Blood Defense (16 page)

TWENTY-EIGHT

I
went back to the office
in a somewhat calmer mood than when I’d left. Not because I necessarily bought Dale’s story, but because I had bigger, more immediate minefields to navigate.

I told Alex and Michelle to come into my office. The phones were so constant it sounded like one long, continuous ring. Michelle came in looking frazzled. “It’s been like that all morning. News shows, cable shows, print reporters, and of course, the usual psychos—but a lot more of them, and they’re a lot meaner. At least the story about Dale being your dad got us some sympathy calls. This time it’s a whole raft of no-life nutjobs saying Dale’s a monster and you’re a scumbag for representing him.”

I’d been wishing something would happen to take the story about Dale being my father off the radar. Now I realized I should’ve been more specific. “Any threats?”

“Not so far.”

I supposed that’d have to pass for my good news of the day. “We need to get all the information we can on this hooker—”

Alex read from his iPad. “She’s thirty-six, five foot seven, one hundred thirty pounds, blonde hair, blue eyes, and has a tattoo of Taz, the Tasmanian devil, on her left shoulder. Only a couple of busts for hooking, a couple of old busts for shoplifting, and one joyriding that got dismissed for insufficient evidence. The two prostitution arrests were in LA; the rest were all down in Orange County.”

“Damn, that all you could get?” I smiled. “Nice job, Alex. Any information on where she is now?”

“Working on it. Her last known address was in Orange County, but that was as of two years ago, and the apartment building is a senior living facility now.”

“But she got busted in Hollywood a year ago. Didn’t the cops get a new address?”

“No. She gave the same old one, and for some reason, she got released that night with no charges filed, so they never got around to checking it out.”

“Yeah, and I know why.” I told them what Dale had said.

Alex shook his head. “That’s some kind of bad luck.”

If Dale was telling the truth. “You might want to check the area where she last got busted, see if she lived nearby. And Dale said he brought in a tweaker that night. Go see Dale and see if he can help you track down that tweaker. You also might want to talk to the desk sergeant on duty that night. See if he backs up Dale’s story.”

“Zack sure screwed us hard,” Michelle said.

I nodded. “I’m kind of surprised. He doesn’t have a rep as a dirty player, but . . .”

Michelle looked disgusted. “A big case can be a big motivator.”

We all went back to work. I had to get ready for tomorrow, and I still didn’t have a solid zinger for the preliminary hearing. I didn’t know whether I’d put Chas Gorman on the witness stand at trial, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to trot him out now. The less time Zack had to dig up dirt on him, the better.

I put myself to bed by midnight, hoping to rest up for tomorrow. But I had the nightmare again. I woke up at three a.m., my heart pounding, struggling for breath. It took me an hour to get back to sleep. When I crawled out of bed at six, I was tired and achy. I pounded three cups of coffee in rapid succession—though angry as I was, I didn’t need the caffeine bump.

And given my state of mind, Xander did the world a favor by driving me to court. I was thinking about what I’d say to the press when my cell phone rang. Maybe Alex had already come up with something. I was so desperate for good news I didn’t stop to think that it was too early for him to have gotten anything. And so, when the obnoxiously familiar, ever-entitled voice of my mother came through the phone, it was a double crusher.

“Didn’t I tell you so, Samantha? A murderer
and
a rapist!”

“Mother, if you saw the news, then you know I’m on my way to court. I can’t—”

She railed on, heedless. “You have to get off this case! Surely now you can see who he is? I told you, there was a reason I broke it off with him. Maybe now you’ll believe me!”

I knew I shouldn’t engage with her, that I should just hang up. I needed to stay focused. But as usual, I let her get to me. “You told me no such thing. And believe what? You broke up with him because he didn’t have money. Not because you knew or cared what kind of person he was—”

“I
did
know. I always knew there was something . . . off about him.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me about him before?”

There was a long silence. “Because I didn’t want to upset you.”

I laughed out loud, though a part of me felt like crying. My feelings about anything had always been the least of her concerns. “So you thought it was better for me to find out on the news than to tell me yourself?”

“I didn’t necessarily know he would turn out to be
this
bad.”

“Celeste, you didn’t know diddly-squat. You were just hoping to make me get off the case so no one would find out he was my father. Because you were worried about how it’d make you look—”

“It’s not fair that I have to suffer for what that . . . disgusting criminal has done! The least you could do is get off this case and distance yourself!”

