Terrance had stood on the stand as a witness more times than Harvey had cared to count. As a street warrior for sale, he was always in the wrong place at the wrong time to see the wrong things.
Raised by his grandmother after his mother’s drug overdose when he was four-years-old, Terrance didn’t achieve much at school. It wasn’t until he hit a growth spurt at the age of fifteen that he found success—people wanted to use his powerful strength to their benefit. If he attended a better school, or if he had a better chance in life, then the people that went and saw him might have been football scouts.
Unfortunately, the scouts in Terrance’s neighborhood were drug dealers.
“You look ill, Terrance. Really ill. You really should go and get help.”
“Not a chance. Those quacks will only hook me up to machines and drag out my life for longer than it should go on. There’s no way I am putting my life in the hands of those pricks. I’ve had a good run at life. A really good run. I know that. There aren’t many gang members like me that could say they lasted into their late sixties. I’ve done some really evil things and hurt some really great people, and now my time is up. I accept that. I’m not going to fight anymore.”
“So you’re just going to die here? Watching daytime television in this isolated house?”
“This is a good spot. I like it here. There are birds; peace and quiet.” Terrance paused for a few moments and looked back longingly out the window. “The only other option is to die in prison. At least if that happened, I’d get a funeral. The guards would come. So would some of my fellow prisoners. Most of my old friends are in there, and they’ll never see freedom again. But I’m not going back to prison. No way. I’ve done my time in there, and I’ve seen enough of it to know that I’m not going to go back.” He wiped his eye with the back of his wrist. “If I die out here, nobody would even notice. Hell, they probably wouldn’t even find my body for weeks. You’re the first person to come to my house in a very long time.”
“Feeling sorry for yourself?”
“Someone has to.”
Pulling out a stool from under the kitchen bench, Harvey brushed the dust off it and sat down. “You need to ask for forgiveness, Terrance. You need to do that before you die.”
The statement startled him. “Who from?”
“From God, whichever one you believe in. Now is the time to make things right, Terrance. Ask for forgiveness for everything that you’ve done. You know that your time is almost up, and I can see in your eyes that you regret a lot of the things that you’ve done. Now is the time to ask for forgiveness.”
“You mean go into a church?”
Harvey nodded, and Terrance burst out laughing, followed by an aching cough.
“Church? Me? That’s a good one. Really good. If I had to confess my sins to a priest, I’d be there for hours. Hours and hours. Probably even days. The poor priest would have a heart attack after I told him what I’ve done. No way. It’s too late for that now. It’s time for me to pay the price. I’m getting what I deserve.”
“It’s not too late, Terrance. It’s never too late to do the right thing. You still have a chance to leave a mark on this world. Make sure you leave at least one good memory here.”
“I’m doing that.” Terrance coughed again, so deep that he had to lean forward. “I’m making sure that I leave one last good memory. One last piece of good here.”
“And what’s that?”
He waved his hand at Harvey, then coughed deeper still, hunched over his knees. When he had finished coughing, he wiped his eyes with the back of his sweater sleeve.
He avoided the question, stood up, and stumbled to the bathroom, trying to suppress his deep, harsh cough.
As he watched him walk away, Harvey wasn’t even sure if he would return.
Chapter 19
“You still here?” Terrance mumbled as he walked back down the hallway, wiping blood from the side of his mouth with a small towel.
“Five years ago, did you steal footage from the Ernest E. Debs Regional Park?”
“Footage?” He brushed the tip of his nose, blinking his eyes, trying to hold back the tears. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
It was clear that he was lying.
“Where is it?”
“I just told you that I don’t know about it.”
“And I don’t believe you. Where is it?”
“What do you want it for?” He slumped back onto the couch, directly angled at the television.
“Kevin Wu is coming at me. The only certain way to make this case disappear is to put him in prison for murder. I know you were with him the night that Tiffany Lee was kidnapped—”
“Tiffany?” His face was panicked.
“The LAPD received a tip-off that you were there that night. They’re looking for the body now. The footage will prove that Kevin Wu took the girl, not you.”
“What makes you think that I have the footage?”
“You’re his old muscle. If he needed something done, he turned to you. I know that’s how it works. And I know that you would have broken into the office and stolen the footage.”
Terrance shook his head. “Sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know why you wouldn’t have destroyed it, Terrance.” Harvey was bluffing. “You could use the footage as blackmail. If Kevin came at you, you could blackmail him with the footage. I know that. You would have been stupid to get rid of it, especially with someone like Kevin. It’s actually very clever on your behalf. If Kevin ever tried to turn you in for all the things you’ve done, you would have ammunition to save yourself.”
“I can’t help you.” Terrance rubbed his cheek with his left hand, another clear sign he was lying. “You might want to talk Monty Lee, his former business partner. He would be able to help you.”
“Monty Lee? Tiffany Lee’s father? Why would he have the footage of the night his daughter disappeared?”
“Not the footage. He would have the notes that Kevin used to write. And I’m sure he would still have all the black books that they used for the prostitution rings.” He shrugged. “It would be hard to get it from him because if he gives it to you, he’s incriminating himself. But it’s what the cops were looking for—evidence of his prostitution racket.”
