Shattered Glass (27 page)

“This is a good case,” she said quietly.

“It is,” I agreed.

“After this I need time, Austin. It hurts to see you.” It wounded to hear that. “Okay. I’m here. Always. Whenever you want.”

She took a deep breath and brushed her shoulder purposefully against mine, before pushing off the wall and stepping through the courtroom doors.

“He’s with me,” Angelica told the bailiff at the doors when he stopped my entrance behind her. I followed her in, acutely aware that I had just tried to open my jacket and flash my nonexistent badge. I couldn’t remember the last time I had worn a suit and not had it, and my gun, weighing along my belt.

Inside, the courtroom was empty save the necessary people: myself, three at the defense table, two at the prosecutor’s, two bailiffs and a court reporter. The only person out of place sat primly on the bench behind the defense table.

Rosafa Strakosha, for that was who the woman behind the

hijab had to be, sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Only part of her hair was covered, the black tresses matching neatly with the hijab’s silk material and appearing almost part of it.

Like Cai, her nose was wide and long, her lips full and broad. I set her age at late thirties, early forties—and only because I did the math using her son’s age as a guideline. She could pass for thirty, easy. She turned red-rimmed eyes to me and then lowered them. Her reaction made me curious as to how we would mesh living together. A gay man and an Islamic woman. Something else to worry about, along with the plethora of other things.

I slid into the bench across from her. Not because she made me uncomfortable, or that I wanted to appear in favor of the prosecution, but so that I could read Cai’s face throughout the bail hearings. He wouldn’t be able to speak, that was Angelica’s job, but I wanted every opportunity to judge him. In fact, the whole thing wouldn’t take longer than maybe ten to fifteen minutes—not enough time to get a superb read on the boy.

Which reminded me—I twisted in my seat to check out the gallery—Why was the courtroom so empty?

I should have known then that something was different about this whole case.

When the deputies brought Cai in, I studied him closely, seeking signs this kid had put bullets in the back of two men’s heads. His skin looked taut and his eyes hollow. Stress was not playing kindly with him. Orange did him no favors, either. The vibrant color against his pale skin made it almost seem jaundiced. There was an air of innocence about him—maybe in the way his shoulders were hunched or the constant blinking? I couldn’t place what it was. He dragged is bottom lip through is

teeth multiple times; his lips were red and raw from the gesture.

He never raised his eyes, even when the judge entered.

I understood why Angelica was so adamant about my standing up for this boy. He was way out of his element.

"All rise. Superior Court of the State of Colorado, County of Denver, the Honorable Judge Morris D. Whitaker presiding, is now in session. Please be seated and come to order."

Judge Morris Whitaker was a tall, heavyset black man in his early sixties. I’d been in his courtroom many times, and he’d been to dinner at my parents’ house, with my father, on different occasions. He was a genuine believer in the justice system, but he was fair—and liberal, something I never believed my father could handle in a friendship. And something that would benefit the defense.

“Attorneys of record?”

“Angelica Jackson for the defense, Your Honor.” “Good afternoon, your honor, Will Schoemacher for the prosecution.”

Judge Whitaker read through paperwork. I listened quietly as the bailiff read the case number.

I was just getting comfortable in my seat when the charges were stated. My jaw dropped as I heard the words “Felony Murder with deliberation”. First degree murder. They were charging Cai with premeditation? I was absolutely sure that was only because of Cai’s history. I could see second degree murder, but not first. The boy had been raped.

“Mr. Schoemacher, what is the state recommending for bond?”

“Your honor, the defendant is charged with first degree

murder with deliberation. He left the home of the victim, retrieved a gun, came back to the victim’s house and shot him execution style in the back of the head. In addition, Mr.

Strakosha is a suspect in another premeditated murder and has a history of fleeing from previous crimes. He has a network of friends and family more than willing to hide his whereabouts from authorities. His mother has close relatives in Albania tied with organized crime, and the two men he has lived with for the last eight years have a history of criminal activities. We are asking for remand, Judge.”

