Blood Defense

FORTY-FOUR

Our trip back to the office was slow going. We’d hit the freeway at the heart of rush hour. I dragged my eyes from the mesmerizing river of lights and searched on my cell phone for Storm Cooper.

Alex glanced at me. “You looking up-”

“Storm Cooper. Yeah.” But the Internet connection was slow. I made myself look away from the little spinning blue wheel of death. I read a study that said watching those things increases your risk of heart attack. Of all the ways to go, that had to be a top-five contender for the stupidest. Right behind a roller coaster accident and autoerotic… anything. When I looked down at the screen, I found a bunch of results. Storm Cooper was on Facebook, LinkedIn, Snapchat… everywhere. “He’s a stuntman-”

“The name sure fits.”

“And he’s definitely single. He’s not bad looking. I get what Paige saw in him.” I read his description on IMDb, an entertainment-industry website. “Five foot nine, brown hair, and he looks buffed out. Kind of reminds me of one of those gladiators in a Spartacus flick.” I pushed the link for his phone number and listened to the line ring. It went to voice mail. I left a message saying I needed to talk to him about Paige and gave him my number.

“Kind of weird that we haven’t heard anything about him,” Alex said. “It seems like he’s known Paige for a while, but he’s not on the DA’s witness list, and he didn’t give a statement to the police. At least not that I saw.”

I shook my head. “He definitely didn’t.” I called Michelle and told her to put Storm Cooper’s call through to my cell the minute it came in.

She’d sounded fine when I’d talked to her on the phone, but when we walked into the office, Michelle gave us an ominous look.

Oh hell no. Another dead woman in Dale’s past? I didn’t want to ask. I stared at her.

“You’re not going to like this. I know I sure don’t. I just got a call from your burglar boyfriend, Scott Henderson. He’s not going to give you the phone until you substitute in on his case.”

Relief that it wasn’t another dead body mixed with irritation. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight: That little douche nozzle doesn’t trust me?”

Michelle had a sour look. “I’d tell him to go piss up a rope, but I assume you still want to find out what’s on that phone?”

“I do.” I didn’t like getting played like this. But it was just a low-level dope case. I should be able to get rid of it in one appearance. “Tell him I want proof-”

“He said he’d send by a ‘compatriot’ to show it to us. But we’d better not ‘try anything’ because his buddy wouldn’t be alone.”

Now I was good and pissed. “You have got to be kidding me. That putz… tell him if his ‘compatriot’ tries to pull anything, I’ll tell the cops he did the burglary.”

Alex had a worried look. “What about the privilege?”

“There’s no privilege if he threatens me.”

Alex frowned. “It didn’t exactly sound like he-”

“It will when I talk to the police. Michelle, I assume he’s going to call back?”

“Any minute. I spoke to him right after you called from the road, so he knows you’re due back around now.”

“I’m not talking to him until I see that phone. But get his case number and all the info. If someone shows up with the phone, try and get me on calendar tomorrow so I can substitute in and get rid of the case.”

“Got it. Oh, and your cop buddy Hank said she’d be coming by.”

“Great.” I’d added Scott Henderson’s rap sheet to the other information I’d asked her to get. Now was the perfect time to find out whether all this hassle over the phone was even remotely worth it.

Michelle gestured to the stack of juror questionnaires on her desk. “And I’m about done with those.” She blew out a breath. “I don’t know how it happened, but more than half your panel is under the age of thirty-five. A solid third are in their twenties.”

“How bad are they?”

Michelle shook her head. “They don’t trust cops, they think the system is ‘rigged,’ and they’re not big fans of lawyers. The only good news is that they don’t seem to like prosecutors, either.”

“So we’d probably get along great at a party, but they’ll tank me in trial.”

Michelle nodded. “Exactly.”

Perfect. “Alex, let me know what you think when you get done.”

“I’ve only got about twenty more to go. I’ll be done by tonight.” Alex turned to go back to his office, then paused. “Hey, do you want me to call my uncle and get us backup for when Scott’s guys show up?”

“Your uncle?”

“He’s a bail bondsman. He’s got muscle that helps him out when he needs it.”

“I have a feeling Scott’s pretty lightweight, and he needs us right now. So I think we’re good. But thanks. I’ll remember that.”

And I meant it. Ever since Lane Ockman had managed to penetrate our airtight security system-AKA, the intercom-I’d been thinking that moving into better digs might be more necessity than luxury. And I’d hoped this damn case would generate the income to let us do that. But so far, all it’d generated were death threats, hate mail, and pissed-off drug dealers.

Alex hovered in my doorway. “Uh, Sam?” I looked up. “That cell phone. Aren’t we supposed to turn that over to the judge… or the cops? It’s physical evidence. The book says-”

“That we’re not allowed to hang on to physical evidence. Yeah. So what? How’re they going to find out? You think Scott’s going to fink on us?”

“No, but if we get caught-”

I waved him off. “We won’t. Chill out.”

Alex gave me a worried look, but he went back to his office.

I might have to burn that damn book of his. Turn over that cell phone. As if. I went back to work and plowed through the rest of the questionnaires. Michelle was right. Our jury pool was young, skeptical, and unsympathetic. The only question was who they’d hate more: Zack’s cops-or mine.

I’d just finished the last depressing questionnaire when Hank showed up.

We sat down in my office. “How’s Naille doing? Has he started school?”

“Started it and already kicking ass. One of his teachers asked him to do a special project.”

