Hunter didn’t respond.
“Clever, Hunter. Very clever.” Vandenberg raised his finger in the air. “With Dr. Mackie’s case, we saw an opportunity, and exposed it. Nothing more. We wouldn’t be doing our jobs if we didn’t pressure him to sell the company. We have to do what’s best for our client and that means getting the most money for her.”
“Setting him up for sexual assault charges is a dirty tactic.”
“We had nothing to do with the sexual assault case, however we do have the connections to make it go away. I heard Christoph King has offered ten million dollars for the sale of the company. When we’re talking about that amount of money in a divorce case, we can make things happen. And Dr. Mackie’s wife isn’t my client anyway. She belongs to one of the junior lawyers.”
“A junior lawyer that you manage.”
“Right.” Vandenberg grinned and turned back to the musicians as the trumpet player began. It was hard not to tap a foot to the performance. When the band finished their song, an original, everyone in the bar clapped in unison, some even standing and whistling their appreciation. “We’re not easing back on Dr. Mackie’s divorce case. There’s ten million on the line there.” Vandenberg turned to Hunter and finished his drink in one last gulp. “As a fellow lawyer, I’ll give you this advice—be careful were you dig. Our divorce firm is not the type of place that you should try and blackmail. We don’t take kindly to people who want to ruin us, and we’ve got a history of getting revenge on people that do.”
“I’m going to dig until I find the truth.”
“Of course you are, but you’re stepping into dangerous territory. You need to convince Dr. Mackie to sell his company, and you need to convince Stacey Fulbright to take a deal for manslaughter. That would be the best outcome for everyone…” Vandenberg placed the glass back on the bar. “Including Stacey’s children.”
Chapter 12
After another seventy-five-hour work week, Hunter stepped out of his office, rubbing his temples, and stood on the sidewalk, waiting for his ride home. The app on his phone said the car was five minutes away, but the timing was never accurate. The traffic made sure of that. The one-way traffic streamed down West Jackson Boulevard, in the Loop, a chorus of horns and engine roars. The sidewalk was wide, but busy, filled with a rush of workers looking to escape for a weekend away from the city. The last moments of sunset were sheltered by the high-rise buildings on either side of the street, and a chill in the air was setting in.
The witness list for Dr. Mackie’s sexual assault case had been updated by the prosecution and Hunter was surprised by one of the new names—Christoph King. He had come forward and made a report to the police about what he saw that day. He stated he saw the alleged victim, Miss Katherine Jennings, just after the assault occurred. Hunter didn’t believe a word of the statement. It was all too neat, and all too clean.
Waiting on the sidewalk, Hunter watched a black Mercedes sedan, with windows tinted too dark to be legal, pull over and stop in the bus only lane. Behind it was a black SUV, similar to the one that stalked Hunter’s car only days earlier. The door of the Mercedes sedan opened and Christoph King stepped out.
“Mr. Hunter.” King called out as he approached. He was dressed in a blue suit, and held himself well. He lifted his aviator sunglasses off his head and swirled them in his hand. “What a pleasant surprise on a lovely Friday evening. What a fortuitous coincidence.”
“This doesn’t look like a coincidence to me.” Hunter stood tall, towering over King. “You’re going to testify in the case against Dr. Mackie?”
“I saw what I saw. I saw Miss Jennings sobbing as she left the medical clinic.” He smiled, but it was forced. “And that’s what I wanted to talk about. I’m a man who knows how to negotiate, and I’m sure you’re also a reasonable listener. I wanted to talk about Dr. Mackie and his unfortunate situation. He seems to be in a bit of trouble, but I can assist him. I’m a helpful guy.” He laughed. His stomach shifted up and down as he did. “I have connections that can make things disappear, if you get what I mean.”
“Out of the goodness of your heart?”
“Not likely. I’m not a charity.” King looked around the street, studying the passing crowd for any prying ears. “Maybe we should go inside your office to talk?”
“No.”
“Somewhere to be?” King questioned.
“Anywhere but here with you.”