We were nearing the freeway exit. “I’m not getting off the case, Celeste.” I’d been planning my good-bye speech in my head, thinking of how I’d finally tell her how much she’d hurt me, belittled me, and made it so obvious I wasn’t wanted. But in that moment, I knew it’d just be an exercise in frustration. She’d never admit to anything, never change. She’d argue, deny, and turn it back on me, call me ungrateful . . . and a whole lot more. This was probably the worst time to do it, but I didn’t want to wait. It’d just give me more time to dream up useless speeches. It was time to bite the bullet. “I don’t want you to call me anymore. We have nothing to say to each other.” I ended the call and saw that my hands were shaking. I leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes. I couldn’t believe I’d actually done it.

I was scared and a little bit in shock. I felt disoriented, like an unseen tether had suddenly been cut and sent me into free fall. But I wasn’t sorry. I felt stronger, triumphant. I hadn’t realized how much I’d felt like a victim until that moment—when I decided not to be one anymore. By the time Xander pulled up in front of the courthouse, my hands had stopped shaking.

I’d scheduled this appearance at the last minute, so I wasn’t surprised to see that there was less of a throng outside this time. It didn’t matter. There were enough cameras to guarantee today’s proceedings would go far and wide. Brittany and Trevor spotted me as I got out of the car.

Trevor got to me first. “Samantha, what’s your response to this rape charge?” I saw Brittany’s cameraman move in behind him and train the lens on me.

I forced a calm expression and looked directly into the lens. “There is no truth to the charge whatsoever. The accuser is a prostitute who hoped to extort money from Dale.” The other reporters came running and were gathering around me, mikes held out in front of them. “I’m frankly disgusted by the cheap, underhanded tactics employed by the prosecution in leaking this bogus charge. It just shows how desperate they are. And they should be. Dale Pearson is innocent, and we will not let this smear campaign stop us from proving it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to court.”

They shouted questions at me as I sidestepped through the crowd, but I’d given them enough of a sound bite for now. I wanted to save the rest for court. As I pushed in through the door, I saw Edie near the elevators. She waved to me and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

Brittany ran up to me. “Samantha, this is terrible. You must be devastated. If you want more airtime, just let me know, okay?”

“Thanks, we’ll see what happens.”

This time I didn’t take the stairs. I wanted to save my energy for the fight. So I squeezed into the ever-packed, slow-moving elevator, and by the time it reached my floor, I was in full boil. I stomped into court, ready to rip flesh from bone. I didn’t even look at Zack. I didn’t trust myself not to throw something at him. I was glad to see that the courtroom had a fair number of reporters. They were going to get their money’s worth today.

Which was too bad for Judge William Tollinberg. People liked to say he was “gentlemanly.” But it was just a nice way of saying he was a pussy. When lawyers push the envelope—a near-daily occurrence—it’s up to the judge to rein them in. But Judge Tollinberg had no stomach for it. When the fur started to fly, he ducked. So I knew I’d get to swing freely, and I was planning to take full advantage of it.

The minute he called the case, I burst out of the gate like Secretariat.

“Your Honor, I told my client to waive his appearance because he doesn’t need to witness this shameful day for our system of justice. I’ve seen a lot of dirty tricks in my time, but what the prosecution has just pulled is probably the sleaziest. This charge was so bogus the victim herself wouldn’t back it up. The deliberate leaking of a totally unfounded rape charge is much more than outrageous. It’s a deliberate sabotage of Dale Pearson’s right to due process and a fair trial. I’m moving for a dismissal of all charges. Barring that, I want the prosecutor sanctioned for this despicable smear campaign!”

When Zack stood up, his face was red. He bounced the end of his pen on his legal pad, his lips pulled tight. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. “Your Honor . . .” He cleared his throat. “Your Honor, while I can well understand why counsel’s upset, that does not give her the right to go throwing around baseless accusations. I did not leak that rape report, and I don’t know who did. I think it’s ironic that counsel calls it a smear campaign, because that’s exactly what she’s just launched by accusing me without any facts to back it up—”

I jumped to my feet. “No facts? Who else has access to confidential personnel files? Who else has the motive to taint the jury pool?”

Lawyers are never supposed to directly address one another in court—we talk to the judge and, on occasion, the jury. But Zack lost it. He turned to face me and fired back. “Obviously someone besides me!”

“Then you should welcome an investigation!”

“I
do
welcome an investigation. And while we’re at it, we should find out why Jenny Knox didn’t show up for her IA interview.”

Finally, about ten clicks too late, the judge held up a hand. “Now counsel, you’re both officers of the court, and I know you’re aware of your ethical duties—”

But I wasn’t done yet. “Your Honor, Zack Chastain obviously doesn’t think he has any ethical duties. It’s not enough to sanction him. He should be removed from this case!”

