by Brook Wilder
Chapter 6
“Olivia,” Jon started with a sigh, “I know how frustrating this has been. I didn’t hear everything you two said, but I heard enough to know that you have your work cut out for you. I knew this case would be tough when I assigned it to you, but I figured you’d at least be able to rise to the challenge.”
“He won’t give me anything! Every time I get close to a name or anything else that might help us, he just gives his ‘I don’t snitch’ line and shuts his mouth. He keeps telling me he’s innocent, but I’ve yet to find anything that supports his claim. What am I supposed to do, Jon?”
“I know, I know, but we need to try with this one. I’ve been working for decades to better the city’s relationship with the biker community. They think the whole system is against them, and I’ve seen thousands of cases that could have ended in an acquittal, but instead ended with a jury sentencing a man just because he looked like a criminal. If you give up on Emmett now, that will just reconfirm all of their fears and innocent men will continue to go to jail.”
We sat there in the office for a few moments just staring at each other. What he said was more or less true. While the bikers in this town were far from saints, most of them stayed under the radar and kept their business pretty well hidden. They were always the scapegoats, though, when anything bad happened in the Black Rock. In fact, until Emmett confirmed it, we had no evidence that it was one of the Martyrs that had killed Wildcard. He was only arrested because he looked like the guy caught on tape. Even if there’d been no video evidence at all, I’m sure we would all just assume a biker had done it. I was falling into the same prejudices as the rest of this town, and that was starting to bother me.
“Look. I know you want out of Black Rock,” Jon said quietly, “so I’m willing to offer you a one-time only deal against my better judgment. If you win this case and Emmett is acquitted of all charges, I’ll give you the recommendation you want. I know a couple of firms in Phoenix and Tucson that might be willing to take in a young lawyer. It’ll still be the desert, but large cities like those will be a better springboard for you.”
I stared at Jon in disbelief. This case could be my ticket out of this tired old town! I tried not to get too excited, though, as I thought about the caveat his promise implied.
“What if I take the case and don’t win?” I asked.
“I’m not about to fire you for losing an impossible case, Olivia. You can still try to leave without my recommendation and I won’t ask any questions. I doubt you’ll make it, though. It’ll look suspicious if you leave a firm like that.”
“Fine. I’ll take your deal and try to win, at least.”
“Great, let me just call Emmett back in, and I’ll get out of your hair.”
I watched as Jon walked to the door and stuck his head out. Despite the impossible goal he just set for me, I was grateful he hadn’t let me quit on Emmett.
“Thank you for waiting, Mr. Cruz,” he said when Emmett had appeared by the door again. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for the difficulty you’ve been having with your daughter. If it’s any consolation to you, I’m more than willing to work pro-bono to ensure your visitation rights.”
“Pro-bono?” Emmett asked, looking at me in confusion. I sighed. For all of Jon’s intelligence, he never quite grasped the fact that he tended to talk way over people’s heads.
“It means he’s willing to work for free,” I said with a small grin.
“Well, thank you, Mr. Fulbright. I appreciate it.”
“Please, Mr. Cruz, either Jon or Jonathon. I do hate unnecessary formality. Allow me to walk you out. I’m sure Olivia has a lot to think about. We’ll be in touch in the near future.”
The two men walked down the hall toward the exit and I had to stifle a giggle at the comical pair they made. Jon was a slight man and Emmett looked as if he could crush him with one hand. Still, here they were, walking and chatting like old friends. I sighed and started to pack up my things to leave for the weekend. I debated for a minute before impulsively shoving Emmett’s case file in my bag too. I’d always had a bad habit of bringing work home with me, and it didn’t seem like I was going to change my ways anytime soon.
Chapter 7
I woke up the next day feeling about as restless as I had expected. My body hummed as I sipped my coffee and thought over my plan of attack. Going into the office would be useless. I’d done about everything I could hope to accomplish there over the past few days, and re-reading the case paperwork wouldn’t get me anywhere. It was time to actually get up and get the information I wanted myself. Where would I find it, though? Emmett was a dead end right now until I figured out a way to put enough pressure on him to spill the beans. Suddenly, it came to me. It was time to visit the diner and talk to Craig and Ginger. Their official statements had been largely useless, but maybe I could get them to tell me something the police had missed.
After I had showered and gotten dressed, I hopped in my truck and coaxed it down the street towards the Diner. It sat out on the edge of town near the highway, with a giant, arrow-shaped neon sign that said ‘Eat Here!’. The building itself was a long, two-storied rectangle with windows covering three of its sides on the ground floor. The blinds were drawn, but I could still picture the long, bar counter top and stools that took up the middle of the restaurant.
