Edie shivered. Her arms relaxed. Lauren could see she was forcing herself to loosen the muscles that kept the gun level and at the ready. Lauren’s heart pumped once, twice. It was starting to work again.
“And you got out?” Eli urged her to keep talking. Edie looked beautiful when she was surprised. She had almost forgotten Eli was there. Edie looked at him. She relaxed, seeming to like him there, as if he were the only sane one to talk to.
“Yes. I got out. Why turn back after coming all that way? I ran across the street. I called to him. It took him a minute to recognize me. Can you believe it? I mean we’re in trial, and he doesn’t recognize me.”
Edie snorted at the absurdity of that; at the insult of that. Who, after all, was she really? She shook her head and let the gun fall to her side. Edie leaned back against a low chest of drawers. She was tired and she talked to the floor. “I told him that I knew what he was going to do. He told me to get out of the way. He actually put his hand out to push by me. I don’t know, I guess that did it.” Edie ran a hand through her hair, pushing away all that dark hair but not the memories. “I ran in front of him again and put my hands out I’d come all that way and I had something to say, he could at least do me the courtesy of listening.” She shook back her head and looked at all of them to see if they understood. Allan turned toward the window. Edie’s expression soured.
“That’s right, Allan. Turn away. You always do. You always expect other people to do your dirty work. Well, baby, I did it Yes, I did, and I thought that would clear the way for us. What a fool I am.”
Edie breathed deep.
“I took out my gun. I showed it to him. I told the judge he might as well take a gun and shoot you through the heart if he was going to ruin your life. I told him that, Allan. I told him he should love you more than that.”
When she finished, the silence in the room was deafening. Allan’s clocks were state of the art, there were none that ticked away the minutes. The situation demanded courage from someone. It didn’t come from Allan.
“I never asked you to do anything like that, Edie,” Allan whispered.
“No, you’re right,” she said in defeat. “I suppose I always wanted you to though. I would have killed for you, Allan. But this was an accident. Caufeld started to shove past me again when a gang of kids came around the corner. I knew where I was, and it was no place for me at that time of night. I reacted. It was a reflex. I put my finger on the trigger just in case I had to defend myself. Caufeld pushed. I fired. It happened so damn fast, Allan.”
“That’s why the entry wound was at that angle. You were taller than the judge,” Lauren said.
“Nobody even looked at that evidence when we were trying to bring Henry in on this. Boyd was better. He was taller.” Edie wasn’t showing off. She had thought of just about everything before the rest of them. But work didn’t interest her anymore. She wanted them to know about that night. “I thought maybe Caufeld was wounded, but I ran. I came here wanting to be with you when they found out I’d shot him. I knew he’d tell it was me. My life was over, and I wanted to be here, with you. But Caufeld never woke up, did he? He died. I killed him. Your problem was taken care of. You were safe, I was safe and that’s all that mattered.”
“How did Damien Boyd get into all this?” Lauren asked.
“If you had just let that go, Lauren, I wouldn’t be telling you any of this, you know?” Edie laughed. “I can’t believe you and Mr. Background Checker here were the ones who messed that one up. It was the perfect ending.”
“Was he a random choice, Edie? How’d you manage it?” Eli asked, enthralled by the story, and knowing there wasn’t much time before Edie got tired of telling it.
“I wish I could say that was my idea. Mark found him. He had his own problems. He ordered the guard off Caufeld. So, in a way, he was just as responsible for the judge’s death as I was.”
“Why would he do that?” Lauren put a hand on the back of a chair just to connect to something.
“You’re not going to believe this. Nick Cheshire? The CI we were all counting on to testify against the Stewarts? He was having an affair with a biker broad and that’s what got him beat to a pulp. Mark thought the militia had uncovered him and blamed Caufeld’s procrastinating for leaving Nick exposed. Mark knee-jerked, pulled the guard and that was that. When Mark found out the truth, he tried to cover his bases because he knew he couldn’t convict Henry Stewart.”
“He looked in his files and found Damien. He’s got a history of sorts with Judge Caufeld, he’s in the right neighborhood and a few well-placed questions put him on that block at the right time,” Lauren finished for her.
