Body of Evidence (Evidence Series) (30 page)

H
E ARRIVED AT
the courthouse just minutes before the trial was supposed to adjourn for the weekend break. A feeling of peace settled over him as he entered his domain. The courtroom was packed, and hundreds of heads turned when he entered.

Judge Hawthorne, a tiny woman—as small as Mara—always managed to look imposing from the raised bench. She glanced at him over the top of her rimless glasses and smiled, showing the stained front tooth that had appeared in more than one op-ed caricature.

A buzz erupted in the room as Curt made his way down the center aisle, and Hawthorne’s gavel met sound block with impassive effort. She hated resorting to the gavel to restore order and only did it with vigor when her ire was raised. “Nice of you to join us, Mr. Dominick.”

He nodded and crossed to the prosecution table, dropping into the empty seat next to Aurora. “Sorry for the delay, Your Honor.”

The darkened tooth made another appearance. “Glad you’re okay.”

Ben Sherrod, Stevens’s attorney, called attention back to him with a dramatic sigh. “Your Honor, I believe you were about to rule on the objection—”

“I haven’t forgotten, Counselor. Overruled.” She glanced at her watch. “At this time, we will break for weekend recess.” Judge Hawthorne’s gaze landed on Aurora, not Curt. “Ms. Ames, you may finish questioning your witness when court resumes on Monday morning at nine a.m.” To the witness, she said, “You are excused until then.” The gavel fell, and the courtroom erupted into low-voiced conversations.

The twelve jurors and two alternates filed out, casting curious glances in his direction. Aurora had briefed him nightly, and he identified several from her descriptions. He had a lot of catching up to do, but it could be worse.

For the first time since he’d entered the room, Curt’s gaze landed on Mara’s uncle, who sat at the defendant’s table. The man put effort into avoiding eye contact.

Those dangerous, unacceptable emotions surfaced. She deserved so much more than she’d received from everyone. Including Curt.

Andrew Stevens stood and exited the courtroom at his attorney’s side. No pause, no hesitation, no questioning look about the well-being of his niece. Mara’s mother was a different story. Seated in the first row behind the defendant’s table, she met Curt’s gaze, her own full of worry.

He responded with a slight nod, the barest communication, but he knew the woman caught his meaning because she flashed a wide, relieved smile, so much like Mara’s it hurt.

Aurora jabbed him in the shoulder, drawing his attention away from Mara’s mother, and pegged him with a penetrating look. “About time you got your ass here, Dominick.”

“We need to talk. At the office or over dinner, your choice.”

“Both. Takeout. We’ll eat at the office. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Sam Harder, the AUSA who’d filled in during Curt’s absence, said sotto voce to Curt, “Be careful. You’re up on the dartboard in her office.”

“Again?” He glanced at Aurora, who refused to look at him as she gathered her binders. Curt stacked several legal pads. “What’s her aim been like?”

“Dead center.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

An hour later, carrying a bag overloaded with Chinese food in one arm, Curt unlocked the door to the lobby of the US Attorney’s Office located in the Judiciary Center Building on Judiciary Square, just a few blocks from the Federal Courthouse. His own picture graced the wall above the receptionist’s desk, keeping company with the president, the attorney general, and, because Curt was also the local district attorney, the mayor of DC.

Aurora and Sam followed him inside, each carrying a box of files. “We’re set up in the main conference room,” Aurora said with a nod toward the hall.

In the room, she dropped the box on the table, kicked off her shoes, and brushed them aside with an angry swish of her feet before plopping into the most coveted and comfortable conference room chair. “Spill, Dominick. Where is Garrett?” Her words were sharp little daggers, conveying more anger than she’d expressed during their numerous phone conversations.

“I have no idea.” Which was true. She hadn’t answered the phone when he’d called earlier.

Sam, who had similarly flopped into a chair, sat up straight. “What?”

“I assume you know Evan Beck ambushed us last night.”

“I received your message on my office phone
this morning
,” Aurora said. “You should have woken me up at home.” Her glare was at full potency. “I’m acting as lead prosecutor on
your
case, and you left me out of the loop.”

Ah, at last, the source of her anger. He hadn’t called her at home because he would have had to reveal that Mara had fled, and he hadn’t been prepared to discuss the trial implications. But she’d probably guessed that—hence, the resentment. “Sorry, AA, but I was busy dealing with cops, medics, and the fact that a psycho with a gun got the jump on me. Next time I’ll try to consider
your
feelings.”

“You know how much I hate sarcasm.”

“Sam, did the sense of humor we ordered for Aurora arrive while I was gone?”

“It wasn’t powerful enough to overcome her innate inability to detect nuance. We sent it back.”

Aurora’s glare held the hint of a smile. It was probably all he’d get from her in this mood, but it was enough to loosen the chunk of ice on her back. “While I was dealing with the cops, Mara went to the hospital. She had a severe cut on her leg. She talked her way out of the ambulance en route to the hospital. I don’t know where she is.”

“Did she run because she refuses to testify? We can get a federal marshal—”

“No marshals. She ran from Raptor. She was resigned to testifying, but the FBI wouldn’t promise to protect her.”

“How did she manage it?” Aurora asked.

Curt stiffened. Aurora was going to flip. “She had nine thousand in cash on her.”