“Remand you say? Shocking.” Judge Morris smiled. The court let out a nervous laugh. “Ms. Jackson?” During bond hearings each side is heard only once. The point of the hearing is to decide bail amounts or remand/release.

Remand in a felony murder case was sometimes granted, if the defendant posed no flight risk.

“Judge Whitaker, Nikolaj, who just recently turned sixteen, trusted Mr. Alvarado, a close family friend, enough to get into a car with him, as he had done many times in the past. Nikolaj was driven to Mr. Alvarado’s home at two in the afternoon and assaulted for seven hours. His girlfriend was finally able to help him escape when Mr. Alvarado fell asleep from excessive narcotics use. Mr. Alvarado learned of Nikolaj’s escape,” Angelica continued, placing a hand on Cai’s shoulder, “and then dragged Nikolaj back, threatening to kill both my client and his caregivers. Nikolaj feared for his life.” “Is this your motion for an affirmative defense, Ms. Jackson?” Judge Morris grabbed a file from his desk and perused it, then shot Angelica a glance over his bifocals.

“It is, your honor. Additionally, I would like to add that Nikolaj’s mother is here. Mrs. Strakosha has been in federal witness protection since becoming a witness against her husband and his partner. Her willingness to leave the program in order to be here speaks volumes as to family ties. She will also be residing at the home of a local decorated police officer, along with FBI and US Marshall protection.” She pointed in my direction. “Detective Austin Glass is ready to post bond for Nikolaj. I believe it speaks to Nikolaj’s intention to fight these charges that a decorated Denver police officer is willing to take the boy into his home and post his bond.” Oh yippee. A woman hiding from the mob. In my house.

With a murderer. Joy. And speaking of Cai…

An affirmative defense. So Cai did kill him. Not that I blamed the boy one bit. Hell, I’d go dance on Alvarado’s grave, if anyone bothered to claim his body, let alone bury him yet. I seemed to have made the right decision notwithstanding my previous objections.

“What about your client’s friends, Ms. Jackson. Is he willing to adhere to a no-contact order?”

“Judge Whitaker, the two young men in question have taken care of Nikolaj since he was eight years old. Furthermore, the prosecution’s characterization of two federal witnesses seems unduly harsh, seeing as how they have no criminal records after the age of twelve, and both Pyotr Dyachenko and Daniel Corozzo were set to testify against Nikolai Dyachencko before his demise.”

Oh, Christ. Peter was like an onion of lying layers.

“His demise?” Will sent a wide-eyed glare of incredulity at

Angelica. “What Ms. Jackson fails to mention, Judge Whitaker, is that her client is the person responsible for Nikolai Dyachenko’s
demise
—which was accomplished with a gunshot to the
head
.”

“Nikolaj is not charged in that case, your honor,” Angelica said with a serene smile. “Mr. Schoemacher is well aware of that fact.”

“This is a bond hearing, not a preliminary trial, counselors, save your arguments for that. I’ve heard enough. Fbi agents, US

Marshalls and a detective vouching for the boy and taking him into his home is enough to convince me that he isn’t a flight risk. Wait,” Judge Whitaker chuckled when the prosecutor took a breath as if ready to speak, “The defendant will surrender his passport if he owns one, and he will wear a monitoring bracelet that confines him to Detective Glass’s home. Bond is set at one million dollars. That should be enough to ensure everyone gets Nikolaj to court.”

A million dollars. Shit. The bang of Judge Whitaker’s gavel was like pressing a button on the toilet, with my money resting in the bowl.

I left the courtroom before finding out the preliminary hearing date, and called to arrange a money withdrawal from my private banker. Due to the hefty balance in my account, getting the money wired wasn’t going to be an issue—even after hours.

Revenge is Best Ser ved Using an Albanian Woman and the

“Neat trick having the courtroom cleared,” I said to Angelica.

