This time, Zan did not respond to the media when she and Charley Shore arrived at the Central Park Precinct. Instead, ducking her head, she ran from the car to the front door with Charley’s arm under her elbow. They were escorted to the now familiar interrogation room, where Detectives Billy Collins and Jennifer Dean were waiting for them.
Without greeting her, Collins said, “I hope you didn’t forget to bring your passport, Ms. Moreland.”
Charley Shore answered for her. “We have the passport.”
“Good, because the judge will want it,” Billy said. “Ms. Moreland, why didn’t you share with us that you were planning to fly to Buenos Aires next Wednesday?”
“Because I wasn’t,” Zan said calmly. “And before you ask, neither did I clean out my bank account. I’m sure you’ve checked that by now.”
“What you are saying is that the same imposter who stole your child also bought you a one-way ticket to Argentina and helped herself to your bank account?”
“That is exactly what I am saying,” Zan said. “And in case you don’t know it yet, that same person ordered clothes at the stores where I have an account, and also ordered all the supplies I would have needed for the interior design job I bid on.”
The frown on Charley Shore’s face reminded her that he had told her to answer questions, but not to volunteer any information. She turned to him. “Charley, I know what you’re thinking, but I don’t have anything to hide. Maybe if these detectives look into all those activities, they’ll discover that even just one of them couldn’t have been done by me. And maybe then it is possible they will look at each other and one of them will say, ‘Well, maybe she was telling the truth.’ ”
Zan looked back at the detectives. “Clap if you believe in miracles,” she said. “I am here to be arrested. Can we possibly begin the process?”
They stood up. “We do that downtown at the courthouse,” Billy Collins told her. “We’ll drive you there.”
It doesn’t take long to be an accused felon, she thought an hour later, after the arrest warrant was issued, a number was assigned to it, and she had been fingerprinted and had her mug shot taken.
From there she was taken into a courtroom to stand in front of a stern-faced judge. “Ms. Moreland, you are being charged here with kidnapping, obstruction of justice, and interference with parental custody,” he told her. “If you can make bail, you cannot leave the country without the permission of the court. Do you have your passport with you?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Charley Shore answered for her.
“Surrender it to the court clerk. Bail is set at two hundred fifty thousand dollars.” The judge stood up and walked out of the courtroom.
Zan turned to Charley, panic-stricken. “Charley, I can’t raise that much money. You know I can’t.”
“Alvirah and I spoke about this possibility. She’s putting up the deed to her apartment for security with a bondsman and will lend you the bondsman’s fee. As soon as I call Willy, he’ll be on his way here with it. When the bail is straightened out, you’ll be free to go.”
“Free to go,” Zan whispered, looking down at the black smudges she had not been able to scrub from her fingers, “free to go.”
“This way, ma’am.” A court officer took her arm.
“Zan, you have to wait in a holding cell until Willy puts up the bail. As soon as I talk to him, I’ll come back and wait with you,” Charley told her. “You’ve got to understand this is all routine stuff.”
Her feet leaden, Zan allowed herself to be walked through a nearby door. It opened onto a narrow passage. At the end of it was an empty cell with an open toilet and a bench. At the slight prodding of the uniformed officer, she stepped inside the cell and heard the key turn in the lock behind her.
No Exit, she thought wildly, remembering the Sartre play by that name. I played the role of the adulteress in it in college. No exit. No exit. She turned and looked at the bars, then tentatively put her hands on them. My God, how can it have come to this? she thought. Why? Why?
She stood there unmoving for nearly half an hour, then Charley Shore returned. “I spoke to the bail bondsman, Zan,” he said. “Willy should be here in a few minutes. He has to sign a few papers, turn over the deed, pay the fee, and you’ll be out of here. I know how it must feel for you, but this is the moment your lawyer, meaning me, knows what we’re up against and starts to fight.”
“An insanity defense? Isn’t that what you’re thinking, Charley? I’ll bet it is. In the office before you got there, Josh and I had the television in the back room on. The CNN anchor was interviewing a doctor who specialized in multiple personalities. In his brilliant opinion, I may be a very likely candidate for that kind of defense. Then he cited a case where the defense pleaded that the core person did not know what the personality who committed crimes was doing.
“You know what the judge said to that defense argument, Charley?” Zan shrieked. He said, “I don’t care how many personalities that woman has. They all have to obey the law!”
Charley Shore looked into Zan’s blazing eyes and knew there was no way he could either reassure or comfort her.
He decided not to insult her by attempting to do either.