Dread Champion (9 page)

The attorney regarded him in silence. This meeting would come to order when he had control.

“Come on, Terrance!”

“Are you through yet?”

“Yes, I'm through,” Darren spat.He pressed back in his seat with crossed arms, waiting in fury.

“All right. I'll tell you what I've already told you.And you're not going to like it any more than you did the first time. Tomorrow's going to be worse. Tracey is most likely to be a very sympathetic witness—”

“That little twit,” Darren snarled.

Terrance pressed his teeth together and waited.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, go on.” Darren swiped a hand through the air.

“She lost her mother, Darren.” The attorney spoke as if addressing a slow child. “I can't very well ‘tear her apart' visibly, as you would have me do. It'll only make the jury dislike us. However, I will poke holes in her testimony. And I'll milk the money issue all I can upon cross-examination. I'm betting Breckshire brings it up. He'll figure it's better for him to do that than for me to do it, so the jury won't think he was trying to hide it.”

“The money's all she wants anyway.” Darren's eyes remained slits.

Terrance didn't bother to argue. He knew the facts behind the large life insurance policy Shawna had managed to carry, with her daughter as full beneficiary. Darren had insisted that Shawna sign a prenuptial agreement, and she'd readily agreed, with one
quid pro quo.
Apparently the lack of trust had worked both ways. She was willing to leave the marriage without a penny, but if something were to happen to her while she was married to Darren, she wanted her daughter taken care of. Shawna evidently had been afraid that Darren might cast Tracey out on the street. She'd insisted that Darren pay for the policy.

“So what are the ‘holes' you're gonna poke?” Darren demanded.

“Our arguments haven't changed, Darren. One, Shawna's not dead. Two, even if she is, someone else killed her.”

“Yeah, well, no question she's dead, so who are you gonna come up with that did it? Especially after Lonnie's testimony.”

Terrance repressed a wince. Darren had just broken one of the attorney's cardinal rules—not that it was the first time. Terrance did not care to openly speak with Darren Welk about any certainty of a fact they were going to argue against. For all the rhetoric about the open relationship between attorney and client, often the most important things remained unsaid. This delicately danced
pas de deux
began in the very first meeting. An attorney would pose careful questions to his client—where he was at the time of the crime, what he thought happened—while artfully sidestepping the main issue of guilt or innocence. The attorney could not put words in the client's mouth that might be a lie. Yet he had to lead the client to make statements that could support arguments of innocence.

A defense attorney's main goal was not to seek the truth. It was to defend his client.

“Darren,” Terrance said, his voice firm,“you hired me to handle your case. Now shut up and let me handle it. I don't have to ‘come up with' anyone in particular. All I need to do is raise the issue that there are others who
could
have done it.We've discussed this a dozen times.”

Darren opened his mouth in obvious retort, then clamped it shut. He groaned a sigh, dropped his head in one hand. “Terrance,” he mumbled, “I don't think I can stand this. I just want to get home to my son.”

Terrance focused on the dusty floor, feeling a mixture of sympathy and judgment. No matter what crime a defendant may have committed, ties to remaining loved ones often ran deep.

He pushed back his chair. “Get a good night's sleep, Darren,” he said quietly. “You did well in court today. You'll have to pull it off again tomorrow.”

Darren's head came up. He stuck a thumbnail against his teeth and gazed unfocused at the wall. “I just want to be with my son.”

Terrance regarded him in silence, then left the room.

NINE

Rogelio revved his car down the street, back muscles sagging from the day's work. The sun glinted off the hood of his Chevy, polished like glass the previous night. Rogelio took pride in his car. He was lucky to have it. Just as he was lucky to have a job and a roof over his head.Mama Yolanda had drilled gratitude into Rogelio since he was small. “God has given you many blessings,” he could hear her say. “This house, your mom, this country you live in. Be thankful.”