“I’m not surprised. He’s an amazing talent.”

“How about you?” She eyed the stack of questionnaires on my desk. “How’s it look?”

“Like they’ll be ready to vote before Zack calls his first witness.”

“Well, that sucks.” Hank pulled a file out of her purse. “I checked out Ignacio Silva.” Her expression said I wasn’t going to like this. “When he was on patrol, he had a rep for being baton happy. He’s got some use-of-force complaints in his file-”

“You didn’t pull his file, did you?” That might get back to Zack and tip him off to check out Ignacio.

“Give me some credit.”

“Sorry. Are any of the complaints recent?”

“The latest one was two years ago, and there were a couple more before that. I talked to Jay Gerber about him. Jay was my firearms trainer in the academy, and I know he’s a straight-up guy. He worked in West LA with Ignacio for about a year. Said he didn’t care for Ignacio’s style, but he didn’t give me any specifics.”

“Damn. Ignacio’s my alibi witness-”

“For the double?”

“No, for the murder of the hooker. You’re sure this is solid information?”

“As solid as rumors and opinions can be. Though Jay’s usually pretty reliable.”

It didn’t mean Ignacio was lying. But it might mean there were more problems in his past than Hank could find just by snooping around. I’d have to think long and hard about whether I wanted to use him. “Were you able to get any reports on Marc Palmer?”

Hank tapped the file folder. “They’re all in there. I didn’t read it line for line, but I saw that the coroner called it an ‘inconclusive.’ He was a friend of Paige’s?” I nodded. “I don’t know what you’ll do with it, but it is interesting.”

I didn’t know what I’d do with it, either. So far, it looked like nothing. “What about Scott Henderson?”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “How’d you wind up with this guy? He looks like public-defender material to me.”

“He might be doing me a favor. I need to make sure the favor is worth my time.”

Hank paused for a beat, but when I didn’t elaborate, she continued. “He’s got two DUIs, one receiving stolen property that wound up getting dismissed for insufficient evidence, and one possession for sale of weed that got busted down to straight possession.”

“Was he on probation when he got that last bust?” If he was, he’d probably do time on the probation violation no matter what kind of deal I made.

Hank pulled out the rap sheet and studied it. “No. Matter of fact, he completed probation a year ago.” She looked up. “Not bad.”

Scott’s rendition of his criminal history had been semi-accurate. Shocking.

Hank’s phone rang. She looked at the screen. “Sorry, got to take this.”

I gestured for her to go ahead and went out to the anteroom to give her privacy. She came out a minute later. “I’ve got to go.”

“Thank you, Hank. I really appreciate it.”

“My pleasure.” Hank headed for the door, then paused. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask. That check I wrote for Naille’s defense… it hasn’t cleared yet. You lose it or something?”

I shrugged. “Might’ve accidentally shredded it.”

Hank shook her head, then gave me a smile. “Thanks.”

I waved her off. She left and I got back to work. At six thirty, the intercom buzzed, and a voice that sounded like a high school girl’s said, “Scott sent me.”

I got my gun and hurried out to Michelle. I whispered, “I’ll be right inside my office. Pick up your phone and dial 9-1. If anything looks funny, hit the other 1 and leave the line open. I’ll come out and hold them off.”

Michelle nodded. I stood against the wall in my office and held my gun next to my chest with both hands. I heard her hit the buzzer. The door opened. A skinny, long-haired boy who looked about seventeen and a girl who looked to be maybe twenty walked in. They both bore a stunning resemblance to Scott. I checked their hands for weapons. I didn’t see any, but the girl had her right hand in the pocket of her hoodie.

I came out with my gun behind my back just as Alex came out of his office. The two backed up and gave us wary looks. The boy spoke first. “Scott said to just show you the phone. He said you couldn’t have it yet.”

I looked at the girl’s right hand and lowered the gun to my side. “Let’s see that hand. Slowly.”

Her eyes got as wide as silver dollars when she saw my gun. She slowly pulled out her hand. Which was holding the cell phone. Alex and I moved forward. She took a step back. “D-don’t try anything.”

I rolled my eyes. “We’re not trying anything. How can we tell if that’s the phone if you don’t let us see it?”

It was a flip phone. She opened it, punched a couple of keys, and held it up so we could see the screen. It showed Chloe and Paige, their arms around each other, in glittery party hats that said HAPPY NEW YEAR! The girl lowered the phone, tapped another key, and held it up again. It showed Chloe lying on the couch, a script in her lap, her palm held out at the camera in a “Stop” sign. I recognized the couch as the one that’d been in their apartment.

Screw these bullshit games. I should just take the damn thing. I had a gun and they didn’t. I took a step toward them, but the girl dropped the phone into her pocket, backed up to the door, and opened it. She was about to bolt. I couldn’t shoot her, and I didn’t want to get caught chasing her down the hall trying to tackle her. “Fine. But tell your brother if that phone isn’t on my desk the minute I substitute in, I’ll dump his case and tell the DA he did the burglary.”

They nodded and ran out the door. I noticed they didn’t deny being Scott’s siblings. I went back to my office and put my gun away.

Alex followed me into my office. “That was a flip phone.”

“Yeah. I would’ve thought she’d have something newer.”

“Not if it’s a burner.”

I stared at Alex. A burner is what you get when you want privacy, when you don’t want cell-phone records that show who owns the phone. You know, in case someone’s wife decides to check his cell-phone bill.