“And where do I find Monty Lee?”
“I don’t know where he is. I’ve been looking for him for years.”
“And why would you be looking for him?”
“He has a lot of dirt on Kevin. A lot.” He avoided answering Harvey’s question directly. “He kept the books for Kevin’s businesses, and he would know everything about his past that’s needed to be known. He’s still got a score to settle with Kevin, so I’m sure you can convince him to give you information. Just be careful—Monty Lee still has one other daughter left, and he’s trying to protect her.”
“So where do I find him?”
“Like I said, it’d be hard to find him. He disappeared years ago. Took his wife, mother, and last remaining daughter, and fled the city. Lives in a house at the top end of the Angeles State Forest, I hear. Look for him up there. He’d still hold a grudge against Kevin for what happened, so if anyone is going to help you, it’s going to be him. Just be careful around him. Word is that he went a bit crazy before disappearing off the map.” Terrance rubbed the top of his bald head. “I tried to find him, but I never could. I think I got close once, but I never laid eyes on him. I still have a score to settle with him, too. If you find him, let me know.”
“Where would he be keeping the notes, Terrance? I doubt he’s lugging boxes of notes around with him everywhere he goes.”
“I don’t know.” He pulled up the sleeve of his sweater, dispersing the nervous energy of his lie. “Maybe in a basement.”
“In a basement?” Harvey raised his eyebrows at the strange reference.
“I suppose.” He shrugged. “I guess that’s where people keep valuable things that they don’t want found in a
house.”
Moving under the pressure of the man’s stare, Terrance struggled to get comfortable in his well-worn position.
“Does this house have a basement?”
“Nope.” Terrance shook his head. “If it did, I would have a lot more stuff down there. Maybe even open it up to Airbnb. ‘A Basement on the edge of Wilderness,’ I’d call it. That’d be great.” He laughed at his joke, but his laugh was short-lived, as it turned into another aching cough.
“Where did Kevin bury Tiffany Lee?”
Terrance looked up at Harvey, mouth slightly open. “Who said she’s been buried? She might not be dead.”
“A witness is stating that you were driving a car—seen at the entrance of the Ernest E. Debs Regional Park, not far from here—that Kevin stepped out of. He then walked around to the trunk and pulled out Tiffany Lee,” Harvey stated.
“I don’t think that witness is telling the truth.” Terrance’s bottom lip quivered, and he bit it, turning his head away from Harvey, wiping his eyes with the back of his wrist, sniffing loudly. “I didn’t know what was going to happen that night. I still don’t know what happened to her. I just hope she ran away into the reserve. Tiffany was just a little girl, and she didn’t deserve to be caught up in her father’s mess.”
Harvey nodded. “I need that footage, Terrance. I need you to tell me where I can find it.”
“That’s not going to happen.” Terrance shook his head. “Kevin and I fell out years ago, but I’m still not going to cross him. He’s too powerful for a man like me. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“You know he set me up from day one. You know that he planned to blame his actions on the hypnotherapy sessions.”
“He’s finally done it?”
“Done what?
Terrance smiled. “Years ago, he told me all his plans. After Amy disappeared, his wife wanted him to go straight, so she pushed him to go to hypnotherapy sessions with you. His wife was still angry, you know, so he went for her sake. But then, he got an idea. He was going to go to you, conduct the hypnotherapy sessions, and then take drugs before he went into his brain scan. After that, he was going to hurt Monty Lee, and then blame you for controlling his actions. The brain scan would have proved that he was still under the influence of your hypnotherapy sessions, and he would escape the criminal charges. Except things didn’t go to plan, and he didn’t hurt Monty Lee…”
“He hurt the daughter instead.”
Terrance shook his head. “I didn’t know he was going to do that. He never told me that.”
“So you’ll testify all that information?”
“Just because I know it all doesn’t mean that I’m going to testify. I’m not going to cross him. And if you force me to come to court, then I’ll deny everything.”
Harvey studied Terrance’s movements, almost defeated, almost gone. Back arched forward, eyes focused downwards, sadness on his face; Terrance was not going to change his mind today. Harvey had planted the seed, the first step to getting Terrance to testify. With a few more visits, he felt he could convince him to come onside, but that day was not going to be today.
Harvey stood to depart, leaving the former hit man to his daytime soap.
“Harvey?”
“Yes, Terrance.”
Terrance looked down at his worn hands, studying them like he was seeing them for the first time. “I’m dying, Harvey.”
Harvey nodded slowly.
“My liver’s gone, and death will be here for me soon.” He looked to the distance, blinking back more tears. “And I don’t have any friends out here. All my real friends, the ones I could count on, are all locked up or dead. Those from the war, those good men that I watched die, are waiting for me in the next life, but there aren’t many other people I know. I know you and I have had our run-ins over time, I know that I’ve done bad, but before I go to the other side, I need your help.”
“What is it?”