“How’d you get Will to agree to that?” The fact that we weren’t

surrounded by reporters was no longer shocking.

“I threatened to petition a gag order, and he knew Judge Morris would issue it.”

“Bought time to avoid the press.”

“That was the idea.”

We were standing outside the courthouse awaiting the completion of Cai’s paperwork so we could take his mother to my home. Rosafa had insisted on staying as close to Cai as possible, but after an hour inside, Angelica and I ventured outdoors into the evening sun until all were ready.

“No coincidence that my father and the feds were questioning Peter and Darryl while that hearing was in progress?”

“No, it wasn’t a coincidence,” she agreed. “Desmond and I made the appointment specifically. Cai asked me to keep Peter out. This seemed the best method.”

“Clever,” I said. “You know the feds aren’t going to go after an eight-year-old case where an eight-year-old was the shooter.” “It’s doubtful,” she concurred.

“Then why pursue an affirmative defense? He can’t be innocent, Angel, at the same time as declaring he did it in self-defense.” “I can’t talk to you about the case. And don’t badger Cai about it, either, while I’m not there. His Miranda rights are in effect.”

I gave her a two fingered salute and shot off a frustrated puff of air. “What’s the mother like?”

She truly grinned then, and my immediate thought was, ‘
Something wicked
this way comes
.’ “Oh, Austin,” she laughed

delicately, “I quite possibly have revenge without even intending it.”

Whatever my response was, something akin to a parachute fail mid-fall, it made her laugh harder. “What does that mean?

Because from where I’m standing, hounding me into allowing a killer in my house was fair enough revenge.” “I did not hound,” she hedged.

“Angel?” My voice sounded desperate to my own ears, but she took no pity on me. Before she could answer, Rosafa exited the building with a contingent of black-suited men close behind.

Cai’s mother held no judgment in her appraisal of me, but she turned to Angelica immediately after the once over. “Thank you, Miss Jackson.”

“You’re quite welcome,” Angelica replied with an outstretched hand which the older woman took. Angelica laid a hand atop their clasped palms and inclined her head-tilt my way.

“This is detective Glass.”

“Austin,” I said, holding out my hand.

Rosafa’s grip was as firm as her nod. “You paid the bond, Detective Glass?”

“Austin,” I repeated, “And yes. It shouldn’t be long now before we hear my private banker weeping.” Either she was tired or she didn’t get my joke. That was okay, it was a lousy joke.

“They said they will take Nikë in patrol car. The officers would not allow me to ride with them.” “You can ride with me,” I said, picturing Cai with the abject misery of someone who’d been arrested, jailed, and was facing life in prison, carted off once again in a patrol car.

“Actually, Austin, the Marshall service needs to drive us. We

also need to pick up her bags from the hotel and talk about a few things.”

More than grateful to have less time around a woman who was examining me like I was bellybutton lint, I offered a brief smile. “Peter and Darryl still in there?” “No. Your father drove them home.”

“I’ll see you at the house.” To this day I maintain that I did not run to my car.

Since I had to give my information to the county clerk, and was recorded as Cai’s place of residence, the police department called to confirm when I would be home in order to set up the home monitoring system. Without Peter and Angelica to rain down sheets of guilt, I began to process the fact that this boy was going to be in my home, ruining my career. I spoke tersely to the officer making the appointment and hung up, continuing my drive.

“Jesus Christ, what have I just done?” I answered myself silently, You’re tethering Peter to you, using Cai as the chain.

Home Alone VI — Hiding from Avoiding Mother and Son Peter was waiting on my front stoop, resting his waist against the wrought iron railing next to Darryl, who sat on the top step.

When they saw me, Darryl stood and Peter tilted to see beyond me.

“They’re bringing him in an hour and half,” I said.

“Rosa?” Darryl asked.

“When Angelica and she are done discussing things.” I slipped past them and unlocked the front door, holding it open