Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (133 page)

“Hello,” I answered, my voice deep and groggy. I cleared my throat. “Hello?”

A soft laugh came through the receiver.

“Angela? That you?” I asked. She was the girl I mentored who was most likely to end up drunk and stranded at a party.

Silence.

I waited another moment. When nothing else came through the line, I sighed and hung up.

Mysterious phone calls no longer perturbed me. They were all in the line of duty. Every attorney I knew received them. It was the oldest trick in the book. I swear lawyers back in the Wild West had received telegrams with
heavy breathing stop heavy breathing stop heavy breathing stop
written on them. I flipped on my lamp and took out my field notes. I wrote the date and time of the phone call to use for reference. I’d been getting more calls than usual since I’d been on the State vs. Williams case.

I put away the notebook and flopped back on my pillow. Closing my eyes, I relaxed under the blanket. The smell of my new air freshener wafted to me. I could hear the soft tick-tock of the grandfather clock in my living room. I shifted to my other side. Dangit. The caller had woken me up and I couldn’t fall back to sleep.

There was no use fighting it. I’d always been nocturnal. On nights before big events, like the court date tomorrow, I’d pop an Ambien so I’d be rested.

I got up, wriggled my feet into some slippers, and made my bed. It was an old habit. The foster care system had taught me there were few things in life you could control, but a made bed was one of them.

Then I went after my case notes. I’d seen the pictures of Tracy Mulligan, but they still shocked me with their brutality every time. I rehearsed how I could explain them to the jury. With just enough details, they would feel a visceral reaction at the torture she went through, but add too many and they’d feel like it was superfluous.

I never had nightmares while I slept. No, they came when I was awake. Reality haunted me more than any fiction could. All I could think about was Tracy. The police discovered her hanging from the rafters in an old barn. He had electrocuted her and hung her body afterwards as if she were his trophy. The murderer, Hank Williams, was caught at the scene of the crime, and ever since then, he’d all but mocked the case, as if he knew something nobody else did. He was rich, the only son of a real-estate tycoon, owner of Williams, Inc., he was powerful, and he lawyered up with four of the best defense attorneys money could buy. But still, I had enough proof to lock him away, or get him much worse. Then why did I feel like I hadn’t prepared enough?

I took a drink and splashed some cold water on my face.
Come on, Sarah, you have a good case. Let it go and trust your instincts. You’ll nail this guy to the wall.
I would not lose, no matter how many lawyers he hired. Williams was going down for murder one way or another.

And if he doesn’t go down, I’ll do him in myself.
It was the dead of night, but I still covered my face with my hands, embarrassed. I shook the thought away. This was what happened to me at night. I became something different. Wild thoughts that I held back during the day came rushing to me like kids to an ice cream truck. They surrounded me—memories of what had been done to me as a kid, plans of what I could do to get revenge on people who escaped justice, and even detailed images of what I would do to them. It was the feral side of me, the side I kept locked up.

Who was I really—the successful, happy attorney or the wild, angry vigilante? Even I didn’t know.

CHAPTER TWO

I DUG INTO MY oatmeal as I also dug into the morning paper. It was my ritual.

The paper regularly ran a front-page article on the case. It often mentioned my name, Sarah Steele, the up-and-coming assistant district attorney. I smiled at the photo splashed on the front page. It was of me pushing my way through reporters, looking down to keep from tripping over a cameraman.

First, I noticed how long my blonde hair was getting. I was due for a cut. Second, I noticed how it seemed like the camera was pointed more at my legs than my face. At first I felt offended, but then I had to concede that it was a nice shot. I worked out almost every day, either with the girls at the dojo or running around the lake. Exercising got my mind off things—work, friend drama, my mom, my latest screwup with a boyfriend—but most of all, the constant storm of memories trying to drown me.

I did not look much like the average ADA, with my blonde hair and light blue eyes. My looks had led to many deadbeat ex-boyfriends. I had thought that by the time I was twenty-eight, I would be married, with three bratty kids running around and a rodent dog. So much for plans.

I scanned the rest of the article. It went into the nature of the crime and told a little about me and how I was a foster-care-system-brat-turned-successful-attorney. It had only been two years since I graduated, and being young and a woman didn’t exactly make me target number one for a high-profile job. But I was tough, and even when I wasn’t, I faked it. This business did not allow me to be off—ever.

This case had me worried, though. Hank Williams and his group of sharks always sat with smug looks on their faces, making me think they had something up their sleeves. I mentally scanned what we had on him and shook my head. We had an overwhelming amount of evidence, but that’s what worried me.

It was
too
easy.

We had the body, with trace evidence still on her and in her. We had his DNA and his prints on the stun gun he used to kill her. The police picked Hank Williams up just south of town at an abandoned farmhouse in foreclosure. He was asleep next to a tub full of bloody water. The neighbor had called the police. It was about as open and shut as it could get.

I sipped my green tea with a hint of honey and breathed in its steam. Drinking it made me feel clean inside. I never went a morning without it. By the end of the day I needed thick, black coffee, but I always wanted to start fresh.

My apartment overlooked the beautiful Boise skyline, and this morning the haze seemed a little heavier than usual.
Nothing like crisp, clean, city air.
We had it most of the time, but not this week.

My cell phone buzzed and I looked at the number. It was Angela. I answered as I took my bowl to the sink.

“I saw your picture in the paper,” she said in her sweet girly voice with a hint of an Italian accent. “And my mom finally believes you really are an important person.”

