“Or you are, sir,” said Debora Wallenburg. “In fact, I know you are. Travis Huck is a decent human being and I am not some bleeding-heart, mushy-brained do-gooder who denies the existence of evil. I’ve seen plenty of evil in my day.”

“Corporate litigation gets that nasty?”

“Witty, Lieutenant. Bottom line: I’m not harboring Travis, neither am I aware of his whereabouts.”

“But you’ve been in contact with him.”

The pen clicked. “I’m going to give you some free legal advice: Avoid tunnel vision and prevent a huge mess for all concerned.”

“Any suggestions about alternative suspects, ma’am?”

“That’s not my job.”

Moe Reed huffed. If Wallenburg noticed, she didn’t show it.

Milo said, “Huck fled. Not the behavior of an innocent man.”

“It is when that man has been abused by the system.”

“He called you because you saved him before. You advised him not to inform you of his whereabouts. Or his guilt. That way, you couldn’t be subpoenaed to divulge. All legal, Ms. Wallenburg, but it skirts the moral issue. If Huck kills again, do you want it on your conscience?”

“Oh, please, Lieutenant. You should write screenplays.”

“I’ll leave that to disillusioned lawyers.”

Wallenburg shifted her focus to me. Searching for the good kid in the classroom. When I didn’t respond, she looked at Reed.

He said, “Huck will be found, tried, and convicted. Make it easy.”

“On who?”

“Let’s start with the victims’ families,” said Reed.

“Easy for everyone but Travis,” said Wallenburg. “Nineteen years ago, he was hauled in like garbage, tried before a kangaroo court, tortured-”

“Who tortured him?” said Milo.

“His so-called caretakers. Haven’t you read my appeals brief?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I’ll fax you a copy.”

Reed said, “Whatever happened back then doesn’t change the facts now. You’re so sure he’s innocent but you’ve got nothing to back that up.”

Wallenburg laughed. “Do you really think you’re going to pry facts out of me by insulting me? How about you deliver something in the way of evidence? Go ahead, convince me he’s guilty. The only link you have is casual knowledge of Selena Bass.”

Milo said, “He told you that.”

Wallenburg said, “That seals it, you’ve got nothing. Why am I not shocked?”

Reed said, “You think we just picked his name out of the phone book?”

“I think you’re looking for a quick and easy hook to hang your investigative hats on.”

Milo said, “If I told you we had physical evidence, would that change your mind?”

“Depends on the nature of that evidence and how meticulously it was collected.”

Reed laughed. “O.J., again.”

Wallenburg said, “Think what you want, gentlemen. The fact is, even if I could be a party to this sham, I wouldn’t.”

Milo said, “This sham being-”

“Railroading Travis. Again. You really should’ve read my brief. He was beaten so severely that he incurred permanent nerve damage. And what got him in there? Pushing back at a bully. Coming up against wealth and power.”

I said, “Why didn’t you file a civil suit?”

Wallenburg blinked. “Travis wasn’t interested. He’s not a vengeful person.”

Milo said, “Granted the first time was an outrage, you’re the hero of the story. But that doesn’t relate to the present situation.”

“A hero? Don’t patronize me, Lieutenant. All I did was basic lawyering.”

“Just like you’re doing now.”

“I don’t owe you any explanation.”

I said, “Travis’s life between his release and being hired by the Vanders is a blank. When he got out, you wanted to help him reintegrate, but he disappeared on you. Went homeless. All kinds of things can happen to a disabled young man living on the street. What makes you think he’s the same person you saved?”

Wallenburg put the pen down, picked up a rocker blotter.

Milo said, “We’re talking nineteen years with no legitimate identity. That kind of caginess implies something to hide.”

“It implies nothing of the sort.”

“What then?”

Debora Wallenburg plinked a long, silver nail against the blotter. “You have no idea,” she said.

I said, “I think we do. He was traumatized, lonely, in so much despair he wouldn’t accept your help in readjusting.”

No answer.

“What part of the picture are we missing, Ms. Wallenburg?”

Her eyes lost lawyer-steel and turned human. Another quick blink restored them to flat, jade disks.

I said, “What happened to him during those hidden years?”

The phone rang. She picked it up and said, “Sure, put it through. Hi, Mort, what’s up? That? I sent it yesterday, you should be getting it any minute. What’s that? Absolutely. No, just taking life easy.”

Making a show of relaxation, she sat back, chatted, did more listening, finally glanced our way.

Feigned surprise at our presence and kept talking.

A tall blond assistant in a suit almost as nice as Wallenburg’s entered the office on lethal heels. “Gentlemen, the garage just called. Your car is ready.”

John Nguyen said, “There’s nothing I can do, Milo.”

“Even if she’s harboring a fugitive.”

“Did she acknowledge that she was?”

“She claimed she wasn’t.”

“Do you have evidence to the contrary?”

“It’s pretty obvious Huck reached out to her. I’m sure she’s got an idea where he’s bunked down.”

Nguyen said, “You keep putting me in this position.”

“What position?”

“Having to be Mr. Ice Bath. What you have doesn’t mean squat, Milo, and you’re too experienced not to know that.”

We were at the Pacific Dining Car on Sixth, just west of Down-town. Nguyen was demolishing a surf and turf. Reed and I stuck with soda water. Milo had ordered but he had no appetite, which meant the world was coming to an end.

“Jesus, John, do you have any idea how high-profile this could get?”

“Seen the memos,” said Nguyen. “Also heard rumors about your boss’s slowing down the process.”

“Well, now my bosses want everything sped up. I told Wallenburg I thought she’d dummied up deliberately and she didn’t argue.”

“Her situation, that’s what I’d do, Milo.”

“John, we’ve got a goddamn serial lust maniac out there and she can help us find him.”

“Maybe.”

“She’s the hero of Huck’s story, I’m sure he turned to her when he rabbited. Even without explicit knowledge of his whereabouts, she’s likely to have a pretty good idea.”

“Prove that she’s harboring and I’ll see if there’s some way I can twist it in your favor.”

“Surveillance on her would be-”

“Your choice, but I wouldn’t be heavy-handed about it. Debora’s going to be ready for you and if you overstep, she’ll slam you with a civil suit.”

“So lawyers get special privileges,” said Reed.

“Hey, that’s why we become lawyers.” Nguyen forked a huge piece of steak. Reconsidered and sawed it in half. “What do you really expect to learn from watching her? She’s not going to drive her Ferrari straight to Huck’s crib.”

“She’s got a Ferrari?”

“And a Maybach-the super-Mercedes,” said Nguyen. “What’s that, four hundred grand, excluding the gas-guzzler tax?”

“Crime pays,” said Reed.

“I drive a Honda, don’t make me cry. I knew Debora back when I was in school and she was teaching criminal law. She was a great lecturer as well as one of the best PDs in the city.”

Milo said, “She make all that money shuffling corporate paper?”

“Not directly,” said Nguyen. “Shortly after she switched to corporate, she was assigned to drawing up the contracts on a bunch of gazillion-dollar dot-com deals. Invested early and cashed out at the right time. I don’t know why she bothers practicing anymore.”

“Must be the thrill,” said Milo.

“Ha ha ha.” Nguyen dipped lobster in drawn butter, sipped his martini.

“John, if I asked you for a tap on her-”