TLC Shots

C.A.J. Part 4

(2:02 AM Monday, NYPD)

Thorne tapped the table and nearly dropped his head on it as well. He was so mind numbingly bored and hyperactive that half of his body was wide awake, and the other was practically unconscious. What helped even out the tension and sleep deprivation was the opening of the door.

For one, it helped him wake up because the door had suck an obnoxious creaking that it made Thorne's ears ring. But upon seeing his lawyer, Thorne's eyes attempted to roll into the back of his head. Mainly because it wasn't the guy who he hired to be his lawyer.

The man he talked to years ago about helping with his legality issues was a much older, much more experienced man. With gray hair and sunken eyes. You would have been intimidated at you if he looked you in the eyes a certain way.

This ... this kid, he was younger than Thorne. He looked like his dad bought him a ticket to Harvard University and lived in a house that was bigger than a farm. His hair was sort of messy, but his clothes were designer and Thorne swore his briefcase was over a thousand bucks. What with the quality of the leather and the intricate lock on the bridge.

Thorne was underwhelmed at the sight of his lawyer, to say the least.

He plopped down in the seat on the opposite side of the table and placed his briefcase on the table. "Thank you, Officer. I can take it from here."

Thorne knew what was coming next. From the doorway, Benoit snarled, "That's detective, mister." She slammed the door behind her. It relieved Thorne from the awful creaking, but the slam blew out his eardrums.

"Okay," Thorne's lawyer gulped. Like Thorne, his lawyer had already grown to fear that woman. From this, Thorne surmised the guy wasn't a complete idiot. Might as well give him a chance. "So, I have some preliminary questions for you. Just basic stuff, pertaining to the current case."

"Alright," Thorne agreed, his sleep reclaiming him.

Right off the bat, he asks, "Did you steal the necklace?"

Immediately, Thorne knows this guy isn't the man he talked to on the phone all those years ago. Not even close. He would have know that Thorne stole the necklace and was hiding it somewhere. Rather than be honest (because who does that anymore?), Thorne did what he does best.

He answered the question with his own, because he loves to make people of higher authority to him confused.

"Did they find the necklace on me? Or at my place?" Thorne inquired, slightly curious. It had been two hours since Benoit and Kesley arrested him and threw him out of his own house. If they'd found the arsenal, he was doomed. If they hadn't, the warrant would be up soon, and they'd have to get out of his house.

If they didn't find the necklace, all they would have was Winter's shaky and unreliable word. She may have been loved and respected by thousands in New York, but that didn't change the fact that she struggled with mental disorders. She said a man that looked like Thorne was the culprit.

That would never hold up in court. Not if the police couldn't find the necklace in his possession.

The lawyer raked his hand through his hair, nervous. "The police say they haven't found the necklace at your house, and that they still don't know where it is. But ... did you actually steal it?"

Thorne shrugged. "The police haven't found it yet. So I'm guessing I don't have it."

At that, the young lawyer seemed peeved. He opened his briefcase and pulled out various files. Some of them looked like duplicates of the ones the police had for the crimes Thorne was suspected of committing. Of course, they never found solid evidence. He was never convicted of any of his past crimes.