Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (135 page)

If anyone looked unsure at the moment, it was Kathleen. I internally groaned. The jury looked gone already, as if they didn’t need to hear any more.

Giving up, she shook her head. No. She wasn’t sure.

Sometimes I wished I were a defense attorney—all they had to do was show reasonable doubt. So much for my eyewitness.

CHAPTER SIX

I SIPPED ON A glass of ice water as the courtroom started to clear out. I listened to the murmurs and whispers of the audience as they filed out to go print or publish the events of the day. They spoke of the defendant in strident terms. “Monster … heartless creep.” It was all good as far as I was concerned. But they also had their doubts, and more than a shadow of them. “With no DNA and an unclear witness statement, it’ll come down to the fingerprints, the cops finding him at the scene of the crime, and the defendant’s testimony.”

Dan stood and stuffed papers into his leather briefcase. His tall frame looked good in a suit, but he was currently wearing a large frown that ruined his features. “That was a debacle,” he said, glaring at me. “I thought you said we had a strong witness.”

Taking another sip of water, I hesitated. “You know as well as I do that you never know how good a witness is until after they’ve testified.” I tried to keep my voice calm, but underneath I was a jumble of fear and anger.

“We still have a strong case,” I said, hoping he’d keep it in my hands. “We have the police testimony of finding him on the scene with the murder weapon—it doesn’t get much more clear than that.”

Dan pursed his lips. “It was a lot clearer eight hours ago.”

Joshua, the intern, was caught in the fireworks between Dan and me. He looked like he wanted to disappear, which would be impossible considering his 300-lb. Samoan build. He had a shaved head, trendy black-framed glasses, and was fresh out of law school. He was born and raised in Hawaii, and despite what people say about the laid-back nature of the Samoans, he was as driven as they come. He’d logged in just as much time on this case as I had, worked tirelessly, and he had a vision and understanding about things that I respected. He watched the people file out of the room, but he was listening intently as I argued for our case.

I looked down at my case notes. They represented months of research and testimonies and long hours at the office. I not only knew everything I could about the murder, but I had also learned everything I could about Hank Williams and Tracy Mulligan.

“No one can handle this better than me,” I said quietly, with conviction.

Dan took in my statement. I stared back at him. After a moment, I saw acceptance wash across his face.

“What are you going to do about this?” he asked.

That was the thing I liked about Dan—he was direct. And I knew exactly what I was going to do.

“I’m going to go to the scene of the crime to wrap my head around what happened that night.” I took a breath. “And then I’m going to get an appointment with Williams’ daughter, Hannah, and see if I can’t get her to testify. I’m sure she knows more than what she’s let on. I couldn’t get an appointment with her before, and I didn’t pursue it since we had enough on Williams.”

Dan frowned. “Things have changed.”

“I know,” I said. “We need more on him.”

He nodded. His forehead was wrinkled—he looked stressed. “All right, then. Get on it.” He picked up his briefcase and turned to leave. “Meet you back at the office.” Joshua followed him.

I stayed seated. It had been a long day—I needed a moment.

Dan turned. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. His dark eyes glanced me over. “I’ll order dinner for us to share. My treat. And then you can sleep over at my place.”

That’s what I disliked about Dan—he was
too
direct. His “place” was an apartment above our office building. He was married, but it was known that he slept around. He had me on his list of subjects to bed. I pretended not to have any idea what a creep he was and blew him off.

“Can’t. Besides, your wife might like to have a nice family dinner with you every now and again.”

He winced and walked toward the door. I’d probably suffer one way or another for that slight to his ego—or he’d take it as a challenge. Either way, he wasn’t getting what he was after. I’d rather kiss a few more frogs than give in to him.

Looking over the empty courtroom, I noticed a marble statue of Lady Justice poised over the witness stand like an angel of hope. Her blindfold promised equality, but so many times it was nothing but a chance for those in front of her to try pulling tricks and playing games.

Come on, Miss Sentimental, time to get to work.
As I hit the main lobby, I was bombarded by the media and their thousand questions. I pushed through them and got into a black Ford. It was a company car and most of the time we didn’t get them, but for this case I requested it because of the media pressure.

“Ninth and Idaho, please.”

The tanned, unshaven driver looked me over in the rearview mirror and nodded. He took a bite from a large red apple and then pulled onto the road. He said nothing more as we drove through traffic. I didn’t remember seeing this driver before, but they frequently changed.

I called Joshua and asked him to make an appointment with Hannah Williams, preferably by tomorrow morning, and told him he couldn’t take no for an answer.

I looked up and suddenly noticed The Pour House, a pub that was nowhere near the office. Where was the driver going? Alarm bells went off in my head. The driver wasn’t looking my way. I quietly grabbed my purse and retrieved my phone. With bated breath, I dialed 9-1-1 and looked up as I pressed the send button.