Zack’s eyes narrowed with fury, and his face flushed an even brighter red. “If anyone should be removed, it’s Samantha Brinkman. She’s obviously too close to this case. She can’t be professional. After all, it’s her
father
—”

“That’s a disgusting, cheap shot—”

The bang of the gavel cut me off. It was probably the first time in the judge’s career he’d ever used it. I thought I saw his hand shaking. The bailiff’s mouth hung open.

Judge Tollinberg’s voice was strained, but I could see real anger in his pale-blue eyes. “No one’s getting taken off this case. But I do not approve of these personal attacks. I will expect written apologies to the court from both of you, and I want them in my hands by five o’clock this evening.” He looked from me to Zack. “However, this is a serious breach, Mr. Chastain. I’m ordering the sheriff’s department to look into the leak. In the meantime, Ms. Brinkman, my clerk tells me you have discovery matters to take up?”

I appreciated him ordering the investigation, but it was the least he could do. And besides, the damage was done. The rape charge was all over the news. There was no way to un-ring that bell—other than to prove it was a lie.

“Thank you, Your Honor. Yes, I do. I want the victims’ cell-phone records, the downloads from their laptops, and their navigational systems’ records—”

Zack cut in, his voice cold. “We’re working on it, Your Honor. It may take a little while.”

I glared at Zack. “I remind the prosecution that we’re not waiving time. We want the preliminary hearing and trial set within the statutory limit.”

The judge nodded. “Mr. Chastain, how long will it take you to get those records to Ms. Brinkman?”

“I probably can’t get all those records before the preliminary hearing.” Zack stared down at his legal pad for a moment. “But Ms. Brinkman won’t have to worry about discovery for the moment. I’m going to scrap the preliminary hearing altogether and take this case to the grand jury instead.” He glared at me. “Since Ms. Brinkman’s in such a hurry, that should move things along a little faster.”

I returned his glare. “It figures Mr. Chastain would prefer to put on his evidence in secret, where he doesn’t have to worry about a judge throwing out this feeble excuse for a case—”

Zack shot me a dagger. “Feeble excuse? This is a slam dunk,
no-brainer—”

The judge banged his gavel again. He had the expression of someone who’s slipping out of the saddle on a horse that’s galloping at full speed. “Ms. Brinkman, is there anything else?”

“Other than putting a stop to the smear campaign? No.”

“Then we’ll be in recess.”

TWENTY-NINE

R
eporters had gathered downstairs,
but
I’d had my say in court—and then some. When I got outside, I gave a shortened version of my earlier statement, adding only that I was “confident the jury would know better than to be swayed by these underhanded tactics.”

Edie and Brittany waved to me, but I wanted to get out of there. I waved back and pointed to Xander, who was idling at the curb. As I made my way toward the car, Trevor came up and spoke to me in a low voice. “Why didn’t you come to me first with the story about your father?”

“Sorry, Trevor. I just thought it was more of a face-time story. I promise you’ll get the next one.”

He gave me a measuring look. “What’ll you give me if I find out who leaked?”

If I could prove Zack was the leak, it’d really hurt his credibility. That wouldn’t necessarily be a game changer. But with a case this tough, every little bit helped. The only problem was, I didn’t really have anything to trade yet. “Get me the information and we’ll talk.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

I got into the car. Xander slowly pulled away. “I watched you on my phone. You’re having quite the day.” He pulled into the left-turn lane.

“Yeah.” I sighed, thinking he didn’t know the half of it. “Thanks for driving me, Xander. At least I get to suffer in style. Is this helping your business any?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure it will.”

Alex and Michelle were watching the news on the television in my office when I got back. Alex gave me a thumbs-up. “You really reamed that prosecutor—”

“And that was nice work with the press,” Michelle said.

I set down my briefcase. “How’d Zack do with the reporters?”

Michelle sighed. “Unfortunately, pretty well. Said he had no idea who would’ve leaked that report, and he hopes the guilty party is caught immediately, blah, blah, blah. But he sold it.”

I glanced at the screen and saw a reporter standing on the courthouse steps. They’d be chewing on this story all night. “You sure you’re not just a sucker for a pretty face?”

“Oh, I most definitely am. But so is your jury pool.”

Unfortunately, true. I turned to Alex. “What’d you think?”

Alex gave me an apologetic look. “I agree. Sorry. What can you do about him going to the grand jury? Can you object?”

“No, but I don’t want to.”

Michelle’s eyebrows lifted. “You don’t? But the grand jury always indicts. A judge might—”

“Dismiss?” I asked. Michelle nodded. “No friggin’ way. It’s a solid case, and most of the testimony is going to come from experts talking about DNA and fingerprints. Janet’s the only civilian they’ll call, and a nuclear bomb couldn’t shake her testimony. So all a prelim does is get the bad stuff out there where the jury pool can chew on it for the next couple of months. A grand jury keeps it quiet.”