“It sounded good. We told the papers you were out on grief leave. All we had to do was wrap up the Stewarts, send someone down for the Caufeld murder, and then you come back when this mess is finished.” Edie twirled the gun, pleased with the grand proportion of the circle of events. “Actually, considering that everyone was acting out their own little scenario, things didn’t turn out too badly. All you had to do, Lauren, was let Mark investigate Caufeld’s murder. And you,” she turned toward Eli who gave her a smile. She smiled back. “You just had to close the file.”
“Guess I can do that now, can’t I?” Eli was charming. Eli didn’t move. Neither did Lauren. Allan walked to the couch. He touched the back of it and looked at Edie’s profile.
“I want you to know I’ll do everything I can for you, Edie. It will never go to first degree,” Allan spoke slowly. For the first time since Wilson’s death, Allan was finally feeling the impact.
“Oh, Allan,” Edie sighed and in those two words Lauren heard all the love, the forgiveness for his shortcomings, the patience Edie Williams had lavished on Allan Lassiter all these years. She almost looked away to allow them as private a moment as possible. Then she heard, “I’m so sick of you.”
With that, Edie turned the gun and fired. Lauren put her hands over her ears. The retort was deafening. She crunched. Allan hollered and Eli fell.
“Eli!” Lauren screamed. She rushed to him, but Edie didn’t want her there.
“Get away, Get away?” Edie seethed. She stalked toward Lauren.
“Edie, what are you doing? Are you crazy? Edie, for God’s sake,” Allan called. Edie swung back toward him, her arm still out to the side, the gun still pointed at Lauren.
“Shut up, Allan. We’ve got to do this. They came here threatening you. Get his gun, Allan. Get his gun and put it in his hand. We were defending ourselves.” Allan was paralyzed and Edie’s rage grew until she shook from head to toe. Both hands were on the gun now. “Get away.” She screamed at Lauren who scrambled toward the corner of the room. “I’ll do it!” She screeched to Allan. And she bent to rip at Eli’s jacket, bloodying her hand in the process. Finding his gun, she pulled, but it was caught in his shoulder holster. Edie pulled again and that’s when Eli, not quite dead, grabbed her ankle and sent Edie Williams crashing to the floor.
The next minutes were nothing more than a collage of color and sounds, pleas, and threats. Lauren threw herself into the fray, but the gun was spinning away from her as Edie slapped her across her shoulders. They grappled, Eli rolling away, trailing blood from what part of his body Lauren didn’t know.
“Stop! Stop!” Allan hollered.
Lauren and Edie did just that. Tangled together they heard something in his voice that told them it was time to listen. Panting, they looked up at him. The gun was in his hand. Edie threw her arm over Lauren’s chest and held her tight.
“Do it,” she commanded. “Do it now, Allan. Kill her. It’s the only way out of this mess. I’m your witness. Everyone knows what they’ve been doing. Kill her now.”
Terrorized, Lauren lay in Edie’s arms looking up at the man she had counted as family, remembering the man who had loved Allan the most.
“Allan?” she pleaded.
That’s when he made his decision. Allan Lassiter took two steps, leaned down and pressed the barrel of the gun again
st the head of the woman he knew must not survive.
She closed her eyes.
There was no one to help her now. But then, there never had been.
29
“Ms. Kingsley, was it hard to take up closing arguments against the Stewarts?” Lauren looked out on to the sea of faces. Lights blazed, microphones were shoved in front of her, people she couldn’t identify screamed questions at her. She wanted to answer each and every one of them. She’d do it truthfully. It was time people knew.
“No. I knew that case inside out. Judge Martinelli wisely did not declare a mistrial. It was time to finish this matter and, since she only gave our office a week for someone to come up to speed, I was the logical choice. I’m delighted that I played a part in their conviction.”
“Are you sorry they didn’t get the death penalty?”
Lauren looked left. A man had spoken. She didn’t see which one.
“No.”
“What about Edie Williams?”
This time it was a woman.
“What about her?”
“Do you think she deserves the death penalty if she’s convicted of killing Wilson Caufeld?”
“That’s for the jury to decide. I won’t be handling the prosecution.”
“Will you be working on the Stewart appeal?”
“No,” Lauren said quickly. “No. I’ve turned my resignation into Abram Schuster.”
The reporters went nuts. There was going to be more to this than they thought. Lauren waved her hand, smiled without humor, and started to push through the media only to change her mind. She stepped back and looked at them until they fell silent.