Aurora’s fist hit the table. “Of all the stupid… You gave her the money?”

“The money was in my coat, which I had given to her because she was cold.” True, but he’d have given her the money even if she hadn’t been wearing the coat.

Aurora glared at him. “We need to find her. I want her on the stand on Wednesday.”

“No. She’s not testifying.”

He braced for another thump on the table, and Aurora didn’t disappoint. “Shit, Curt. I knew that’s what you were leading up to. Did you fuck her?”

He held his anger in check. Lashing back would only turn a difficult situation into a disaster. “No, Aurora, I didn’t sleep with her. Testifying would be a death sentence for her.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit melodramatic?”

“No.”
Dammit
, he hadn’t believed Aurora could be influenced by whispered allegations. He glared across the conference table. “You have no idea what I’ve been through in the last five days.” He stared her down until she flinched.

Finally, with a tight jaw, she said, “What are we going to do?”

“We’ll prove our case without laying the foundation of previous influence peddling. We couldn’t charge him with that anyway.” He straightened his tie. “A week ago, we thought we wouldn’t have Mara to testify because she was a prisoner in North Korea. We go back to the game plan we’d set up then.” He turned to Sam. “Is the press still clamoring to know if she’ll testify?”

“More than ever with the trail of stiffs you encountered.”

“Two is not a ‘trail.’” But, assuming Jeannie’s fate, in all, four people had died.

“According to my tenth-grade geometry teacher, it
is
a line.”

Curt rolled his eyes. “Monday, I want you to release a statement saying the prosecution has no intention of calling Mara Garrett to testify.”

“Do I give a reason?”

“No.”

“Will the Arizona US Attorney’s Office go after her for the nine grand?” Sam asked.

“How did you know that’s where we got the money?”

“We received an invoice.”

Unease trickled down his spine, but he was safe in DC and had made arrangements at the truck stop to return the SUV to Arizona. “Don’t pay it. I’ve already transferred the money.”

Aurora’s eyes narrowed. “With US Attorney’s Office funds?”

“No. My own. Raptor is after Mara. She needs the money to stay in hiding. I’d give her more if I could.”

“Doesn’t the State Department want to talk to her?”

“I’ve told them everything. Mara is a free woman—if hiding counts as being free.”

“She can’t hide forever,” Sam said.

“We need to nail Stevens so he’ll roll on Raptor. Only then will Mara be safe.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-ONE

M
ARA HEADED NORTH
, riding all night and into the following day, stopping, finally, to rest for a few hours when exhaustion and cold made the drive dangerous. She found a hospital in a busy city and tucked herself in a corner waiting room where she slept for a few hours before hopping back on the bike and heading toward the town where she grew up and the one person she believed could help her. It was late afternoon on Friday when she rolled into a parking lot in front of a stately Michigan State University building. She climbed off the motorcycle and stretched. She shivered, not from the frigid air but because it was time once again to remove the helmet.

The stone façade of the research building looked imposing, but she knew this campus and this building. The man she hoped to see today had been a childhood friend. She stiffened her spine and slid the helmet off, then pulled on a knit winter cap she’d purchased at a truck stop and tugged the earflaps forward.

After locking the helmet in the saddlebag, she made her way to the front door, tucking her head down as she passed students on the stairs.

She wound her way through the building, which echoed hollowly late on Friday afternoon. At last she found Michael’s office, and disappointment shot through her when she read the sign next to the door. He didn’t have office hours until Monday. She’d known it was a long shot, but desperation had led her to Michael first.

Now she’d have to hide out in the area for three days before she could see him. Three days would pass in which Raptor could finish replicating the smallpox bomb. Three days would pass before she could begin the hunt for Jeannie. In the grand scheme of things, three days wasn’t much, but given the enormity of what had passed in the previous five days, it felt like a lifetime.

C
URT WORKED LATE
on Friday night. Aurora quickly thawed and focused her sharp legal mind on the case, and Sam did his best to ease tension while demonstrating his own skill with the intricacies of federal case law. Curt had been hesitant to bring the man on at the last minute, but Aurora had been correct in selecting the hungry assistant US attorney. They filled Curt in on the missed
voir dire
, as well as the first day of testimony. By the time he drove home through the empty city streets, he felt confident the trial was on the right track and they’d have a conviction against Stevens.

Now all he had to do was protect Mara and stop Raptor from committing a terrorist act on American soil.

No problem. If he were fucking Superman.

Which, despite Mara’s foolish faith in him, he definitely was not.

As soon as he reached his Georgetown condo, he grabbed his phone. Lee had promised him his landline was secure and traps had been set that would alert him if the system were breached. With that assurance, he dialed Mara. As he waited for the call to connect, he eyed his stark bachelor furnishings. He’d never spent enough time here to bother making it feel like home, but now he wondered what Mara would say when—
if
—she saw the place.

Her home—which she was away from at least half of each year—had been full of knickknacks and treasures, items she’d collected in her travels. Color and warmth had infused the place with a homey feeling, even during a murder investigation.

She’d made her home a special place to return to. He, on the other hand, put in ridiculously long hours at the office, and made his home into a cold, unfeeling place that drove people—especially himself—away.

Oh Christ. He was obsessing over Mara Garrett and her as-yet-nonexistent thoughts on his home décor. He’d officially lost it.