by Dave Daren
“I’ll arrange for an officer to meet him there,” Adams groused.
“Alright.” Goldberg nodded. “Get your modified court date from Shelby, and I’ll see you then.”
The three of us walked out of his chambers and stopped at his secretary’s desk for the information. Then Adams headed straight for the elevator, and Rossi and I looked at each other and seemed to have a silent agreement to take the stairs.
As we walked down the steps from the fourth floor in silence, I sent a text to Hank asking him to meet us at the front door.
When we stepped into the sunshine, the large bodyguard stood a few feet from the door and still managed to look like he was ready to break it down.
“Rossi, glad to see you’re, ah, alive, at least,” Hank murmured.
“He needs to be taken to the hospital for a medical evaluation and evidence collection,” I told him. “Can you arrange for that?”
“Of course.” Hank pulled his phone from his pocket and started dialing.
“Shit, I forgot my legal pad in the courtroom,” I grumbled. “Stay with Hank. I’ll be back in a second.”
I hurried back through security and took the elevator back to the second floor. I crept up to the courtroom door to make sure court hadn’t returned to session before I walked inside.
“You’re just giving him break after break!” Adams wagged his finger at Goldberg, who sat on the bench with his arms crossed over his chest.
“I’m being honest and fair,” the judge shot back. “It’s kind of my job.”
“Not honest with yourself!” Adams spat out. “You know he’s a criminal, and you’re just letting him walk the streets as though--”
“So, ex-parte is beneath me but not you?” I interjected with a smirk as I strode through the empty gallery to the defense table and grabbed my notepad. “I forgot this, but it seems I returned just in time.”
“Don’t be a fool, Morgan,” Adams sneered. “We’re not talking about your client, but you know what they say about a shoe that fits.”
“No, Mr. Morgan is right,” Goldberg said with a trembling frown. “I’ll recuse myself immediately.”
“And give the prosecutor exactly what he wants?” I raised my eyebrows. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Your Honor. He’s only pissed because you aren’t treating my client like dirt, even though Mr. Rossi has yet to be convicted of anything except a traffic ticket a dozen years ago.”
“While I appreciate your understanding, I must--” Goldberg argued.
“Yes, you must,” Adams agreed.
“Then you must also,” I pointed out. “You initiated the ex-parte communication, right, Counselor?”
Adams froze for a moment before he shook his head.
“No, I simply came back in to, ah, retrieve my pen,” he faltered as he produced a pen from his pocket.
“Oh, my God,” I laughed. “Did you really try that? You were already yelling at him when I walked in. Just accept it, Adams. Either both of you recuse yourselves, or we continue with business as usual. Take your pick.”
I hoped fervently the DA didn’t call my bluff and recuse himself, but he seemed to be thinking hard about what to do. He obviously wanted to be the one who put Rossi behind bars permanently, but he knew he wouldn’t have any advantages with Goldberg on the bench. I just had to prey on his ego, so I could keep the judge who had been decidedly neutral throughout the whole case.
“If you’re willing to look past a momentary lapse of judgment, then I’ll do the same,” Adams finally declared. “Judge Goldberg and I can stay on the case. It would be too much work to reassign it to one of my ADAs anyway.”
“Why’s that?” I smiled sardonically. “The mounting piles of evidence you have would be too much to go through?”
Adams pressed his mouth into a thin line before he picked up his briefcase and nodded to Goldberg. He strode toward the door with one last quick glance over his shoulder, and I knew if he could take the opportunity to accuse me of ex-parte again, he would.
I had to get out of the courtroom before that happened.
“Mr. Morgan, are you sure--” the judge started.
I waved my hand to stop him and made a motion of a zipper over my mouth. He nodded and waited for me to step back from the bench.
Goldberg stayed silent as I tossed my legal pad into my briefcase, and the closing click echoed through the nearly empty courtroom. I walked out without another word, though I offered a consoling smile to the judge before I let the door close behind me.
Adams was nowhere to be found, but I didn’t trust the bastard as far as I could throw him. I continued down to the first floor and out the doors to where Hank and Rossi still stood on the sidewalk.
“Did you find him a ride?” I asked.
