Stone Cold (8 page)

She looked at the cops, who shook their heads in unison, their reassurance no match for her anxiety and no antidote for the shame she felt for what she’d done. She hated thinking she was better than that only to find that she wasn’t.

She cleaned and stitched Dwayne’s laceration without looking at him. Finished, she nodded at the cops and walked out of the room, her heart racing, and banged into Alex, who was coming her way, head down and texting.

“What the—,” Alex began, looking up and seeing Bonnie. “Well, that’s one way to get ahold of you. You can ignore my text.”

Trembling, Bonnie forced a smile.

“You okay?” Alex asked.

Bonnie dodged the question, embarrassed to tell Alex what she’d done, taking advantage of Alex’s disheveled appearance—hair matted, eyes puffy and red—to change the subject.

“You look hungover. What’s going on?”

Alex let out a long breath, her eyes filling, voice breaking, hands fluttering. “I stopped by the Hendersons’ to check on them. They were all dead. Slaughtered. Mary was strangled and probably raped, the kids beaten to death. Jameer had been shot between the eyes, probably after he was forced to watch his wife and kids die.”

Bonnie covered her heart with both hands. “Oh, my God!” She reached for Alex, pulling her close. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”

Alex clung to her, both of them letting loose, their tears mixing together. They stood like that for a moment until their hearts settled, wiping each other’s cheeks and then leaning inward, their foreheads touching.

“I’m sorry you had to find them. Are you okay?” Bonnie asked.

“It was the most horrible thing I’ve ever seen. I’ll never forget it. Never.”

“I can only imagine. I’m glad you came to see me.”

Alex stepped back, shaking her head. “Sorry. That’s not why I’m here. I got so caught up in what happened that I forgot you were working today. But I really needed that hug.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Looking for Dwayne Reed. Detective Rossi likes him for the murders and went after him. Dwayne ran, tried to jump a fence but didn’t make it, and tore his leg on the chain-link. Paramedics brought him here.”

Bonnie nodded, swallowing hard. “Did he do it? Did he kill those people?”

“Rossi thinks so. For now, they’re charging him with drug possession. That’s enough to hold him while they see if they can make the murder case against him. Can you find out which room he’s in?”

“This one,” Bonnie said, pointing over her shoulder. “I just sewed him up.”

Alex’s breath caught in her throat. “You?”

“I know,” Bonnie said, her confession tumbling out rapid-fire. “When I saw his name on the chart, I couldn’t believe it. All I could think of was how he’d frightened you and if he’d hurt the Hendersons he might hurt you. Obviously, I didn’t know what had happened, but I had this awful fantasy for a second where I killed him.”

“Get out! You fantasized that you killed Dwayne?”

Bonnie shrugged her shoulders, her face coloring. “Yeah, me. Florence Nightingale, of all people. In the fantasy I injected him with something to give him a heart attack. I was mad at myself for even thinking about doing that. But then he threatened to rape me and I was madder about that.”

Alex grabbed her arm. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. A couple of cops were guarding him and he was cuffed to the bed rail. He said when he got out of jail that he’d come back and give me something to remember him by. I was so scared and pissed that when I examined his laceration, I made sure it hurt.”

“That’s never going to happen,” Alex said. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Bonnie wiped her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “I can’t believe I did that to him, but I was so mad, so frightened, I just did it without even thinking. And then I taunted him about taking something for the pain, like I was questioning his manhood. That’s when he threatened me again. He said the police had nothing on him and that he’d be waiting for me when I came home. That’s so not me, and I feel awful, except for one thing.”

“What?”

She pressed Alex’s hand against her heart. “So help me God, if that prick ever tried to hurt you, I’d rip his heart out and feed it to him.”

“Let me get this straight,” Alex said. “You’d kill him if he threatened me but you feel bad about fantasizing about killing him after he threatened to rape you?”

“Hey, babe. That’s true love.”

“Well, they’ve got him on possession, so he isn’t going anywhere for a while.”

“But what if you get him out of jail? Then what? Look what he did to that poor family.”

Alex wanted to make a speech about innocent until proven guilty but doubted Bonnie would hear her and was less sure that she would believe her if she did. Even more, Alex questioned her faith and certainty that the speech made sense anymore.