I stared down the barrel of a gun. “Give me your phone, Miss Steele.” The car jerked to a stop on the side of the road. I handed him the phone, and my heart sank when he disconnected the call.

“Time to sleep, Miss Steele.”

He fired. A dart plunged into my chest. A cold rush flowed through my body. I screamed, but only a whimper came out. The world started to spin. Reaching for the door handle, I yanked, but there was no strength behind my grip. I was blacking out and I knew it. My head slumped forward and I felt the back of the front seat smash into my jaw.

Then nothing.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I SAT UP WITH a start. My head pounded like a hammer. I tried to pull my hands free, but they were strapped to the chair where I sat. I blinked a few times and tested the gag jammed in my mouth. It tasted like mothballs and rum. Not a good combo.

Think, Sarah, find the markers. Windows, sounds, anything to track this place down later.
But I couldn’t see because they’d put a hood over my head. There were strong paint fumes in the air. The sound of footsteps on the concrete floor made me turn my head.
Heels. Not a woman’s. Expensive dress shoes.

“Take the hood off.” The male voice was commanding, yet soft, like the voice of someone who didn’t fear anything or anyone. The hood was pulled off and a burst of light hit my eyes. A lamp pointed straight at my face so all I could see were a few shadows. They surrounded me like I was some kind of attraction at the zoo.

I tried to collect my bearings. My legs were untied. My hands were bound tight to the arms of a metal office chair. By the acoustics of the place and the dampness in the air, I thought we had to be in a basement.

The same man spoke again. “Hello, Miss Steele. I am … well, I am against you. We need the Williams case to go away.” I thought I’d heard his voice before. Like it was a voice in a commercial or something. I couldn’t place it.

I didn’t pull or struggle on my restraints. I wasn’t even sweating. My vision had cleared and I studied the ground. There was yellowed carpet glue in thin lines on the concrete floor. I saw green carpet lint littering the floor.

I could feel the monster within me trying to get out. But I wouldn’t let it. Not yet, not again.

“What are you going to do?” I asked in a dark voice. “Bribe me? Rough me up and threaten my family? Or whatever you saw on the latest episode of
Law & Order?”

“No, miss,” the man said. I heard him take a step forward. “It’s not as if we could mess up your family any more than it already is. Your mother’s in jail for murdering your father.”

No matter how many times I’d heard it, the fact still sent a searing pain through my chest. It hadn’t dulled over the years. He was right—the situation couldn’t get any worse, and he didn’t even know the half of it.

I pushed back the pain and raised my chin. The light dried out my eyes, and I squinted to see better.

One of the men to the side shifted, and I could see his features through the dim light. He wore a smooth black suit and a red tie. He stood around six feet tall. He was well groomed, with a small goatee and trimmed black hair.
Firstborn and very type A.
Not one wrinkle in sight.

The man in charge spoke again. “I know that no matter what I say, you will go on your way and do your best to win your case. So I’m going to make you a promise.” With a click, the room went dark. My heart quickened. “If you don’t let this trial go, I promise that Hank Williams will do to you exactly what he did to Tracy Mulligan.” My mouth went dry. “Except he’ll take much longer with you.”

Bile rose in my throat and I swallowed it down. I needed to get out of here. Now. What did I have? My legs were free. As if a reflex took over, I got to my feet, bent in half from the chair. With a feral cry, I charged the voice. The light clicked back on, blinding me, but I was moving too fast to be stopped. I lunged at the middle shadow.

My head hit his chest and he caved, dropping to the floor. My weight knocked the wind out of him. I twisted in the chair, and the metal back socked him in the jaw. Moving again, I rolled to my knees just as something hit my head.

Before I lost consciousness, I saw a face. A face that looked identical to Hank Williams’.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MY HEAD FELT LIKE it was stuck under a truck tire. I rubbed my eyes and felt something sticky—blood. I looked around to find myself back in my apartment and in my own bed.

I sat up—too fast. The room swam as I steadied myself and then stumbled to the door. My apartment looked the same as I had left it. My purse was on the table and my phone and keys were laid out neatly in front of it. I cursed.

It was 8:13 at night, two hours after I’d left the courthouse. Which meant wherever they had taken me had to be close.

I fumbled for my phone, hands shaking. There were six missed calls—one from Joshua, two from Dan, one from Angela, and two from my best friend, Mandy. The screen was still on my disconnected call to 9-1-1. I pushed redial.

“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?” a male voice answered.

“I’d like to report a kidnapping—” My voice broke as what had happened to me sank in. Tears came to my eyes and my throat clenched. I swallowed down the rising panic attack.

After giving him a few details in a hoarse voice and getting a promise that a detective was headed my way, I hung up.

Glancing around the room, I saw that all my blinds were open. I rushed to each window, eyes wide in panic, yanking the blinds shut. By the time each one was closed, tears poured down my face and I curled up in the corner and gave in to my frustration.