Framed (17 page)

Nodding, I grabbed my phone from my purse and googled the SA’s office for Pensacola and found the main number. My leg bounced as I waited for the operator to answer.

Mr. Montoya had rewound the video until Drum and the other masked men were frozen on the screen. My temper spiked as I stared at Drum. I didn’t know what to make of him being at the prison, but one thing I was certain of, it wasn’t good. He had to be behind the attacks on Kade, which meant he was also behind the threat against me.

“County court house, how may I direct your call?”

“Um, yes, I need to speak with the State’s Attorney.”

***

“Here she comes,” Prez stated. “Twenty-six minutes. She had four to spare.”

“The man is coming out, too,” D pointed out.

They watched as Harley got in the same car with the dark-haired man and then took off down the street. Prez started the car and pulled out to follow. As they were pulling out on the main street, Prez’s phone rang. Mickey picked it up and grinned.

“Say’s Harley calling. Do we answer?”

“Let it go to voice mail, we’re supposed to be in the air headed back to Washington.”

They kept following as Harley and the unknown man headed into downtown Pensacola. When they turned into the underground parking for the State’s Attorney’s office, Prez kept going, then turned on the next street to park and wait.

“Did she leave a voice mail?”

“No.”

“Guess we’ll have to wait this out and see what’s what when she’s done.”

“State’s Attorney,” D stated as he studied the building. “Think she’s getting documents?”

“Possible. We’ll give it a couple of hours, then call her.”

“I don’t know, Prez, I’ve got this feeling,” D said as he stared at the exit of the underground parking.

“I’ve got the same one, my brother.”

“Humble pie will taste good if she found something.”

“Like a fuckin’ steak,” Prez agreed as he checked his watch.

His phone rang again and D looked at the screen.

“She obviously doesn’t want to leave a message. I’m going to answer it. She may need our help.”

Prez looked at the phone, then nodded.

“You got D,” Mickey answered.

Prez watched D’s face run the gambit of emotions until it settled on a frown.

“You’re sure this guy is a guard at the prison?”

“Talk to me,” Prez growled.

D held up his hand, listened a minute longer, and then mumbled, “Right, I’ll fill in Prez. And Harley . . . we owe you big time for this.”

D hung up the phone and turned to Prez. “Princess Buttercup found a Nanny Cam video of the night Sutton was killed. It shows three men in the alley behind St. Elmo’s Fire. She has an appointment with the SA as we speak. The man she’s with is named Miguel Montoya,” D paused and smiled to let that oddity sink in. “He’s there to verify it’s his video. Get this; one of the men in the video . . . Harley recognized him as one of the guards at the prison.”

“That’s how they knew about Harley,” Prez replied. “We got a name on this sonofabitch?”

“She says the guard's name is Drum, Ian Drum.”

Reaching for his phone, Prez mumbled, “I’ll call Slater and add this guy to the list. I want to know when he eats, sleeps, and shits.”

“Right. Harley said she’ll call when she gets done with the SA . . . So, do we wait here or see if we can find this guy Drum?”

“We wait. Until Kade is out, we keep a close eye on his woman.”

Nodding in agreement, D turned his head, looked up the street, and saw a hot dog vendor.
Time for supplies.

“You want a dog?”

Prez raised a brow.

“Or ten?”

“Better make it an even dozen,” Prez mumbled, “somethin’ tells me Harley ain’t leavin’ ’til she has a court order signed for Kade’s release.”

“She’s definitely a member of The Brute Squad now,” D stated as he opened his door. “A Nanny Cam, Prez. The Navy’s finest were shown up by a slip of a woman and a Nanny Cam.”

“God bless overprotective sons,” Prez chuckled.

“God bless women in love,” D smiled.

***

Newly appointed State’s Attorney Derrick Chapel was a good ole boy from the great state of Texas. He had a laid-back personality that lulled people into the false sense he wasn’t a threat. His slow grin and country drawl had served him well in the courtroom and, it seemed, served him well in the eyes of Pensacola’s Mayor Harland Green. Three days ago, he’d been appointed acting SA after the untimely death of former SA Mark Greystone.