“How is he?”

“He’ll live.”

Alex nodded. “Then at least you did your job.”

Chapter Fifteen

ALEX STEPPED INTO THE examination room. Dwayne propped himself up, smiling.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Officer Evans said. “This room is restricted. You’ll have to leave.”

“I agree. I’m Alex Stone from the public defender’s office and this man is my client. So until I’m done talking with him, this room is restricted. You’re the ones who have to leave.”

“We don’t know anything about that, ma’am,” Evans said.

“You know Detective Rossi, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am. He sent us down here.”

“Then call him and tell him what I said.” Evans hesitated. “Go on. Call him unless you want me to file a complaint against you for denying me access to my client.”

Evans dipped his chin, speaking into the two-way radio strapped to his shoulder. “This is Officer Evans, East Patrol, badge number 1229. I’m at Truman with a prisoner and I’ve got a situation. I need to talk to Detective Rossi.”

“Can you believe this shit?” Dwayne said.

Alex raised her hand. “Not another word, Dwayne.”

They waited in silence for five minutes until Evans’s cell phone rang.

“Evans,” he said, listening. “Understood.” He closed the phone. “Detective Rossi is on his way.”

“When’s he supposed to get here?” Alex asked.

The door opened behind her. “Now,” Rossi said. “That soon enough for you?”

Alex turned around. Rossi stood in the doorway, Bonnie right behind him.

“Dr. Long, are you ready to discharge my prisoner?”

“Yes. He’s good to go.”

“Officers, take my prisoner downtown. Ms. Stone, you can drop by for a visit after we’re done booking your client.”

Alex knew there was no point in arguing. “Don’t say a word,” she instructed Dwayne. “And don’t question my client outside my presence. Understood, Detective?”

“No need to take me to school, Counselor. I graduated a long time ago.”

It was another three hours before Alex was able to see Dwayne, long enough for him to have been booked and transferred to the Jackson County jail, where he traded in his boxers for an orange jumpsuit. They met in the visitor area, separated by Plexiglas, talking over phones hung on either side of the divide. It was Saturday night, well outside visiting hours, and they had the room to themselves.

“What up?” Dwayne said.

“How’s your leg?”

“It ain’t nuthin’.”

“You know why you’re in jail?”

He made a face like he’d thrown up in his mouth. “On account of that muthafucker Rossi. Man wants my ass.”

“Did he tell you about the crack they found in your jeans?”

“He tol’ me. It’s bullshit. Dope wasn’t even mine.”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me that the cops put it in your jeans.”

Dwayne rolled his eyes. “Not that they wouldn’t, but it belong to my mama.”

“It was Odyessy’s crack?” Alex asked.

“For a smart lawyer, you ax some dumb-ass questions. How many mamas you think I got?”

“Fine. Why was your mother’s crack in your pocket?”

“Better than bein’ in her pocket. All she gonna do is smoke it.”

Alex raised her eyebrows. “Are you telling me that you were trying to stop your mother from using?”

“Why you look so surprised? She my mama, ain’t she? I jus’ ’bout had her clean ’fore they arrested me for killin’ Wilfred. No way she could stay off that shit wit’out me bein’ there to stop her. I was gone more’n six months till you got me off. Plenty of time for her to get back to her old ways. We was jus’ gettin’ started over again when Rossi show up.”

Alex sat back in her chair, the phone resting on her shoulder. Dwayne wasn’t the first client to tell her he’d been caught with dope that belonged to someone else. It was a drug dealer’s version of the squirrel-came-in-my-window-and-ate-my-homework excuse. Yet there was something about the way he told the story that made her believe him or, more to her amazement, want to believe him. Her mother had always told her that there was good inside every human being; you just had to know where to look. She wondered if Dwayne was hiding his goodness beneath the bodies of the Henderson family.

“Why’d you run from Rossi?”

“After the shit he pulled on me, it was run or throw down, and I wasn’t lookin’ for no trouble.”

“You mean you were ready to let bygones be bygones?”

He smiled. “Yeah. That’s me. I’m all about forgive and forget.”

Alex shook her head, staring at the floor, not saying anything.

“What you lookin’ at?” he asked.