A familiar pang shot through Rogelio's heart. He
was
thankful. Even now. But how he wished he could still be thankful for his mom's presence.Her death had left an ache inside him that nothing seemed to fill. Grief had grown to be such a part of him, as familiar and attached as an arm or a leg. Losing Kristin had only added to the pain. But losing Kristin had been his fault. He was the one who'd dumped her because of his own guilt.

In ten minutes Rogelio was on the other side of town, waiting at the stoplight he knew so well.A right turn, two blocks, and he would be at Kristin's house. He wiped a trickle of sweat from his head. Scratched his ear, leaned an arm out the window, trying to tell himself he was okay, in control.

Rogelio prayed she would be home. Then prayed she wouldn't.

As he neared Kristin's house, his eyes landed on a new black convertible Mustang in her driveway. His heart fell.Who owned
that?
Some rich new boyfriend? Rogelio pulled up to the curb and stared at it, wondering if he should just drive away.He'd never said a word to his grandmother; she would never know. But Rogelio would.He'd made a promise to himself. He was not going to back out now.

So what if she has some new dude?
he told himself as he slid out of his car. It wasn't like he wanted her back.

He expected Kristin's front door to be open, letting air through the screen to cool the house. But the door was closed. So were the windows. He heard the sound of an air conditioner.

The front door pulled back and Kristin stepped out. Rogelio halted in his tracks, heart shaking.

“Hi,” she said. Looking so incredibly Kristin. Her white blond hair was a little shorter, now cut to her shoulders, her light skin smooth and creamy against a blue T-shirt and jean shorts. Her feet were bare. She gave him a tentative smile. “I saw you drive up.”

Rogelio nodded, searching for words. Her sudden presence jumbled all meaning from his head. He glanced at the Mustang. “Whose car?”

Kristin hesitated. “Mine.”

His eyes bugged.
“Yours?”

She surveyed him. “Why did you come, Rogelio?”

Hearing his name on her lips sent darts through his chest. “I … I wanted to talk to you.”

Her light green eyes wouldn't lift from his. “Okay.Want to come inside? It's cooler in there.My mom's not home.”

Rogelio nodded.Wordlessly he followed her into the small living room, a blast of air-conditioning surrounding him.“Nice refrigeration.” He pointed his chin at the unit in a side window.

“Yeah.”

Kristin sat on a yellow-flowered couch. It was new. So was the matching armchair across from it.And the television was larger than Rogelio remembered.A voice deep inside him whispered unwanted suspicions, and he pushed them away. He eased onto the opposite end of the couch.

“How'd you get that car?” he asked, trying to sound as if it didn't matter.

An unreadable expression flitted across her face. “My dad. He's got a new job. And he always said he wanted to buy me a car when I graduated from high school.”

“A car, yeah, but that's some ride!”

She shrugged.“Well, he's working at a dealership.He could get it for less money, you know?”

Rogelio looked into her eyes and knew she was lying.Her father was a loser. The man hardly ever talked to either her or her mom. And never paid any child support. “And the air conditioner and furniture?”

Kristin tensed. “Why all the questions, Rogelio? What is it to you?”

“What's the baby to you, Rogelio?”
The words filtered through his memory—the words she'd used to persuade him to sign the paper.

“Nothing, Kristin,” he said.

They stared at each other, defensiveness hanging between them. Then she rolled her eyes. “Oh, let's not fight.We haven't seen each other in too long. I'm glad to see you. Really.” She looked at him playfully, as if she were trying to tease him out of his suspicions. Funny thing, but it worked.

“I'm glad to see you, too.” He stretched his arm across the back of the couch. She reached out and grazed his fingers.

Her expression softened. “I've missed you.”

Rogelio could only nod. He placed his fingers over hers.

“Tell me what you've been doing,” she said.

Not much to tell.He still worked for the gardening company and sometimes picked up odd jobs on weekends. He couldn't save any money, every penny going toward bills. He and Mama Yolanda still visited the graves of his mother and grandfather every Sunday after Mass. He occasionally hung out with some of his old friends. But mostly he stayed home at night, watching Spanish television stations with his grandmother.He felt sorry for her; she was alone so much. Her few friends were with their own families in the evenings.When he went out, she was left by herself.

