Daniel Palmer - Helpless

“I’m worried the police are going to focus on my dad,” Jill said. “What if Mitchell Boyd had something to do with Lindsey’s disappearance?”

“Well, I can speak with the Shilo PD and make sure they have all this information,” Rainy said.

“That would be a big help,” said Marvin. “I don’t think anything we have to say will carry much weight with them.”

“Did you tell the police what you told me?” asked Rainy.

“No,” Tom said. “But when you talk to them, you can’t mention that I broke into the house. They can’t know.”

“Why?”

“Because Roland Boyd could use that to press charges against me. If he starts to feel any heat on Mitchell, he could say that he wasn’t aware I’d broken into his home. It would get my bail revoked. Jill would be left vulnerable.”

“I see,” Rainy said. “Well, I can tell them Jill’s side of the story. They need to know where to start looking.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” said Tom.

Marvin appeared satisfied, but Jill looked worried.

“Mitchell won’t do anything with your pictures, Jill,” Tom said. “Not with people watching him now.”

“After I talk to the Shilo PD, I think I’ll take a trip over to Roland Boyd’s house myself,” said Rainy.

“Why?” Tom asked.

“I’d like to see just how cooperative Roland Boyd and his son feel like being with me.”

“That sounds great,” Marvin said. “I’ve got a trip planned for the afternoon myself.”

Tom shot Marvin a surprised look. “Where are you going? I thought you said you had witness depositions for my case this afternoon.”

“I moved them,” Marvin said. “I managed to get a meeting at Cortland & Associates this afternoon.”

“Cortland? What for?” Tom asked.

“Can’t say just yet, but I think these guys do a lot more than help creeps like Frank Dee erase their digital past.”

Marvin Pressman used the power of intention to create the perfect parking space. As he cruised the one-way streets and maddening intersections of downtown Boston in his pre-owned Subaru Impreza, he softly recited his foolproof space-making mantra. “There’ll be a space in front of the building…. There’ll be a space in front of the building.” Sure enough, as Marvin neared the twelve-story office tower where Cortland & Associates was headquartered, the taillights of a gray sedan flashed, and soon after, the car vacated a metered space five steps from his destination.

Marvin fished two hours’ worth of quarters from an ashtray that had never been blemished by a single ash. He exited the car, fed the meter, and paused to study his reflection in the building’s tall ground-level window.

You’re getting there…. Five more pounds…

Hugging his briefcase close to his side, Marvin spun through the revolving glass door and emerged into an air-conditioned marble foyer that spoke of success. He signed in at the security desk, stuck his peel-away name badge to his suit’s breast pocket, and took the elevator to the tenth floor.

Gold-plated letters spelling out CORTLAND & ASSOCIATES filled one black marble wall of the tenth-floor lobby. The double glass doors to Cortland’s offices were locked, and they opened only after Marvin pushed a button on the intercom.

Marvin approached the reception desk. “I have a meeting with Simon Cortland,” he announced to the receptionist.

“Yes, Mr. Pressman. Please have a seat. Mr. Cortland will be with you shortly.”

Marvin sat on one of the stylish black leather chairs in the waiting area. He felt uncomfortably low to the ground.

Simon Cortland soon appeared. He was tall, accentuating Marvin’s low position. Marvin wondered if that was the furniture’s intended purpose. Cortland was dressed splendidly in a dark blue suit, pink shirt, and rich burgundy tie. He looked young, handsome, and rich. Marvin disliked him for those offenses alone.

“Marvin Pressman?”

“Yes,” Marvin said. “Simon Cortland, I presume.”

“Correct. Pleasure to meet you,” Cortland said.

Cortland’s handshake was firm. The man’s cuff links were gold, and his shoes Italian. Marvin felt woefully underdressed, despite having worn the best suit in his arsenal.

“I’m glad our schedules worked out for this meeting,” Marvin said.

Cortland nodded and said, “Me too. We’re incredibly busy, and I’m with clients more than I’m in the office. You caught a lucky break. A client meeting was canceled. My colleague, Aaron Donovan, is waiting for us in the conference room. Please, follow me.”

Marvin took in what he could of the office layout as he trailed Cortland to the conference room.

The floor layout was the typical division of the haves and have-nots. The closed door offices had views of the city skyline. The gray-walled cubicles in the interior space offered views of the neighboring cube.

Cortland held open the conference room door. Marvin entered first. A man, whom Marvin assumed to be Aaron Donovan, rose from his high-back leather chair to greet him. They exchanged business cards after shaking hands. Donovan was essentially a Cortland clone, dressed in equal splendor. The man hid his confidence with all the subtlety of a floodlight. Marvin took a seat at the expansive conference table, across from the two.

“All I’ve shared with Aaron is that you have a high-net-worth client in need of our services,” Cortland began, “but I don’t have the specifics.”

Marvin took out a yellow legal pad from his briefcase and set a ballpoint pen atop a blank page. “My client is a resident of Shilo, New Hampshire,” Marvin began. “He’s been charged with a felony. I’m his attorney of record. However, we’re also friends. He’s looking to rebuild his life and salvage his reputation once this unfortunate incident is behind him.”

“And how is it you came to Cortland & Associates?” Donovan asked. “The majority of our public relations work is done for corporations.”

“Well, reputations spread—both the good and the bad. Isn’t that your business?”

Cortland cleared his throat and made a slight hand gesture, indicating to Donovan that he take the lead.

“Our business services encompass a broad spectrum of capabilities,” Donovan said. “Strategic planning, crisis communication, media relations, and even investor training.”

“Reputation management is a core competency as well, is it not?” Marvin asked. “At least it says so on your Web site.”

Cortland nodded. “Yes. We have a business unit dedicated to reputation management. With the explosion of the social Web in recent years, we believe this will become an increasingly important component of our business.”

“Which is exactly why I came to you,” Marvin said. “My client is quite well off, as I’ve told you. So funding his reemergence, if you will, won’t be a problem. My interest lies with the approach. How is it you go about salvaging corporate reputations under attack?”

Cortland passed Donovan a look that encouraged the man to answer and signaled to Marvin that he was the technical brains behind the operation.

“It’s really all about measurement and trust,” Donovan began.

Marvin shrugged his shoulders to show he wasn’t following. “Feel free to consider me an ignorant lawyer who knows nothing about your business processes, because, in fact, that is what I am.”

Cortland smiled at Marvin. “Your friend is lucky to have you take such an interest in his life outside the trial,” he said.

“He’s been a good friend to me over the years. I consider us both lucky.”

Donovan continued with his explanation. “We have tremendous technology talent on staff,” he said.