“When I pass and see my friends…” He took a long pause, gulping before he continued. “When I die, can you go into my yard, out back here, and sprinkle my ashes. It’s where I want to end up. Can you promise me that you’ll do that?”
It seemed like a strange request, and Harvey knew there was more to it.
Walking across to the heavy man sitting on the couch, he placed a consoling hand on his shoulder.
“Do the right thing, Terrance. Go to church and ask for forgiveness,” he said quietly. “And I will sprinkle your ashes, my friend.”
Chapter 20
Walking into the courthouse as a defendant didn’t sit well with Bill Harvey.
Judge Derek Dean was waiting impatiently as he walked into the conference room at the end of a long corridor of the courthouse. An old, skinny man with a rugged face, Judge Dean looked like he had seen more long days than most. He easily looked twenty years older than he was, which was difficult considering he was approaching sixty. Sunken eyes, narrow cheeks, thinning hair; obviously, nobody told him there was more to life than work.
But for all his harrowed looks, Judge Dean was good at his job, with a reputation as being firm but fair.
“Good of you to finally join us, Mr. Harvey,” Kevin Wu quipped from the other side of the meeting room, staring down at his expensive Rolex. “We’re not keeping you from something, I hope.”
“You’re keeping me from my real job,” Harvey fired back as he placed his briefcase down.
“I take it that you received my lunch gift? I hope it tasted as delicious as it looked.”
“What’s he even doing here?”
“He requested it, and I allowed it.” Judge Dean didn’t lift his eyes from his paperwork. “And I will request that you remain quiet for the duration of this discussion, Mr. Wu.”
“And I request that Kevin withdrew this ridiculous lawsuit, then we can all go about our lives, and I would be able to defend people that actually need it.”
The dim conference room had seen many heated arguments between lawyers over the years. A well-used dark oak table sat in the middle of the stuffy room, and the chairs look like they had been taken straight from a business conference area. The small window at the rear of the room lit the back of Judge Dean, making him appear almost holy.
“We’re not withdrawing the case today, Mr. Harvey.” Seated next to Kevin Wu was Taylor Reaper, one of California’s finest, and best dressed, defense attorneys.
A persistent overachiever, Reaper started his own firm in his late twenties, and over the last decade, he had grown that firm into a juggernaut of a business. With model looks, strangely bright teeth, and wavy hair that looked like it was made out of silk, Taylor was the perfect Hollywood lawyer. His fees were very high—enough to afford two mansions in Palos Verdes Estates, one for him and one for his ex-wife, along with three sports cars, an eighty-foot yacht, and numerous mistresses.
“I see that you’ve come to lose another case, Taylor.”
“You didn’t beat me on merit last time. You got lucky, that’s all.”
The only three losses Taylor had ever experienced as a lawyer had been against Bill Harvey. And that fact couldn’t frustrate Taylor more.
“I charge by the minute, so let’s make this quick.”
“We’re not looking to hire you as a lawyer, you pompous bastard,” Taylor growled, leaning forward, trying to resist the temptation to jump across the table and grab his opponent. “This case is worth more than you can afford, and I’m going to see that you pay every single cent of it.”
“Just because you can’t beat me in court doesn’t mean that you can sue me for it. You’re only here for me, Taylor, not for this case.”
“You’re right. I am here for you. And I’m here for justice.”
“Justice? You don’t know what justice is!”
“Now, now, boys. Let’s not get too upset.” Judge Dean threw out his hands in defense. “Leave your personal differences outside, please. This is a professional environment, and I expect you to act like it is.”
Opening his briefcase with a smug smirk planted on his face, Taylor removed a number of thick files, placing them on the table between himself and Harvey. The files didn’t hold much important information, but it was a show of force—he was prepared to take this to court and fight based on the weight of evidence.
“Now, let’s turn our focus on the facts. Your motion to strike has been rejected.” Judge Dean flicked through the file in front of him, looking over the top of his reading glasses. “And as this is an unusual case, and I don’t want to test it in court, how about we all act like adults and settle this before that happens.”
“How could you dismiss this motion?!” Harvey’s arms flex.
“How could I not?” Judge Dean retorted. “The plaintiff has presented an astounding amount of evidence to back his argument.”
“The amount of evidence does not conclude its validity!”
“No, but the strength of it does!” Judge Dean slapped the file shut. “They have expert witnesses, doctors, and scientists, who are willing to testify in the change of brain pattern behavior after the sessions of hypnotherapy with you. They have brain scans that present a change in brain behavior before and after the sessions. That, at least, is worth hearing in a court. Now, Mr. Harvey, settle down, and settle this case.”
“We’d be happy to settle.” Taylor smirked again, drumming his hands on the edge of the table like an excited schoolboy.
“Have you tried to at least attempt to settle this dispute out of court?” Judge Dean opened another file on his checklist.
“We have discussed the case via telephone, and we have informed the defendant that we’re willing to settle for half the amount, namely $50,000,000. We think that’s a very rational amount considering the damage that has been done to my client’s life.”
Harvey’s response was overtly sarcastic. “How very reasonable.”
Bill Harvey Collection Page 53