I parked my car next to what I hoped was the Rogers’s car and hopped out. The crime scene tape still covered the main entrance and a quick look through the glass door told me the only thing alert inside were the security cameras. After a second of snooping around the building and, I walked up the wooden staircase at the back of the restaurant. I was hoping that Craig and Ginger would be in their apartment, otherwise, I’d wasted gas driving out here. As soon as I knocked, rustling on the other side of the door told me my trip wasn’t about to be a total loss.
“One moment!” a male voice called from within. A few minutes later, the door opened to reveal Craig. “Hello, dear! What brings a pretty girl like you around to my doorstep?”
“Hello, Mr. Rogers,” I said with a smile. “My name’s Olivia, and I’m the defense attorney assigned to the case involving the murder in your diner. I was wondering if I could speak to you and your wife a moment if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Oh, no trouble at all, dear. Come on in,” he said, opening the door wider. “Ginger and I are more than willing to answer any questions you have. Lord knows we’ve been talking about what happened for ages now.”
“I’ll probably ask a lot of the same things the police did,” I said as I entered the apartment, “but I’m hoping there might be something they missed or didn’t put in the finalized reports.”
“Of course, we’ll certainly do our best,” he said as he turned down the hall. “Ginger, darling, we have a guest who’d like to speak to both of us!”
“One minute, love,” said a feminine voice from the back of the apartment.
Craig gestured toward the couch and I sat, looking around the tidy apartment. The furniture was nice, if a little dated, but it went well with the beige shag carpet. Pictures covered the walls, showing the older couple in various stages of their lives as well as what I assumed were their children and grandchildren. What really caught my eye was the large print of the two of them in their wedding attire. Ginger faced the camera, looking like the epitome of grace and glamor, while Craig gazed lovingly at his wife. My eyes snapped to the older, but still quite handsome, Craig as he entered the living room with a tray of coffee cups in hand.
“I brewed some fresh coffee, but we also have tea or soda if that suits you better,” he said as he set the tray down on the low table in front of me.
“Coffee works for me,” I said, eagerly pouring a cup.
“Fantastic. Ginger should only be a few more moments. She always fusses about her looks when guests come by.”
“No worries. I’m the one who interrupted your morning.”
Just then, Ginger walked into the room fr
om the hallway. She still looked like the woman in the wedding photo, albeit a little more mature, and the look on Craig’s face when he saw her made it seem like they’d just gotten married last night instead of decades ago.
“Why hello, dear. My name’s Ginger,” she said, offering a handshake. “Craig told me you wanted to ask some questions?”
After some gentle probing, they recounted the whole morning as we sipped coffee, starting from when Craig heard the commotion downstairs right up to when the police showed up. So far, they didn’t share anything that I hadn’t already read a thousand times over in their statements and my hope of finding something new was starting to fall.
“Is there anything else you remember about the shooter?” I asked.
“It was all so quick,” Ginger replied. “But there is one thing I don’t think I’ll ever forget. He had such distinct, glowing green eyes.”
“I saw them too,” Craig said as he nodded. “I don’t remember too much else about his face, but those eyes were unforgettable.”
“You’re sure they were green, not blue?” I asked.
“Quite sure,” Ginger said grimly. “They looked like little emeralds the way they sparkled.”
That was certainly interesting. If what they said was true, it was now certainly plausible that Emmett didn’t commit the crime. I needed something more to go on than that, though. The prosecutors would be too quick to denounce this evidence as a mistake on the Rogers’s part.
“Would it be possible to look at the security footage from that night?” I asked, thinking back to the cameras I saw in the diner. “I know the police have copies, but they’re still processing them as evidence. It could be weeks before I can see them.”
“Certainly,” Craig said as he stood from his chair. “I’m afraid we don’t have much, we gave most of the tapes to the police and they didn’t let us keep copies. Lucky for you, there was copy we forgot to give them. I keep meaning to run it down to the station, but this old brain of mine isn’t as sharp as it used to be.”
It took only a moment for Craig to turn on the ancient television and start the tape. The picture was gray and grainy, but I clearly saw Wildcard as he puttered around the kitchen preparing for the breakfast service. It was so surreal to watch this wiry little man go about his business, not knowing that these were the last few minutes of his life.
“Craig nagged me for a solid week after we installed those cameras,” Ginger said with a grin, “We’d had one too many break-ins this year for my taste, but Craig insisted that it was a waste of money. We’re both glad we have them now, though.”
It wasn’t until Wildcard ducked into the walk-in freezer that a second man walked into the frame. I could see why the police had immediately arrested Emmett. Despite the low quality of the recording, the man on the video looked exactly like him. The gunman walked over to the open freezer door and raised his arm and shot. There wasn’t any audio with the recording, but I could only imagine the bang of the gun and the thump as Wildcard’s body hit the floor. The man who looked like Emmett stood there for a moment, then darted out the back door. A second later, Craig entered the frame and the video froze.
I sat in silence, taking in what I’d just witnessed. A thought gnawed at the back of my mind. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something about the gunman seemed wrong.