“Now, now, Hunter, I’m not here to argue with you, and I can tell you that I’m very helpful to people that help me. If you could have a quiet word with Dr. Mackie and encourage him to sell the clinic to a worthy buyer, perhaps present my name and offer, then I can make things disappear. Dr. Mackie would feel a lot less stressed if he just sold the clinic.”
“Did you set this up?”
King’s mouth hung open for a moment. “Nothing like that. I’m merely an opportunist. All I’m saying is if you help me, then I help you. A mutual acquaintance of ours has found himself in a predicament. That’s all. I’m sure there would be financial compensation worthy of your effort. But if you don’t help me, I can persuade you in other ways.”
Hunter leaned closer to King, bringing his mouth close to King’s ear. “You can’t threaten me. If you want to know how tough an opponent I can be, then you should keep pushing my buttons.”
“A tough negotiator. I respect that.” King stepped back. “I’m doing the right thing and letting you know the opportunity is there, if you desire a pleasant outcome for everyone involved. The sale of Dr. Mackie’s medical clinic would make things go away. I’m sure of it.”
Hunter looked at King’s raised hand. “Where’s your wedding ring? You were wearing it last week at the function.”
“Ah… you’re observant.” King rubbed his fingers as he put his hands down. “Well, that’s a touchy subject.”
“Going through another divorce?”
“Maybe.”
“And let me guess, Vandenberg and Wolfe Family Law Offices are handling your case.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“As soon as you became a witness in Dr. Mackie’s case, your whole world became my business. I’d imagine any divorce is worth a lot of money.”
“That depends on how good Joanne Wolfe is.” King turned and began to walk away. “All I’m saying is there’s an opportunity for Dr. Mackie to make things disappear. If you can convince the good doctor to change his mind about the clinic, you know where to reach me. I expect to hear from you soon, Hunter.”
King raised his hand in the air and rubbed his thumb and index finger together, indicating cash, as he walked back to his car.
Hunter’s ride pulled up to the curb. Hunter waited until King had stepped back into his car, staring at the car as it passed. When King’s car drove past on West Jackson, Hunter entered the waiting Uber, greeted the driver, and then checked over his shoulder. The dark SUV was waiting behind them, allowing their car to pull out into traffic. Hunter watched the car out of the rearview mirror, watching as it stayed on his tail.
The Uber driver made small talk as he drove through traffic. He was Polish, and had been in Chicago for five years. Hunter admired the Polish. They were strong, hard-working, with a no-nonsense attitude.
After a number of turns, they pulled into Lower Wacker Drive, a complicated subterranean roadway. A shortcut for local drivers, the underground artery was almost impossible for tourists to navigate. The sunlight was blocked by the road above, causing the area to be constantly damp. In some sections, the low ceiling echoed the noise of the passing traffic, leaving most drivers unable to hear the music in their own car. Dim orange lights guided the way around the forest of concrete pillars, and the signs were minimal, as were the lines on the road.
Homeless camps dotted the edges of the underground lanes. Out of the rain, wind, and snow, the concealed passageways were a popular place to stay. Most had addictions and mental health issues. This was not a place for a passing driver to stop and as
k for directions.
Lower Wacker was busy, but flowing. The driver knew to pay attention—tourists lost in the underground roads were known to make sudden and stupid decisions about where to turn. Hunter looked over his shoulder and watched as the SUV pulled closer. He couldn’t see the driver.
As the sedan picked up speed, they approached another turn. Hunter buckled his seatbelt.
The SUV came at them fast. Hard. It clipped the back corner of the Uber. The jolt jerked Hunter forward.
The sedan spun around, the lights flashing past. Hunter gripped the door, waiting for an impact. After the second spin on the greasy road, the car bumped into the wall. No major impact, and only a slight jolt.
When he realized he was ok, Hunter leaped out of the car, looking through the traffic.
The SUV waited nearby.
With adrenaline surging through him, Hunter ran towards the SUV. A car skidded next to him. Another blew their horn.