Michelle deadpanned, “Unless there’s a leak.” She saw my expression. “Too soon?”

Alex stood up and put on his jacket. “I’m on my way to go talk to Dale.”

“Just in case you can’t get a decent address for that tweaker, have Dale tell you where he busted him. He might still be hanging around there—”

“You want me to talk to the tweaker if I find him?” I nodded. “How am I supposed to get him to talk to me?”

“Michelle, give him a twenty.” Dale’s retainer check had cleared, so I’d replenished our slush fund. She fished out the bill and gave it to him. “And give him my card. You’ve got some, right?” Alex shook his head. Michelle gave him a stack. “Always keep these on you. It’s a nice carrot for guys like that.” I wouldn’t necessarily represent him if he called, but he didn’t have to know that.

Alex tucked the cards into his jacket pocket. “Any chance I can get some of my own cards? It’d give me a little more credibility.”

Michelle nodded. “Already ordered. Should be ready for pickup in a couple of days.”

The cards couldn’t say he was licensed, but that wouldn’t be much of a problem. Most people don’t really look.

Alex smiled. “Thanks, Michy.” He started for the door, then turned back. “If I find Jenny, do you want me to talk to her?”

“No. Hold off on that one. We need to do it together.” That would be a tricky interview. If Dale was telling the truth about her, she was a dangerous person to tangle with. I didn’t need the state bar investigating me for some bullshit charge that I’d threatened or pressured her. “But find out where she lives, see if you can find people who know her, and get them talking.”

“Got it.”

I looked at his khaki pants and navy-blue blazer. “And for God’s sake, change into something grungier. Put some street on your back.”

Alex made a face. “Fine.”

“We don’t have a lot of time to waste on this rape charge. So get done what you can today and report back.”

After he’d left, I told Michelle about my phone call with Celeste—and that it’d been my last. I hadn’t been sure if I’d be able to talk about it. I’d thought I’d be too upset. But I wasn’t. I’m not saying I was in the mood to light fireworks or lead a conga line. I was just . . . at peace.

When I finished, Michelle gave me a long hug, then stood back and gave me a searching look. “I’ve been hoping to hear you say this for years. She’s poison. I can’t remember you ever coming off a phone call or a visit with her that didn’t leave you feeling like shit.”

No question about that. “But shouldn’t I be at least a little torn up about this? I feel kinda okay with it.”

“Like you stopped beating your head against the wall?”

I smiled. “A little bit, yeah. But still . . .”

“Look, you might feel lousy at some point, but if you do, it’ll only be because you finally admitted that you never had anything close to a real mother.” Michelle put her hands on her hips. “Or it’ll be a guilt trip, which I will not allow.”

I owed Michelle so much. She was a friend like no other, and I loved her like a sister. But that thought brought me to the likely repercussions of cutting off Celeste. “Her friends are going to think I’m the monster. So will Jack.” I didn’t like most of her friends, so that was no loss. But my stepfather had saved me from myself when I was going down the drain in high school. I’d only wished he’d met Celeste sooner. “For some reason, no one else ever seems to see her ugly side.”

Michelle frowned. “I’m not sure that’s true, but think about what you just said. If her friends don’t get the same treatment, what does that tell you? She
chooses
to treat you the way she does. And I disagree about Jack. He’s a good guy and a smart guy. He’ll get that you must’ve had a damn good reason for doing it. And you have no idea what he’s seen. He might know more than you think. After all, she lives with him. It’s harder to keep up a good act with the person who shares your bathtub.”

I covered my ears. “Ick. Thanks for that.”

We laughed, and after a few minutes, we got back to work.

I still had the rest of my caseload to worry about, so I dug out my files and got to work. I was halfway through a sentencing memo when Michelle buzzed me.

“Remember our buddy Ricardo Orozco?”

The gangbanging asshole murderer. “Wish I could say no.”

“His father wants to make an appointment.”

I thought about it for a moment. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“No. Want me to tell him you’re not taking any new cases?”

I shook my head. “Go ahead and make the appointment.”

Michelle said she would, and I went back to my sentencing memo.

It was seven thirty by the time Alex got back. It’d been his first day operating on his own, and I could see he’d loved it. When he sat down in my office, his expression was serious, but his eyes were shining. And he’d taken my fashion advice to heart: his jeans were sagging, his T-shirt looked like it’d been used at a car wash, and his Converse sneakers had no laces. “Nice threads, man. Way to blend.”

Alex glanced down at his clothes like they were made of roadkill. “They’re not mine. I borrowed them from my sister’s boyfriend’s kid brother.”

“Whatever. It worked, didn’t it?” Alex nodded reluctantly. “So what’ve you got?”