“I have a statement to make. I went to work for the U.S. Attorney believing that I could make a difference. I wanted to be the voice of the people. I wanted to act on the people’s behalf. I wanted to emulate a man who taught me so much. I wanted to serve the people like Wilson Caufeld. I wanted to make sure that those who threaten all of us by their actions, were taken to task for those actions.”
Lauren lowered her eyes. When she looked back up, she tried to look at each one of them in turn.
“I’m quitting today because I’ve found out that those who threaten us are not always on the outside of the system. Today I spoke to the Attorney General of the United States. I told her that the Stewart prosecution had been manipulated by the U.S. Attorney in the hopes of swaying Judge Caufeld’s opinions and rulings. I told her that I believe the FBI, and Mark Jackson in particular, was not only indirectly responsible for the murder of Wilson Caufeld but directly responsible, in conjunction with the U.S. Attorney’s office, for railroading an innocent man in order to expedite that prosecution and cover the ineptitude of that office.” Lauren hitched her briefcase. “I’m quitting, and I’m not sure that’s the right thing to do. But I hope you won’t. I hope you’ll be there reporting it all so that the people we say we represent will understand how this system works and, hopefully, do something to make sure the right people are running it.”
With that, she pushed through the crowd, losing the hangers-on about a block down. By the time she got to her car, only one young reporter was tenacious enough to follow. Microphone out, her cameraman huffing and puffing behind, the woman was there when Lauren fastened her seat belt. Lauren attended to her. Persistence, she had learned, needed a reward.
“Ms. Kingsley, Mr. Jackson, Mr. Schuster, and Mr. Lassiter have issued statements accusing you of slander. They say they are preparing civil suits. How do you feel about that?”
“Sad,” Lauren said with a grin then added, “for them.”
“Why?”
“Because I tell the truth and they don’t.”
“Did you know Mr. Lassiter’s bar ticket has been revoked?”
“Yes.”
With that, Lauren backed up and headed west. Left behind, the reporter was trying to figure out what on earth she could do with an answer as simple as that.
Lauren unwound her braids as she went and let her hair blow itself out in the wind now that she’d put that old rag top down. Wilson was gone but not forgotten. Allan was a part of her past. Edie Williams, Abram Schuster, and Mark Jackson had never meant anything to her. Not really. There was really only one thing that had ever mattered and that was the truth. And the truth was, Eli was waiting, and that was all that mattered anymore.
A Look At: Beyond Malice
Nora Royce, a sexy associate in a prestigious Los Angeles law firm, is accused of brutally murdering a partner's wife, and the legal community does not hesitate to throw her to the wolves.
With nowhere to turn, her only chance at a defense is with her estranged older sister, Amanda Cross. Amanda, armed with a tenacious spirit, no leads and no criminal defense experience, must defend her sister from what the D.A. claims is an open-and shut case. With the help of a handsome assistant-for-hire with a chip on his shoulder, this outgunned lawyer peels away the protective layers that cocoon the privileged few to reveal intentions that seem to be beyond reproach but are, in fact, beyond malice.
“Twisted with murder, intrigue, greed and romance with another shocking ending!”
AVAILABLE NOVEMBER 2020 FROM REBECCA FORSTER AND WOLFPACK PUBLISHING
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Rebecca Forster
About the Author
Born a Midwestern girl, raised in Southern California, Rebecca Forster earned her MBA and worked in major advertising agencies before she wrote her first book on a crazy dare and found her passion.
Now a USA Today and Amazon best selling author, Forster is known for her legal thrillers and police procedurals. Over three million readers have enjoyed her fast-paced tales that are known for deep characterization and never-see-it-coming endings.
An avid court watcher, she is also a hands-on researcher. Rebecca is a graduate of the DEA and ATF Citizen's academy, local police firearms programs, and is a Leaders to Sea participant who adds landing by tail hook on the USS Nimitz to her resume in search of authentic details for her books.
Rebecca has taught at the acclaimed UCLA Writers Program and various colleges and universities. She is a sought-after speaker at bar and judges' associations, philanthropic groups and has made numerous appearances on radio and television. Rebecca is also a repeat speaker at the LA Times Festival of Books. She volunteers as a patient/family advisor at Torrance Memorial Medical Center and volunteers at middle schools to bring the joy of writing to students. In her spare time, she plays competitive tennis, and travels extensively counting Albania as her number one destination.
Rebecca Forster is mother to two grown sons, and is married to a Los Angeles Superior Court judge.
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