Naked Justice

Chapter 22

WHEN BEN RETURNED TO his office after the Barrett preliminary hearing, Loving was waiting for him, his eyes eager with anticipation. “How’d it go, Skipper?”

It occurred to Ben that if he could win murder trials, play all twenty-five Chopin preludes by heart, and recite “Annabel Lee” without error, he ought to be able to persuade Loving to stop calling him Skipper. But so far, not.

“Well, as I anticipated, Barrett was bound over for trial. We got a start date in about three weeks. And the judge denied my motion to suppress.”

“Damn!” Loving slammed one huge fist into the palm of his hand. “Did you show him the affidavits? You didn’t forget to show him the affidavits, did you?

“I assure you, I remembered.”

“Jeez, I worked my butt off gettin’ those guys to sign up.”

“I know, Loving, and I appreciate it.”

“They didn’t wanna do it, you know. ’Specially the cops.”

“Really. How did you persuade them?”

Loving shrugged. “I gotta lot of friends with the boys in blue. So do you, believe it or not. Even if you are a lawyer. They ain’t forgotten how you put yourself on the line to help catch the Kindergarten Killer. And none of them are too crazy ’bout Prescott. I can’t believe the judge turned down your motion.” He snapped his fingers. “It must be ’cause of all them reporters. You know how the media distort everything. They’re the ones who really pull the strings in this country.”

“Are they? I thought it was the military-industrial complex.”

“Jeez, you’re behind the times. The media bosses control everything now. They can make people believe anything they want. Look how they framed Tonya Harding.”

“What?”

Christina whirled around in her chair and pushed away from her desk. “I’ve gone through the prosecution exhibit list with a fine-tooth comb, Ben.”

“Good,” he said, happy to change the subject.

“I’ve identified all the evidence that hasn’t been produced. There’s definitely a pattern. Almost all of it came from the crime scene. They must be hiding something, but I don’t know what it is.”

“I do.” Ben threw his briefcase on top of her desk. “I knew as soon as I announced in court that the crime scene hadn’t been properly preserved. I knew from Bullock’s reaction.”

“He was surprised?”

“No. I’ve seen Bullock surprised before, and that wasn’t it. Oh, it was a good fake, but it didn’t fool me. He might’ve been surprised that I already found out, but he wasn’t surprised to hear that the crime scene was corrupted.”

“So why the big stall?”

“The less time we have to examine the evidence, the less time we’ll have to determine the extent of the corruption. He doesn’t want to fight any more evidentiary motions than necessary.” He turned back toward Loving. “How’s your snooping on the city council going?”

Loving frowned. “Slow. I made a list, talked to some of them. These are high-profile respectable citizen types, natch. No one volunteered that they’d hired a hit man.”

“Well, that’s no surprise.”

“I made some notes. Jones said he’d type them up.”

“Where is Jones, anyway?” Ben turned around. Jones was standing over his desk beside the phone. He seemed stricken. The blood had drained out of his face.

“Jones?” Ben walked beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

It took Jones more than a moment before he could respond. “I … just …” He shook his head, licked his lips. “I just got back from lunch.” His eyes drifted down toward the answering machine. “Thought I’d listen to the phone messages.”

Ben’s brow creased with concern. “And?”

His voice trembled a bit as he spoke. He was obviously shaken. “Listen.”

Jones turned the volume up to the highest setting. He pushed the Messages button. After a loud beep, they all heard the same two words repeated in a hushed, guttural monotone.

“Sick heart. Sick heart. Sick heart. Sick heart. Sick heart.”

The message was repeated again and again until the caller finally hung up. A harsh beep signaled the end.

“That’s … odd.” Ben said quietly.

“That would be one word for it,” Jones murmured.

“It must be the same creep,” Ben said. “The same nut who shut down your computer. But why? What’s the point? At least the computer trick interfered with our investigation. One message is hardly going to tie up the phone line.”

Loving shook his head. “He didn’t do this to tie up the phone, Skipper. He did this to scare the hell out of you. This is a threat.”

“Against Barrett?”

“No way. It ain’t that hard to get messages into the jailhouse. If he’d wanted it to go to Barrett, he would’ve sent it to Barrett.” He turned and faced Ben. “This was for you.”