Recommended by the Mayor and approved by the City Council, Chapel now sat behind the desk other ASAs coveted. His appointment had surprised him, if he was honest. He’d been with the SA’s office half the time as some of the other ASAs. Actually, surprised wasn’t the word for what he’d been. Intrigued was probably closer to home. A week ago, the Mayor had approached him about taking over as acting SA during the interim between elections. Said he thought he had what it took to handle the job. Though the Mayor seemed confident in his abilities, he’d also hinted to the fact that he’d like to be kept abreast of any and all his cases, just as a precaution. Chapel had played his good ole boy persona to the max that day, nodding and smiling as he shook the Mayor’s hand. Of course, Mayor Green should never have underestimated Chapel. Just because he favored boots to loafers, and went to church on Sunday like his momma raised him to do, didn’t mean he was a pushover.

Yes, intriguing was definitely the word for his sudden rise within the SA’s office. He knew it, and the other ASAs knew it. Unfortunately for the Mayor, he’d eventually come to realize Chapel wasn’t the puppet he thought he was, and that he’d made a fatal error. One he couldn’t reverse without a majority vote from the city council. A city council Chapel played poker and golf with on a regular basis.

Chapel was grinning at the irony when he walked into his office. The Mayor clearly wanted a man in his back pocket and Chapel was the farthest thing from a puppet the man could put in the SA’s office. He was built like a cowboy because he was one. He was long and lean with plenty of muscle and stood six-foot-two in his bare feet; put him in his boots, and he towered over most men. He had strawberry-blond hair, big blue eyes, and a crooked grin when he saw a woman that turned his head. Just like the one pacing in his outer office when he walked in.

“You must be Ms. Dash,” Chapel stated when she turned around.

He was used to women giving him the once-over when they met, so he was surprised when the woman didn’t bat an eye and got right down to business.

“Yes. This is Mr. Montoya,” she replied, gesturing to a Hispanic man standing at her side. “We came right down like you said.”

Jerking his head towards his office, mumbling, “Follow me,” Chapel moved to his desk and sat down, then indicated with his hand that Ms. Dash and Mr. Montoya should have a seat. Once they were situated, he leaned back in his chair and studied the pair.

He’d arrived in Pensacola twelve months before and wasn’t involved in the Sutton case. To his knowledge, Greystone had handled the homicide on his own, which in and of itself, was an oddity. Reaching forward, he hit the intercom. “Sybil, did you pull the Kingston file like I asked.”

“I put it in your inbox,” Sybil replied.

Chapel found the file, grabbed it from the top, and opened it. Reading the former SA’s notes, he was surprised at how thin the file was.

“You said you had some new evidence that would shed some light on the case?” he mumbled as he continued reading Greystones notes.

“Yes, sir,” Ms. Dash responded.

Chapel looked up, and a slow grin pulled at his lips.

“My father is sir, you can call me Derrick,” he drawled in his Texas twang.

“Thank you, Derrick. I’m Harley and this is Miguel,” she replied. “Did you want to see the security footage?”

Chapel nodded and turned to his computer, firing it up. Harley stood and handed him a disk. While he waited for the disk to load, he looked back at the file and read Kingston’s statement.

“It says here that his defense was there were three men behind the bar. That they were masked, and he couldn’t see their faces. He was hit from behind and when he woke up, he found Sutton, deceased, and the murder weapon in his hand.”

“That’s correct. Shouldn’t you know that already, though?” Harley asked.

Chapel looked up and grinned.

“I didn’t try this case. I just took over as SA this week.”

“Oh, does that mean it will take weeks for you to study the case before you’ll consider setting Kade free?”

Sitting back in his chair, Chapel cocked his head.

“You’re that convinced by this evidence?”

“Absolutely,” both Harley and Miguel responded.

“All right, let’s take a look and see what we’ve got.”

Twenty minutes later, after a thorough cross-examination of Montoya and Dash, his head was pounding and he was flipping back through the notes in Kingston’s file.

His good ole boy had been knocked clean out of him, and he was bordering on plain ole fuckin’ pissed.

Shoddy police work, an inept defense attorney, and from what he could see, an SA who didn’t care about justice and possibly had covered up information. They’d barely investigated and hung Kingston out to dry.

