? Maybe we can come to some kind of deal.”
“You want to go over my head?”
“It’s not so much that—” The lawyer ran a hand through his thinning hair, seeking composure. “I just want to keep that young man out of prison. Yes, he stole the horse, but he’s young, in love, and wanted to make her happy by returning her mare.”
Case leaned forward, the chair creaking beneath him. “If you want to talk to my boss, I’ll get him for you.”
“I do.” Relief flashed in Altman’s eyes.
Case nodded, rose, and walked to Dave’s office. The office door stood open, pale light slanting through the windows. He rapped lightly on the glass pane.
“Come in,” Dave Merkle’s gravelly voice invited. He looked up from a stack of case files, the leather of his chair creaking as he leaned back. His office smelled faintly of stale coffee and old paper.
“What’s going on, Case?” Dave asked.
Case closed the door behind him. “Mr. Altman wants to negotiate. He’s asking for leniency for his client, Bobby Gibbs.”
Dave arched an eyebrow. “And you don’t want to give it to him, is that it?”
Case let a half-smile tug at his lips. “I’m open to it. I just wanted to scare the kid enough that he’d never pull a stunt like this again.”
Dave chuckled, folding his hands on the mahogany desk. “Looks like it’s working.” He nodded toward where Bobby sat hunched in a chair, shoulders trembling. Dave rose and walked out of the office.
Case followed Dave to the conference room.
Dave entered the room. “Mr. Altman, I’m Dave Merkle, the supervisor. What can I do for you?”
Mr. Altman rose from his seat, smoothing his tie. “I want to negotiate on behalf of Bobby Gibbs. He’s young—”
Dave held up a hand. “He’s an adult in the eyes of the law, Mr. Altman, and he knew taking that horse was theft.”
Altman squared his shoulders. “Yes, sir. But it’s his first offense, and in his mind, he was rescuing the horse his girlfriend had lost.”
Dave nodded. “I understand sympathies, but our job is straightforward; we find the culprit, we charge the culprit. Since this is Agent Anderson’s case, it’s his call what to recommend.”
Altman sighed, shoulders sagging. “Alright.”
“How about we talk it through?” Case interjected, folding his arms. “I’m willing to listen to a fair proposal.”
Mr. Altman brightened. “I’m sure we can reach an arrangement that spares Bobby time behind bars.”
Dave offered a curt nod. “I’ll leave you to it.” He stepped out, closing the door softly.
Altman and Case took seats opposite each other.
For thirty tension-packed minutes they negotiated terms, probation, community service, restitution, in careful measured tones. Finally, Altman extended his hand. Case clasped it firmly, then returned to fetch Bobby.
When the young man shuffled in, his gaze flickered with fear under the harsh light.
“Take a seat, Bobby,” Case said, motioning to the chair across the table.
Bobby perched on the edge; eyes fixed on a corner of the tabletop. His voice was barely audible. “Am I… am I going to jail? ”
Case leaned against the wall, lowering his voice. “I’m going to recommend probation, probably one or two years, maybe less, along with community service. The exact hours and length of probation will be up to the judge.”
Bobby exhaled a shaky breath. “So… no cell?”
Case shook his head. “I can’t promise zero jail time. Some judges are hardliners on horse theft. But I’ll testify for you. I believe you thought you were doing the right thing for Rachel. Your lawyer will handle the rest.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Relief and panic warred in Bobby’s eyes.
“But,” Case said firmly, leaning forward. “if you ever try something like this again—”
“I won’t. I swear I won’t.”
“Where’s the horse?” Case wanted to be sure neither Gibbs or Tillman lied.
“At my mother’s family’s property. It has an old barn there, so I put her there until I could give her back to Rachel.”
Case studied him, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you in court. Don’t give me a reason to change my recommendation. Are we clear?”
Bobby rose, voice steady now. “Crystal clear, sir.”
Case offered his hand; Bobby shook it with a firm grip. “You’re free to go.” As Bobby and Altman turned toward the door, Case added, “One more thing, drop the cocky attitude. It won’t help you before the judge.”
Bobby managed a small, earnest nod. “Yes, sir.”
Case watched them file out. When Rawley stepped into the department, Bobby froze mid-stride. Rawley gave him a curt nod, then strode off toward his desk. Bobby and Altman slipped out of the building, as the conference room’s door swung shut behind Case.
He walked to his desk, grabbed his coat and Stetson, then strode out of the office, to the elevator and jabbed the tarnished brass button. There was something still nagging at him like a splinter under his skin and he couldn’t shake it.
After parking his pickup in the apartment complex’s cracked asphalt lot, he climbed the metal steps, then stopped at the green door and rapped his knuckles against it.
The same lanky kid with disheveled hair opened the door, and Case wondered if he held a job or just lounged around all day in those baggy jeans.
“Yeah?” The kid’s bloodshot eyes barely focused.
“Is Rachel here or working?”
“She’s here. Come on in, man.” The kid stepped aside, revealing a sliver of the apartment beyond.
Case removed his hat, wiped his boots on the frayed welcome mat, entered the apartment and was surprised to see it was a nice place, cream-colored walls adorned with pictures of horses, polished hardwood floors, and furniture that looked barely used.
He jumped to the conclusion that it would be a mess since the young man was always so rumpled, his flannel shirt perpetually untucked.
Case stood by the door; hat clutched in his hands.
“Agent Anderson,” Rachel said when she entered the living room, her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, wearing pressed jeans and a crisp blue blouse.