Speak of the Devil (4 page)

For now, Anna just had to figure out how to dress for the day. She went to Jack’s closet, where a few of her clothes still hung, a remnant of their prebreakup era. She pulled some pieces out, trying to create an outfit from the wardrobe scraps. She’d have to stop by her apartment and get more clothes and her cat tonight.

She dressed in a black pantsuit and sensible pumps—the uniform of female prosecutors—and a lacy ivory camisole that felt fittingly bridal. As Jack buttoned up his shirt, she opened the window shade and gazed out. It was wonderful to be back here, looking at the mature trees and historic homes. She knew this place better than she knew her own apartment in the city. The neighbors, the mail carrier, even the gardeners setting up to mow Jack’s yard were familiar.

When she turned around, Jack was knotting a red tie. She smiled at how handsome her future husband looked in a suit.

“Ready?” he asked her.

She might
never
feel ready to face Olivia. But she nodded.

He held her hand, and they walked down the wooden steps of his old Victorian. Anna noticed, as she always did, the picture hanging in the hall by Olivia’s room. It was a studio portrait of Jack and his late wife, holding an infant Olivia between them. Nina Flores had been a beautiful police officer, killed in the line of duty four years ago. Jack rarely spoke about it. But Nina’s presence was everywhere in the house. Nina was the one who’d painted Jack’s bedroom walls red, who’d hung the lacy curtains in Olivia’s room, who’d planted the peach tree in the front yard. Anna was very aware that she was stepping into a household that another woman had created. She supposed she would make her own mark eventually. She would try to do it while respecting the woman who’d come before.

They followed the voices to the sunny kitchen at the back of the house. Olivia was sitting at the counter, eating scrambled eggs and toast. She wore a pink T-shirt, and her wavy black hair was in two low ponytails. The little girl had creamy caramel skin and her father’s luminous green eyes. They were leveled on her nanny with the intensity of an expert negotiator sizing up her opponent. Luisa stood at the counter, packing lunch into a
Princess and the Frog
lunch box.

“Please, Luisa, can I just have a jelly sandwich? There’s enough protein in the cheese stick and yogurt.”

“No,
cosita
, we need to get some meat on your bones. Jelly is not enough. How about a turkey sandwich?”

“How about half a turkey and half a jelly?”

Luisa put her hands on her wide hips and frowned at the little girl. “Do you promise to eat both?”

“Of course!” The little girl flashed a winning smile.

“Okay, okay,” Luisa grumbled cheerfully. Olivia grinned in triumph. As Luisa pulled the jam from the fridge, she caught sight of them in the doorway.

“Well hello, Miss Anna!” said the nanny. “How nice to see you back here!”

Olivia’s eyes lasered to the doorway. They widened when she saw Anna. Anna braced herself for rejection. But the little girl surprised her.

“Anna!” she screeched as she clambered down from the stool. Olivia ran full throttle into Anna’s arms. “I missed you!”

Olivia hugged her so tightly, Anna could barely breathe. “I missed you, too.” Anna put her arms around the little girl, tentatively at first, then with more confidence. It was the first real hug Olivia had ever allowed her. It felt wonderful. She kissed the girl’s soft cheek, and noticed that she was wearing the
Princess and the Frog
barrettes Anna had given her a while back.

Olivia pulled back and held Anna’s shoulders sternly while she spoke. “Don’t leave us again.”

“I won’t.”

“In fact,” Jack scooped up Olivia, “I took your suggestion. I asked Anna to marry us.”

“What’d you say?” Olivia searched Anna’s face.

“I said yes.”

“Yay!” Olivia hopped down from Jack’s arms and jumped up and down in circles, clapping. “Yay! Yay! Can I be a flower girl? Can I help pick the band? Can we invite my friends?”

“Yes to everything.” Anna was filled with unexpected joy. She had loved Olivia for a long time. The fact that Olivia loved her back was more than she had hoped for.

A movement in the kitchen made Anna look up. Luisa was crossing herself. Her skin had gone pale and slack.
“Dios mío,”
she whispered.

“What’s wrong?” Anna asked. She and Luisa had always had a friendly, easy relationship.