“How about you?”He rubbed her fingers.

“Well, I graduated from high school.Wish you'd been there.”

Rogelio felt bad.“Me too.”

“And I'm just kind of hanging out this summer.”

“You're not working?”

She lifted a shoulder. “No. But I—”

“What about insurance for the car?”

“It's paid for.” She didn't miss a beat. “For the next two years.”

Rogelio absorbed that fact. “So what are your plans?”

“I think I might move. I want to get out of Salinas. There's nothing here for me, you know?”

Rogelio's insides stilled. There were so many things he wanted to say.

Kristin seemed to sense that she'd hurt him. She blinked away her words. “Tell me why you came.”

He almost backed down. Saying the words would put his plans into action.He ought to just lie to her the way she was lying to him. He pulled his hand from hers. “I want to get the baby back for my grandmother.”

Kristin's face paled. She stared at him as if he'd gone mad.

“You won't have to do anything,” he assured her. “Except sign custody of the baby over to me and Mama Yolanda.”

“I can't do that.”Her eyes were wide. “And you can't, either.We made our decision, Rogelio. The baby belongs to someone else; there's nothing we can do.”

“Well, I've changed my mind. And I want her back.”

“You
can't,
don't you see?”Her gaze raked the wall. “It's legal; it's done. You can't just go get a baby once it belongs to someone else.”

“Not ‘it,' Kristin—she. The baby's a girl, not a thing.”

Her breathing grew shallow.“I know she's a girl,” she said tightly. “I birthed her.What did
you
do?”

Rogelio tilted his head back. “Kristin, we don't have to fight about this. I'm just telling you I'm going to fix what we did.Mama Yolanda cries over Roselita every day.”

“You can't, Rogelio.”Kristin scrambled to her feet. “An adoption isn't something you can ‘fix'!”

“Oh, yeah?” Rogelio pushed himself off the couch. “Isn't that what you did?”

Her mouth tightened. “What's that supposed to mean?”

He let his eyes wander over the couch, the chair and television set, the air conditioner. “Who
really
paid for all this, Kristin? And the car? And insurance?”

Anger made her throat splotchy-red. “I don't have to listen to this. Go home, Rogelio!” She flung her arm toward the door. Roge-lio caught her by the wrist.

“I'll go,” he said, his voice low.“But first you've got to tell me what you know about the adoption.What really happened.”

“I'm not telling you anything.” Her eyes filled with tears. “You signed the papers. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself.”

“I
do
blame myself, Kristin.”His grip tightened. “That's why I'm going to fix it. Now tell me.Who adopted the baby?”

Her mouth fell open.“How could I possibly know that? It wasn't that kind of adoption. I don't know them and they don't know us!”

Rogelio's eyes narrowed. “You don't know.”

“No! Now let go of me.”

He held on. “Then you're going to help me find out.We'll go to the adoption agency.”

“What adoption agency? Shawna Welk is
dead,
remember? There's no agency left.”A tear spilled on Kristin's cheek.

“You've got to know something.”

“I don't, really.”Her voice shook. “Please let this go, Rogelio.You don't know how hard it's been for me. I don't need you bringing it back in my face. I just want to get on with my life.”

For a moment Rogelio felt sorry for her; then it melted away. “I can tell how hard it's been.Must be mighty tough driving that car.”

She shook her head. “I just got it. I had to wait all this time.
Please,
Rogelio.”

“What do you mean, ‘wait'?”He pulled at her wrist.

Realization whisked across her face. “Nothing. I just—”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing!” she cried, yanking away her arm. “You'd better get out of here, or I'm calling the police!”

He turned away, disgust filling his throat.“No, you won't,Kristin. Because if you do, I'll have to tell them how you sold your own baby.”

“You sold her, too,” she sobbed. Rogelio jerked back to her.

“I got five thousand dollars, Kristin,” he breathed. “How much did
you
get? Forty thousand? Fifty?”

“Get out of here, Rogelio!” She pushed his chest. “I don't ever want to see you again!”