Until the Final Verdict (13 page)

“E
MMA, MAY
I
SPEAK
with you, please?”

Ashley leaned close and whispered, “Uh-oh! What'd you do?”

“Nothing.”

“You must have or she'd have sent her assistant to get you.”

Margaret Cheng, principal of Holy Cross Middle School, picked her way through the whooping, hollering students who spilled out of their last classes for the day. “Please excuse us, Ashley.”

Ashley hugged Emma. “See you at choir.”

“Emma will be excused from choir practice today,” Cheng said. “Now run along so you aren't late.”

Emma turned to the school principal. “Am I in big trouble?”

Cheng put her arm around Emma's shoulder. “Would you come with me, please?”

Emma followed Cheng into The Office, where students never went unless they had done something wrong. When Cheng swung open the door to her private office, a woman was waiting.

Emma looked at Cheng. “What's going on?”

“Mrs. Guererro wants to speak to you, Emma.”

Short and heavyset with dark olive skin and piercing brown eyes, Frederika Guererro's grandmotherly demeanor around children belied her tenacious intensity, qualities that were essential to the head of the County Human Resources Agency's Child Protective Services Division.

“I've worked with your mother, and heard a lot about you, Emma. I'm happy to finally meet you.”

“Thank you.”

Guererro glanced at Cheng. “Would you excuse us?”

When the door closed, Guererro said softly, “I have some bad news.”

Emma's eyes widened as she remembered the day she heard her father had been shot to death in a Los Angeles courtroom. “Is my mom dead?”

“No.”

“Did something happen to her?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“She's been beaten up.”

“Take me to see her.”

“I wish I could, but it's not that simple. She is in custody. Do you know what that means?”

“She didn't do it.”

“If you'll tell me what you've heard, I'll try to help you sort things out.”

Emma glanced around like she might take off, but perched nervously on the edge of the chair. “Some kids said my mom got arrested and fired from her job because she murdered Doctor Simmons.”

“Did you believe them?”

“No.”

“Well, it's not true that your mother got fired. She's still District Attorney, but she's taking some time off.”

“Did she get arrested like they said?”

“I'm afraid so.”

“My mom wouldn't kill anyone.”

“I don't think so, either, so if Mr. McCaskill made a mistake, they'll figure it out.”

“Who beat her up?”

“Some inmates at the jail. Officers called an ambulance, and they took her to the hospital.”

“Can I see her?”

“Not right now.”

“You didn't come to tell me about Mom, did you?”

“Sometimes children are left alone temporarily, with no family to take care of them. It's my job to help.”

“I'm not a child, I'm twelve.”

“I understand, but the law requires—”

“I won't go with you.”

“You have no choice, Emma.”

“I can stay at my friend Ashley's house, it'll be all right with her mom and dad, they like me.”

“I'm sure they do, but—”

“Then call Sheriff Granz, you know him, I can stay at his house.”

“Emma . . .”

Emma jumped up. “You can't make me, damn you!”

“You have to go with me. It'll be better for us both if you don't make me force you.”

“I don't care what's better for you, I hate you.”

“I know this isn't easy for you.”

“How would you know? Did anyone ever come to your school and lock you up?”

“I'm not going to lock you up.”

“Same thing. If you really wanted to help me, you'd take me to Dave's house.”

“I can't, I'm sorry.”

“You're a liar. You aren't sorry.”

E
MMA STOOD JUST INSIDE
the door to Kathryn's hospital room and stared in horror, barely able to choke the words out between sobs. “Why did those women beat you up, Mom?”

“They thought I was someone else, honey, someone they don't like.” Kathryn patted the mattress.

Emma sat on the side of the bed and gently stroked her mother's bruised, swollen face. “Does it hurt?”

“Not as bad as it looks.”

“You didn't kill Doctor Simmons, right?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why does Mr. McCaskill think you did?”

“I don't know.”

“I hate him!”

“Em . . .”

“I hate Mrs. Guererro, too.”

Kathryn glanced at Dave. “Frederika Guererro, from Child Protective Services?”

“She put Emma in foster care for the night,” Dave explained.

“Mrs. Roseboro's,” Emma said. “I told Mrs. Guererro I wanted to stay with Dave, but she wouldn't take me there. I got mad and said ‘damn you.' That wasn't very Christian, was it?”

“No, but under the circumstances God will forgive you.” Kathryn tried to prop herself up, but groaned and lay back down. “Dammit, Dave, why didn't you go get Emma from the foster home when you found out?”

“McCaskill timed your arrest so that by the time I got the word, CPS offices had closed for the day. I called Guererro at home, but she wouldn't tell me where they'd placed Emma without a court order.”

“Did you tell her . . .”

“No, she assured me Emma was safe.”

“No thanks to that SOB McCaskill. Well, at least you were able to pick Em up at school this afternoon and bring her to see me.”

“I didn't pick her up.”

“How did she get here?”

“I didn't go to school today,” Emma said. “When Mrs. Roseboro dropped me off at school this morning, I ran away.”

“You what!”

“She came to my office just as I was leaving for the hospital,” Dave said.

“Oh, Emma!” Kathryn sighed through her swollen lips. “Where did you go?”

“The mall.”

“Today's Thursday—didn't anyone ask why you weren't at school?”

“There's always kids in the food court.”

“How did you get to Dave's office?”

“Walked.” She paused, then brightened. “I'm glad you and Dave got married, now I can stay with him.”