“N-nothing.” Luisa shook her head. “Congratulations. I am very happy for you.”

The nanny turned to the counter and continued making sandwiches. But her hands were shaking as she spread jam on bread. She whispered something in Spanish under her breath. It sounded like a prayer. Anna glanced at Jack, who shook his head, looking as perplexed as she felt.

8

Oh my God!” Grace squealed. She held Anna’s hand and examined the ring. “It’s gorgeous! Gotta be at least one-point-two carats—and on platinum. Girl, he spent a pretty penny on you.”

Anna smiled at her best friend. Grace was an elegant black woman with a sharp mind and an impressive collection of designer shoes stashed in her filing cabinets. Two years earlier, she and Anna had started together in the Domestic Violence Misdemeanor unit. The experience had been difficult but rewarding, akin to boot camp—it broke them down and built them back up, and bonded them in a way that few other jobs could. Over the years they’d worked their way up through the office’s rotation together, taking on more responsibility and more serious cases. Now they were both senior sex-crimes prosecutors. Grace was the only person in the office who’d known that Anna and Jack were dating. Grace had gone with Anna to the Tiny Jewel Box to pick out the watch for Jack.

“I can’t believe you tipped him off,” Anna said.

“Look, I love you both, you know that.” Grace lowered her voice. “But he’s gonna get enough grief from the sisters for marrying a white woman. It’ll be fine—don’t frown—but he didn’t need the additional twist of a reverse-gender proposal. Trust me on this.”

Anna nodded, forgiving her friend. She tried to brush away her anxiety at the thought of people judging their relationship and finding her wanting.

“Think of all the money you could’ve saved on that watch,” Grace said, cheerfully changing the subject.

“No, he needed to hear it from me, first,” Anna said. “And I like the idea of something from me being with him all day.”

“Yeah. Why is it the woman is marked as ‘taken’ as soon as a couple gets engaged, while the man isn’t until
after
the wedding?”

“The same reason women traditionally take their husband’s name, instead of vice versa.”

“What will you do? Anna Bailey has a nice ring to it.”

“I’ll figure it out later. The more important question now is: Will you be a bridesmaid?”

“Of course!” Grace trilled, and they hugged some more.

The noise brought more women. Soon Anna’s office was crowded with prosecutors, paralegals, and advocates, all wanting a turn looking at her ring. They peppered Anna with questions—who, where, when, and how. Jack was right; she was going to tell this story, and all of its details, many times.

“My goodness, what’s going on here?”

The women quieted. The chief of the Sex Crimes unit stood in Anna’s doorway. Carla Martinez, a lovely Hispanic woman with a Puerto Rican accent, looked impeccable as always in a ruffled white blouse, long-beaded necklace, and black pencil skirt. Her dark hair hung in a chic bob. Carla was senior enough to transcend the black-pantsuit uniform of junior prosecutors.

“Anna got engaged,” Grace announced.

“Congratulations!” Carla smiled warmly at her. “Who’s the lucky man?”

“Jack Bailey,” Anna said.

“Oh.” Carla’s smile disappeared. Carla and Jack had a notorious rivalry, always competing to get the best cases and prosecutors for their two sections. The ongoing turf war between Homicide and Sex Offense was infamous in the office. Carla recovered with a polite nod. “My best wishes to both of you.”

Anna thanked her boss, wondering what history lay behind that cool facade.

“Jack’s gorgeous!” said a secretary.

“No wonder you got that Capitol case last year,” said another prosecutor, only half in jest.

Anna sighed. The snarkiness was part of the reason she’d kept their relationship secret for so long. In many ways, the office was like high school, with a hierarchy based on seniority and laced with gossip. The rotation system—where lawyers moved through ever-more important sections of the office—stoked competition, making everyone talk about who was getting promoted faster. Anna wanted people to appreciate her lawyering on the merits, not see her as a little hussy sleeping her way to the top. Even though she wasn’t in the Homicide unit, and Jack didn’t supervise her, she knew that people would talk—and that not all the talk would be generous.

Carla held a manila file in her hands. “One of your warrants came in last night, Anna. If you have time, I’d like you to paper it.”