“Well,” Harley asked, her eyes wide as she waited patiently for his answer.

“I’ll put a call into Judge Baer and see how soon I can get an appointment with the man.”

“Just like that? You’re going to set Kade free?” she gasped, jumping from her seat, her eyes pleading him to say he would.

Lucky guy,
Chapel thought, as he looked back and forth between the two.

“I have to confer with the Judge on the case and do some more research,” he answered, not about to get her hopes up. “However, if what I saw just breezing through the file was any indicator, I think reevaluating his case is warranted.”

“Can I leave my number with you?”

“You can, but I can’t discuss the case further with you. What we covered today is a matter of public record, I can’t divulge any further. I can only discuss this case with his attorney or legal representative from here on out.”

“Can you at least tell me how long you think it will take?” Harley said.

“Harley, the wheels of justice turn slowly. I’ll need time to look over the case files. If I’m convinced of his innocence, I’ll have to file a motion to dismiss and convince the Judge. It could take upwards of a month, assuming the evidence supports his innocence.”

“But you saw the video. Surely that proves his innocence and supports what he’s said all along.”

“It sheds light, yes. But it will still take time to investigate. I can’t just walk into the Judge’s office and ask for a dismissal based on the video alone.”

“But you know one of the men works at the prison where he is being held. And there have been attempts on his life already, probably to shut him up or deter him from looking for the real killer. That should prove to you he’s telling the truth.”

“The video puts three other men in the alley, but it doesn’t prove they killed Sutton.”

“How can you say that? Two were wearing masks,” she snapped, her brown eyes flaring in anger.

“For all I know they could have been working together and left Kingston to take the blame for all four of them,” he pointed out.

“You think that a man who just returned home to take care of his dying grandfather was in cahoots to kill Sutton on his first night back? That’s ludicrous and doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“Honestly? No, it doesn’t make sense. But I have to prove that before the conviction can be overturned.”

“Well, what do you need to prove that?” she asked through her teeth, her temper still at a boiling point.

“Time.”

“Time?”

“Yep. Plain old time.”

“Fine,” she bit out before picking up her purse. “I’ll leave you to it then. But keep in mind that every hour Kade is inside, his life is in danger. So if anything happens to him while you’re taking your
time
, I’ll promise you now that I’ll personally make your life a living hell.”

Chapel rose at that threat, leaned forward, both hands on his desk, and smiled.

“Back home, we call women like you ball-busters.”

“Well, here in Florida, we call women like
me
someone to avoid,” she replied sarcastically, then turned on her heel and stormed out of his office.

Chapel looked at Miguel Montoya and lifted a brow.

“I wouldn’t want to be you,” he chuckled.

Nodding, he stuck out his hand and shook the man’s hand.

“Thanks for coming in. I promise to make a determination as quickly as possible.”

“For your sake, I’d put in overtime,” he advised with a smile before exiting the room.

Sitting back in his chair, he looked at the frozen image on his computer. “Okay, we’ll start with you, Mr. Drum.”

Reaching forward, he buzzed Sybil on the intercom. “Call Judge Baer and ask if he can squeeze me in this afternoon.”

“On it,” she replied, then he rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

Three hours later, he walked into Judge Baer’s office with a frown. He was admitted by the Judge’s secretary to an empty office and he took a seat. When Baer walked in, he stood and met the Judge with a smile.

“How’s life as the new SA treating you, Derrick?”

“Up until today, it was treating me kindly.”

Baer looked at the file in his hand and raised a brow. The Judge motioned towards the chair he’d just risen from, indicating he should sit. Chapel did as instructed, then waited for the Judge to get comfortable before he proceeded.

“I can tell by the look on your face you’re going to keep me late, so you might as well lay it out so we can get on with it.”

“Do you recall the Kingston case? Ex-Navy SEAL who was convicted of murder his first night home.”

“I recall it. Greystone went for blood on that case.”

“Today, I received new evidence that proves Kingston’s defense. There
were
three other men behind the bar.”

Baer took a deep breath, then let it out and muttered, “Let me call my wife and tell her to hold dinner. I presume you verified this evidence?”