She raised her head. “I’m waiting to see how deep the bullshit gets.”

Dwayne laughed. “See, that’s why I like you. That’s why you such a good lawyer.”

“Because I can recognize bullshit?”

“Nah. ’Cause you know what to do wit’ it.”

She couldn’t argue with the compliment. There were times when bullshit was all she had to work with.

“Thanks. You know the real reason you’re in here has nothing to do with the crack the cops found in your jeans.”

Dwayne leaned forward, his face less than an inch from the Plexiglas. “What you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“I’m talking about five dead bodies: Kyrie Chapman and the Jameer Henderson family. The good deed you did for your mother gave Rossi enough to hold you while he tries to nail you for their murders.”

Dwayne edged away from the glass, his face hardening. “Don’t know nuthin’ ’bout that shit.”

“Except you do know that they’re dead.”

“I hear them cops talkin’ ’bout it. That’s all,” he said, his lips barely moving.

“Then do yourself a favor. Don’t talk about it. With anybody. Your initial appearance is set for nine o’clock Monday morning. I’ll see you in court.”

Chapter Sixteen

INITIAL APPEARANCES WERE HELD in the courthouse annex next door to the Jackson County jail. The buildings adjoined each other, making it possible for sheriff’s deputies to walk inmates from their cells to the courtroom.

Conducted by associate circuit judges, first appearances were routine proceedings intended to inform defendants of the charges, appoint counsel to represent them if necessary, and set dates for arraignment.

Judge Noah Upton was presiding over the Monday morning docket that included Dwayne Reed’s case. He had spent the last year fighting a complaint filed by the prosecutor’s office before the Missouri Judicial Commission alleging that he should be removed from the bench because he didn’t meet the requirement that judges reside in the circuit in which they serve.

The resulting investigation focused on how many nights he spent at a house located outside the county. The beautiful, young, and restless ex-wife of an older, fat, and balding major contributor to Prosecuting Attorney Tommy Bradshaw’s last election campaign owned the house. Judge Upton, fit and forty, with blond hair, a chiseled chin, and beach-boy good looks, began spending the night there with the ex-wife well before she officially became the ex, courthouse gossip dubbing them Ken and Barbie. He fought back and won, embarrassing both Bradshaw and his supporter.

When the complaint was dismissed, Judge Upton announced from the bench that he harbored no ill will toward the prosecuting attorney or his staff and pledged that he would continue to be impartial in his handling of criminal cases. No one in the prosecutor’s office believed him. Every defense lawyer in town hoped they were right.

Dwayne Reed was one of a dozen shackled defendants seated in the jury box, the only time they were likely to see a courtroom from that vantage point. They would remain there until all of their cases were heard, rising when it was their turn. Alex nodded at him as she took her place in the row of chairs behind the defense counsel table, waiting for Dwayne’s case to be called.

Kalena Greene stood at the prosecutor’s table, sorting and stacking the files for the cases on the morning docket. Alex hadn’t seen her since Dwayne’s murder trial. Tommy Bradshaw had kept her on the sidelines, letting her learn by watching before he let her learn by doing.

Handling an initial appearance docket was the next step up from escorting witnesses into the courtroom. The rote nature of the proceedings made it almost impossible to screw up. All she had to do was state her appearance and wait for the judge to do the rest.

The first two cases went as planned. Judge Upton called the case name and number. Kalena Greene stated her appearance on behalf of the state. The judge read the charges. One of the defendants had counsel, the judge appointing the public defender’s office to represent the other. Dates were set for arraignments. The defendants sat down and their lawyers headed for Starbucks.

Alex moved to the defense counsel table as Judge Upton called the next case.

“State versus Dwayne Reed, case number 7325-12. Counsel, please state your appearances.”

“Kalena Greene for the state, Your Honor.”

“And Thomas Bradshaw.”

Bradshaw made his way from the back of the courtroom to the prosecutor’s table. Remembering his pledge of impartiality, Judge Upton smiled, but there was no mirth in his eyes.

“Welcome, Mr. Bradshaw,” the judge said. “It’s not often the prosecuting attorney favors us with an appearance on these matters.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. Happy to be here.”

Bradshaw was lying and they both knew it.