“Of course,” Anna said. Senior prosecutors typically papered their own cases.

The rest of the women took the cue, murmuring goodbyes and shuffling out of Anna’s office. Anna took the file from her boss and glanced at the information written on the front of the jacket:

Anna grimaced as she skimmed the PD-163, which described in broad strokes what had happened last night. Flipping to the next form, she recognized the warrant she’d signed for Hector Ramos. It obviously hadn’t gone the way Hector had planned.

“Do we know if the sexual assault was completed?” Anna asked. According to the paperwork, the prostitute had been so distraught, she hadn’t made much sense when talking to police on the scene.

“It’s not one hundred percent clear, but you can drop the ‘attempt’ and go with straight sex assault if you get a more solid statement from her.”

“Sex kit?”

“Yes, last night.”

“Where is she now?”

“Still at Howard University Hospital. She had some pretty severe injuries. Not clear how she got them.”

“I’ll go talk to her after the initial appearance.”

“Good. Focus on finding the two who got away. There’s a Use of Force investigation, so don’t be surprised if the officers won’t talk to you for a while. Tavon McGee’s your lead. He’ll fill you in.”

A few minutes after Carla left, McGee ambled into Anna’s office. He carried a McDonald’s bag in one hand and tipped his black fedora with the other.

“Good morning, madam prosecutor!”

“McGee,” Anna smiled at the big detective. She adored him. Her first big domestic violence trial was with him, and he’d looked out for her ever since. He was also a good friend of Jack’s. “You probably didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Haven’t slept yet.” He flashed his gap-toothed smile at her, then lowered his big frame into a chair. His eyes glanced down at her hand. “Did you get engaged?”

“Yes.” She looked down at her ring, which sparkled under the fluorescents. A thrill of happiness warmed her. “To Jack.”

“About damn time. Congratulations!”

“Thanks.” Anna laughed. She hadn’t told McGee they were dating—but the detective didn’t miss much. “You’ll be invited to the wedding. So, tell me what happened with the gentleman called ‘Psycho’ last night.”

“It’s a hot mess.” McGee handed her a box of chicken tenders and unwrapped a Big Mac for himself. Between bites of his burger, McGee described the brothel raid and the carnage inside. “In the end, there were two bodies. Decapitated doorman. And Hector Ramos shot one of the bad guys.”

“Hence Psycho’s felony murder charge,” Anna said. Psycho was legally responsible for anyone who was killed while he was committing a felony, even if that person was his accomplice. “What evidence do we have on the guys who got away?”

“Lots of usable prints in the brothel, we’ll run ’em. But hundreds of guys go in there every week.”

“Did they get the bedsheets?”

“Yeah. Also the condom Psycho was wearing, one used condom on the floor—purple—and twenty-five used condoms in the garbage can.” He showed her a picture. “Most are gonna be from paying clients.”

Anna felt sorry for the poor DNA analyst who’d have to parse through the seminal swirl at the bottom of the plastic bucket.

“We’ll try to flip Psycho,” she said. “Get him to distinguish the rapists from the johns.”

Anna looked at Psycho’s arrest photos. The man had several tattoos; some were gang symbols.

“MS-13,” she murmured. The gang was a growing problem in D.C. They were notoriously violent, ruthless, and getting larger every month. “Did you put these tattoos and their meaning in the
Gerstein
?”

“You want me to?”

“Yep.”

McGee handed Anna his thumb drive. She stuck it into her computer and pulled up the
Gerstein
, the document McGee would sign under oath, and which would be the basis of detaining Psycho. When Anna argued in court, she would be limited to the facts written in the
Gerstein
’s four corners, so now was the time to include anything she needed. Anna worked with McGee to flesh out the document. As she printed out the final version, she got a phone call from the courthouse. Psycho’s case would be called soon.

“Okay.” She stood. “Let’s go.”

“Wait. I gotta show you something.” McGee frowned and pulled a plastic evidence bag from his suit pocket. “I don’t know that this has anything to do with anything. But you should know—Hector Ramos found it in Psycho’s pocket.”