As soon as Hunter was within striking distance, the SUV squealed it’s tires and sped off. It weaved its way through the narrow streets. Hunter stood in the middle of the road, watching it disappear into the distance.
There were no license plates.
Chapter 13
After the weekend, Hunter sat at his desk and called the Uber driver about the accident. There were no cameras on Lower Wacker Drive, and no sign of an SUV hitting another car, the driver said. The cops couldn’t do anything, and there was nothing more to follow up. Just an unfortunate accident on the notorious road, the cops told the driver. Hunter knew they wouldn’t get an outcome. Hunter offered to help the driver, but the driver said he was covered by insurance.
For most of Saturday and Sunday, Hunter’s thoughts were focused on Noah Fulbright. How could he help the boy avoid his mother’s trial? His mother was doing everything she could to shield her children from the trauma of a murder trial, but the reality was about to hit her family in the face.
Stacey Fulbright had barely left the house in a week. She was scared to use the phone in case it was tapped. She barely let the children leave the house either. Carl was doing his best to hold their family together. He was trying to keep things normal around the kids, but the pressure of the justice system was tearing them apart. The tension was palpable every time Hunter called to check on them.
The more Hunter thought about Noah, the more he thought about his own upbringing. His aunt Rebecca, his father’s sister, took him in after his father’s conviction. She was emotionless, cold, and hatred filled most of her movements. She had no interest in raising Hunter, but did so out of obligation. Her own children had already left home, and she showed no interest in going around again. She barely spoke to him, never offered a hug or a healing touch, and only spoke words of hate for Alfred Hunter.
When Hunter was fifteen, as the school was cracking down on his aggressive behavior, his aunt Rebecca tried to slap him, but she could barely reach up to his jaw, and he easily dodged her attempt. She hated Alfred for the pain he brought to the Hunter family name, and it showed as she took out her frustrations on Tex. His older cousins never came to visit, trying to distance themselves from such a horrific experience. Two cousins even legally changed their surname to ‘Punter.’ The conviction destroyed his family, and any sense of belonging that he hoped for. His older brother Patrick was the only one who ever had his back, but he was at college, trying to work through his own emotions.
While his teenage years were filled with coldness, Hunter appreciated everything his aunt did for him, and often thanked her. She wasn’t interested in his praise. On the day he turned eighteen, she told him to move out. He stayed another month before moving to a college dorm. He tried to show his appreciation for her sacrifice, but she wanted to leave the past behind her. He sent flowers to his Aunt every birthday, and cards at Christmas, but he never received a response. Never even a phone call. Once her duty to her family was done, that side of the family tree was dead to her.
He hated that Noah Fulbright might have to suffer the same pain.
“Thinking?” Esther Wright entered the office with a file pressed against her chest. “That must hurt this early on a Monday morning. You haven’t even had your second coffee yet.”
“I’m always thinking.”
“You never switch off, do you?” She placed the paper files on the desk. “You know; you shouldn’t print so many paper files. The world is heating up, and chopping down all these trees is not good for the environment. And computers are a thing these days.”
“Can’t use them. They hurt my fingers.” Hunter grinned.
“You’re exaggerating.”
“115% of people exaggerate.”
“Quoting percentages now?” Esther said. “Well, you should know that I always give 100% at work. 98% from Monday to Thursday, and 2% on Fridays.”
Hunter smiled. He reached forward and took one of the files.
“We’ve got the depositions this week for Dr. Mackie’s case.” Esther sat down. “It all starts tomorrow. There may be a chance that one of the witnesses slips up.”
“The prosecution will have prepared them well, and I don’t expect any surprises, but this is still important. It’ll give us an insight into how they’re going to present the case and provide the groundwork for us to move forward. If we get nothing, then Dr. Mackie has to start to seriously consider a deal.”
A knock at the door caught their attention.
“Mr. Hunter?” A man leaned in the door. “The name’s John C. Clarke, Clarke with an ‘e.’”