I laughed. “I’ve been trying to convince my mom of the same thing. I still haven’t succeeded.” I rinsed out my bowl and set it in the dishwasher. “Are you ready for the tournament today?” The girls had been training for a regional kickboxing tournament, and it was today. It killed me that I had to miss it, but this trial had me working long hours without many breaks.

“I just need you to wish me luck before I leave.” Her voice muffled and I heard Jessie and Cassandra yell, “Wish us luck too. She can’t have it all.”

“Good luck,” I shouted with a laugh. “You are each powerful, inside and out. Angela, remember not to stray too close to your opponent during the fight. Jessie, follow through with your roundhouse. Cassandra, your left jab is your greatest strength—don’t forget to use it. And remember to have fun.”

“We’ll come back with medals to decorate our dojo,” Angela said. “Bye!”

I smiled as I hung up. Those girls were challenging, rough, and time-consuming. But they were more than worth it. They helped distract me from the despair I felt over what I came across at work. And when I was being honest with myself, I knew they helped me feel like I was fixing something that I’d broken a long time ago. If only I’d had an older person by my side when I was young, maybe I wouldn’t have gone through what I did.

As I slipped into my high heels, my phone buzzed again. It was the office. “Steele,” I answered.

“You out of bed? We need you down here right away.” It was my boss, Dan Butler. Just the sound of his voice set me on edge. He was a constant thorn in my side.

“What’s up? You get something new on Williams?” I downed the last of my tea and headed to the bathroom as I spoke.

“You could say that. We have a meeting with the judge at ten. They said they have something of immediate importance.”

It must be bad if the judge is calling an impromptu meeting.
“I’m on my way.”

I thought of a million different reasons for an emergency meeting. None of them were in my favor. Did they have the stones to plead insanity
?
Maybe they were going to tell us he escaped or killed himself. Neither scenario was out of the realm of what this guy would try to pull.

At twenty till ten, I made my way up the courthouse steps and went into the ladies’ room to make sure I looked the part. My hair was pulled back in a comfortable pony and I wore my black suit jacket with a short skirt to match. I looked professional, but still like a woman. I put on a fresh coat of lip gloss and then rubbed it off, thinking better than to look
too
put together. Then I made my way to chambers.

I could tell the judge’s wife had decorated his room. There were too many fake flowers and decorative urns. Even though the room was large, it seemed crowded. Too many people in here were too big for their britches. There was Dan Butler, in his designer suit and haircut that cost more than mine. Then on the other side of the room were Williams’ four lawyers, all in black. When the judge came into the room, I stood, along with the others. Dan shoved his hands into his pockets, which he only did when he was nervous.

“Have a seat.” The judge was a curt old pig who had been on the bench when dinosaurs still walked the earth. I thought he was rude and pretentious and everything in between, but when it came down to it, he was fair.

“I have been presented with new evidence. It seems that a member of the jury has come into some money as of late.”

I swallowed. This could mean getting a whole new jury. I didn’t want a new jury. I liked
our
jury.

The judge cleared his throat and continued. “The juror said he was paid to make sure the defendant would be found guilty.” He looked up from behind his spectacles and smirked.

“If you are accusing me or anyone in my office of buying off the jury, you are mistaken,” Dan objected. “We have an open-and-shut case.”

But the defense attorneys wouldn’t let him get away with that—they chimed in with their piece. This was just what they had been waiting for—I knew it in the pit of my stomach. Maybe this was why Williams had looked so smug.

“The defense asks for an immediate mistrial upon such evidence. The media has already been portraying my client as a cold-blooded murderer, and any effort to find an unbiased jury is now out of the question.” The bald lawyer, Mr. Sawyer, stood as if he was going to leave.

“Sit down, Mr. Sawyer,” the judge ordered. Sawyer sat. “I will call for a replacement—that is why we have them. I won’t call for a mistrial. The jury pool has been sequestered and you are free to interview the alternates, if you’d like.” The room grew silent.

I seethed inside. It was a ballsy move to bribe the jury, but one that didn’t surprise me. I didn’t think any of these attorneys did it—they were too afraid of the consequences. But Williams—he wouldn’t be above such things. This meant he had a network, people on the outside to do things for him.

If this cost me the case, so help me, I’d hunt that network down.

“We object, Your Honor,” Sawyer said. “The jury pool has been tainted. How do we know more have not been paid off?” Sawyer shot a look of disgust my way and I gave him a death glare.

I spoke, my voice calm. “Why would we pay anyone? Not only would that be unethical and downright absurd, but we have no reason to mess this trial up.”

“You overestimate the power of evidence and underestimate the power of a jury,” the judge said in a snide voice. He suddenly blinked at me, as if realizing who he was talking to. He turned to Dan. I tensed at the slight, but then relaxed when I remembered that he just wanted to get me worked up. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Mr. Butler,” he said, “there is no such thing as an open–and-shut case. Surprises are always possible. Nothing like this can happen again or I’ll declare a mistrial.”

It was sinking in how close we were to losing this case before we even got started. My heart sped up and I willed the judge to decide in our favor.

He continued. “There will be a full investigation into this matter, but my ruling is final.”

The four sharks consulted with each other. One of them, a white-haired man with a pink tie, was more animated than the rest. I leaned in, trying to hear what they said, but I couldn’t. Finally, they turned and said, “No objections.”

“Good. We will continue as planned and I will see you in my courtroom in one hour. And when I find out who is behind this, I will seek to have the culprit charged to the full extent of the law. Good day.”