“Can I have the remote?” I asked. Craig handed it over and I rewound the tape to when the man was standing in front of the freezer. I waited until he raised his arm, then quickly hit pause. I stared at the screen, scrutinizing the image. As my gaze landed on the shooter's outstretched arm, it was like a bolt of lightning hit me.
“There, look!” I yelled, jumping to my feet. Both Craig and Ginger stared at me with wide eyes.
“What is it, dear?” Ginger said warily.
“Don’t you see it? This guy has a tattoo on his arm! An eagle, right there on his bicep!”
“I see it now, but what difference does that make? Last I heard they already arrested the guy,” Craig said. In my excitement, I was already heading toward the door. There was far too much to explain to them, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep this news to myself much longer.
“I’m sorry to rush out of here, especially since you both have been nothing but welcoming to me. You’ve helped me and my case quite a lot today!”
“You’re welcome, dear. Thank you for stopping by!” Ginger called as I ran out the door and down the steps.
I hopped into my car, and it must have sensed my excitement as it roared to life when I turned the ignition. I knew exactly where I needed to go next, and, thankfully, he’d left his address at the office yesterday.
Chapter 8
I navigated my truck carefully down the narrow road while craning my neck to scan the numbers on the passing mailboxes. The drive should have only taken minutes, but it took much longer for me to find the housing development where Emmett lived. It was less a neighborhood and more of a collection of trailers and prefabricated housing that sat off a dirt road at the edge of town. I’d come down that road on a hunch, and it wasn’t until I saw the razor wire and modified Harleys that I knew I was in the right spot. At first glance, the place looked deserted but every now and then I caught a pair of eyes looking out from the dark windows. The Devil’s Martyrs had already made it clear that visitors were unwelcome, and I stuck out like a sore thumb.
Finally, I found Emmett’s house, a double-wide trailer that actually looked a lot nicer than the other places I’d passed. Most of the trailers had looked slapped together and run down, but it looked like Emmett took at least a small amount of pride in his home. I parked my car next to his bike and hopped out. I glanced over at the trailer next door and briefly saw a face in the window before the blinds snapped shut. I looked back to Emmett’s front door and it suddenly seemed like it was a mile away. The rational part of me wanted to hop right back into my car and drive away, but I squared my shoulders and marched forward. When I reached the front door, I took a deep breath before knocking. It felt like an eternity before I finally heard the shuffle of his footsteps and the rattle of the dead bolt.
“Yeah? Who is it?” he growled as he cracked the door open.
“Hey, Emmett! It’s me, Olivia! Can I come in?”
“Olivia! What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed as he opened the door and pulled me in. He poked his head out the door and glanced around with a worried look on his face before snapping it shut.
“I already know that you all don’t like visitors, but I have some great news about the case!”
“You should have called me instead of coming out here,” he said grimly. I looked around in surprise. I had expected a typical bachelor house, but, from what I could see, Emmett kept things pretty tidy. The decorations were sparse and the furniture was mismatched, but everything was clean and organized. As we passed the kitchen, I noticed that there wasn’t a single dish in the sink. Once we entered the living room, he offered me a seat on a worn looking leather sofa and I spotted what I assumed was a photo of Lizzy. She looked adorable with her wide grin and curly, blond pigtails. It made my heart sink, knowing that he was still so far away from seeing his daughter again.
“I know, but I’m just too excited,” I said as he sat in a recliner opposite me. “I talked to the couple who owns the diner this morning and found out something that could prove your innocence.”
“Olivia, you can’t come out here, especially dressed like that. You could have gotten yourself killed!”
“Dressed like what?” I asked. I was wearing jeans and a sweater over a button up shirt, and my hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. It might have been a little Ivy League for the area, but it wasn’t like I’d shown up to his door in a suit and heels.
“I know this is your idea of casual, but you still look like a lawyer. I’ve told you a thousand times how bikers feel about lawyers.”
“Ok, fine. I shouldn’t have come out here, but here I am anyway. All I want is to ask a couple
of questions, and then I’ll leave.”
“Fine. What’d you find out?”
“First I asked both Craig and Ginger, the owners, if they remembered anything about the guy who shot Wildcard. All they could remember was that the man had glowing green eyes. That didn’t make sense to me, considering you clearly have blue eyes. I thought maybe they’d made a mistake, so I asked if they had any security footage. They did, and I noticed the most amazing thing.”
“What was it?” he asked. He had a wary look on his face like he already knew what I was about to say.
“Do you know anyone in the gang with an eagle tattoo on his right bicep?” I asked, carefully watching his face. His expression immediately shut down, his mouth stonily clamped shut and eyes as wide as saucers. He didn’t answer me, and I wasn’t surprised. The thing was, I couldn’t tell if his silence was because this fact would incriminate him or someone else.