“Dave? You told her?”

“On the way here. I couldn't let her worry about having a home. Didn't figure you'd mind under the circumstances.”

“Dave and I wanted to tell you together, Em, to make it a really special occasion. But when—well, then we didn't know how.”

“That's okay.”

Kathryn held Emma's hand. “Were you happy when Dave told you?”

“Sure.”

“Surprised?”

“Oh, Mom, course not, it was inevitable.”

Kathryn laughed despite her shredded lips. “I suppose it was.”

“Dependency hearing's scheduled for tomorrow, Babe,” Dave said. “The court'll appoint lawyers for you and Emma. I'll set up a meet with them in the morning before the hearing, show 'em the marriage certificate, tell them you won't contest the dependency hearing if they place Emma with me.”

Kathryn's swollen, blackened eyes filled with tears.

Dave looked at Emma, then at Kathryn. “Did I say something wrong?”

She dabbed at her tender eyes with a tissue. “Men don't understand the first thing about a woman's emotions.”

“Mom, will you have to go back to jail when you get out of the hospital?”

“Yes, until I prove I'm innocent.”

“How can you do that?”

“I talked to some lawyers this afternoon. By tonight, I'll have hired one of them to work with me to prove my innocence.”

Dave sat on the bed beside Emma, dug in his pants pocket, and fished out a handful of change, which he handed to her. “I'm thirsty, Em. Would you please find a soda machine and buy three Diet Cokes.”

Emma juggled the coins. “There must be five bucks here. Can I buy a Snickers?”

“You'll spoil your dinner.”

“You sound just like Mom. C'mon, I'm starving.”

“Okay.”

When Emma left, Kathryn smiled and picked up Dave's hand. “Well, she was really impressed about us getting married. Inevitable, indeed!”

“At twelve years old, things are a lot simpler. She probably saw it coming all along, even when you and I didn't. Makes you wonder about the old adage that age brings wisdom, huh?”

“I'll say.”

“What lawyers did you call?”

“I didn't, I was just trying to reassure Emma. I wanted to talk to you about it because I really don't know who to call.”

“Start with
what
you need, that'll tell you
who.
You
need a lawyer who's got the guts to do battle, fight a long, bloody, no-holds-barred war, do whatever it takes to win.”

“You make it sound like the lawyer would be more important than the case, even for someone who's innocent.”

“You're the best prosecutor I know, Babe, but right now you're sounding like a typical defendant. If you were thinking straight, you'd know that criminal defense is about persuasion. The right lawyer's impact on a jury can make the difference between acquittal and life in prison. Think about Johnnie Cochran and O.J. You need a bulldog with an overpowering personality, yet enough charisma to sway a jury despite the evidence.”

“Despite
the evidence! McCaskill doesn't have a witness who saw me dump digitalis in Simmons' Diet Coke—does he?”

“The important thing is that your lawyer is totally dedicated to your welfare. McCaskill's a prick, but he's a damn good prosecutor, and there's plenty of evidence for a lawyer to overcome.”

“You didn't answer.” She stared at him for several seconds, but decided not to press. “Anyway, his evidence is all circumstantial.”

“We both know that more often than not there's no witness to a murder. Besides, eyewitnesses are less reliable than solid circumstantial evidence. And his evidence looks pretty damn solid to me.”

“Do I have a chance?”

“Only if your lawyer's creative, resourceful, tough as nails, and a kick-ass cross-examiner. Someone
who, if McCaskill opens up the tiniest crack, will drive a Mack truck through it.”

“Any suggestions?”

“What about James Brosnahan of San Francisco?”

“His representation of die-hard bin Ladin supporter John Walker provoked such an uproar at his firm and with his clients, I wouldn't want him by my side.”

“You can't ignore the fact that your case is politically charged. McCaskill's going to drag you through the dirt, make you look like a monster. He knows enough about you, Simmons, and me that he might pull it off, too. What he lacks in facts he'll make up. You need a lawyer who can bring out your best so the jury's sympathetic.”

“Someone local who jurors know and respect and who's tried enough cases against McCaskill to know all his sleazy tactics and can head them off beforehand.”

“Roger Griffith.”

“He was the first person I thought of, too. He's the best defense attorney in the county. I'll call him as soon as you and Emma take off.”

“You need rest. Get some sleep, call him tomorrow morning.”

“There's no time to waste. I'm going to refuse to waive time, make McCaskill take me to trial right away.”

“What if Griffith doesn't agree?”

“I'll hire someone else.”

“That'd get you to trial right away and make it harder for McCaskill to prepare his case, but it might
backfire. Griffith needs time to find ways to punch holes in McCaskill's case. I'm not sure refusing to waive time's a good idea.”

“Me neither, but if I don't, I won't get to trial for a year or longer. I won't live that long in jail.”

“I'll put you in ‘Q.' ” He referred to the secure section of the jail where high-risk and extremely violent inmates were housed to segregate them from the general population, and isolate them from each other.

“Even in Q you can't protect me that long. Someone'll eventually figure a way to get to me, and next time, they'll kill me.”

“You're probably right.”

“I
am
right. And I need to end this for Emma's sake.”

Dave sighed. “I know. Let's hope if Griffith agrees to defend you that he can put together a strong defense quickly.”

“If he can't, no one can. Now, go find Em so I can say good night, then get out of here so I can phone Griffith.”