“John. Welcome.” Hunter looked at his watch. “We weren’t expecting you for another twenty-five minutes.”
“I’m an early type of guy.” John C. Clarke stepped into the office, and offered his hand to Hunter, before turning to Esther and shaking her hand. “And you must be Esther. We spoke on the phone earlier. You’re as beautiful as you sound.”
“Lovely to meet you.” Esther smiled at his easy charm.
“Please, sit down.” Hunter pointed to the chair opposite the desk. “Esther and I were just discussing another case, but we’ll switch gears to this one. You don’t mind if Esther stays during the meeting?”
“Not at all.” Clarke smiled. “I would love that.”
John C. Clarke’s posture was perfect—straight back, relaxed shoulders, head held high. He was well groomed, and a strong smell of woody cologne followed him. His hair was gray, eyes were blue, and his smile was broad.
“I’ve got the forms over here for the transfer of the case.” Hunter picked up the forms from the side of his desk. “Everything has been prepared. All you have to do is sign the forms and take it to the court.”
“Thank you.” Clarke looked at the forms. “And, as we discussed on the phone, I’m happy for you to continue as second chair. I have no ego in regards to this. The best thing for the client is the best outcome, and I could use your expertise. You’ll see things that I won’t.”
“Agreed.” Hunter nodded. “It’s been years since I’ve been second chair, but I’m determined to see Stacey get off this charge. Whatever you need to push this case forward, let me know. I have a few other cases going, but I’ll make the time for Stacey.”
“What are your first thoughts then? Do you think she killed Joe Fielding?” Clarke crossed one leg over the other. “It all seems a bit strange to me.”
“Stabbed a private investigator in a parking lot late at night? No. I don’t think so.” Hunter shook his head. “My first reaction was no, and the further the case has gone, the more that notion has been strengthened. I can’t see her losing control and killing this guy. And if she did it, she wouldn’t have left the murder weapon next to his body.”
“Although she does have an angry streak. That’s well known.” Esther added. “The prosecution is going to play on that and tell the jury about her past.”
“No doubt. I read about the man she shoved when she was in a divorce settlement meeting. She said the man approached her and then threatened her,
but he still tried to press charges. A report was filed but nothing became of it. I’m sure he’ll testify against her.” Clarke said. “It was interesting that the cops found codeine and Valium in her office. She’d admitted previously to having blackouts while taking those medicines to control her stress levels. She could’ve lost control and not remembered murdering Joe Fielding. And if that’s true, the prosecution is going to throw that at us during the trial.”
Hunter agreed. “The prosecution’s going to state she was stressed, took her medications, left the office, and walked into the parking lot in a daze. She found Joe Fielding in the parking lot, perhaps trying to blackmail her, and then she lost control and stabbed him five times. Nobody would’ve heard anything and there’s no cameras. She gets into a panic, and drives away pretending nothing happened. They have her walking into the parking lot at 11:15pm and leaving ten minutes later. No footage inside the lot.”
“The placement of cameras is convenient, isn’t it?” Clarke rested his hands on his thigh. “If there was a camera inside the parking lot, we could solve this case today. Have we looked into any dash-cams from other cars in the lot?”
“We’ve looked and there’s nothing. Stacey’s been using the same parking lot for five years and was well aware of the location of the surveillance cameras. That’s what the prosecution will say, and it’s a strong argument.” Hunter said. “They can place her there, make the connection to Fielding, present a motive, and then the jury will be easily won over by the murder weapon. It has her fingerprints on it.” Hunter opened one of the files. “If we can figure out what Fielding was working on; we can figure out what he was doing near her office.”
“That’s the key, isn’t it? What was Joe Fielding doing there?” Clarke stated. “Do you have anything on that?”
“We do.” Esther said, reaching for another file off Hunter’s desk to hand over to Clarke. “Although Fielding was a freelance private investigator, he was doing a lot of work for Vandenberg and Wolfe Family Law Firm. His name has come up in a lot of their investigations, and he’s clearly connected to them.”
Saving Justice Page 7