“Yes,” Hank confirmed. “Joey is on his way, but it will be a few minutes. Did you get what you needed?”
“Yeah, and then some,” I scoffed. “Adams knows he doesn’t have this case in the bag, so he’s trying to play dirty.”
“Do I need to have another chat with him?” Hank’s expression grew dark, and something told me he was definitely already a made man.
“No, thanks.” I shook my head. “I’ll handle him in the courtroom. It’s kind of fun making him look like a buffoon.”
“I did enjoy watching him in the judge’s chambers,” Rossi remarked with a sly smile. “He was squirming like a fish on a hook.”
“Yes, he was,” I agreed and grinned. “He was pretty surprised when you called me. How did you manage to get away?”
“I was messing with the rope since last night,” he explained. “Once they left me for their lunch break, I finished loosening it enough to pull my arm out. Then I untied all of them and bolted out a window.”
“Bolted out as in jumped out?” I looked down at his tattered, bloody shirt. “Is that where all the cuts came from?”
“Some of them,” he acknowledged with a nod. “Most of the day yesterday, they were beating up on me. No fists, which I expected, but they used a box blade instead.”
“Did they want information from you or something?” I pressed.
“No, they barely talked to me.” Rossi shrugged and then winced in pain. “I don’t really know what the point was.”
“Did they talk to each other?” I wondered.
“Yeah, but not in English or Italian,” he answered. “Or Russian. I know a couple languages, but I didn’t know that one.”
“Interesting,” I mused. “Mr. Lamon will want to know all of this, too, so let me talk to him before you talk to the cops at the hospital.”
“Yeah, I know the drill,” Rossi agreed.
“There’s Joey.” Hank pointed to a sleek pearl-colored Chrysler 300 that pulled up to the curb with its hazard lights on.
Hank and I walked Rossi to the vehicle and gently helped him inside. Joey, a young Italian man in his late teens, offered a nod before he pulled into traffic and headed for the hospital.
“I guess I better loop Anthony in,” I murmured and pulled out my phone.
Then I froze.
I hadn’t felt the vibration of a text, but seeing the message from an unknown number made my blood run cold.
Drop the Rossi case or your pretty little lawyer girl will be the next one tied to a chair and cut to pieces.
Chapter 13
“What the hell?” I muttered as I read the text over and over.
“You okay, boss?” Hank asked and leaned closer to read my expression. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“I just got this.” I flipped the phone around to hand it to him.
“Bastards,” the big man thundered as his eyes scanned over the message. “I don’t recognize this number. Do you?”
“No,” I murmured and shook my head. “I don’t even know that area code. Who would threaten Liz? I don’t want her dragged into this.”
But that was exactly what I’d done when I agreed to let her be my co-counsel, and even though my brain argued
that she’d insisted on helping, it didn’t make me feel any better. I was the reason she was anywhere near the mob, Rossi, and whoever was worried about me working this case. And if that were true, then I would be the one who would get her out of it as well.
“Mr. Lamon needs to see this now,” Hank ordered.
“Oh, uh, right,” I mumbled as I took a screenshot. “I’ll send it to him now.”
I had barely hit send when my phone buzzed in my hand with Anthony’s call.
“Did you just get that?” he demanded.
“Yeah, I figured you’d want to see it,” I answered, and I still felt somewhat dazed. “I’ve never had anyone threaten someone I care about before. How do you handle this?”
“Well, I could tell you how I handle these things, but I’m afraid you’d frown upon that option, Counselor,” Anthony said with a twinge of amusement and frustration in his voice. “Have you talked to Liz?”
“Not yet,” I said and frowned. “Should I warn her? I don’t want her to freak out.”
“Let her know I’m sending a shadow her way,” he replied in a low voice. “I know she won’t like it, and I’m sorry, but we can’t leave her at risk.”
“I agree,” I murmured. “But now, we have to figure out who sent this.”
“I’m on it,” Anthony huffed. “Though I’d wager it’s a burner.”
“Me, too,” I agreed and furrowed my brow. “So, who is it that’s getting worried about this case? The DA? The cops?”
“Could be either one,” he mused. “They’ll both look stupid when you shred their evidence to pieces in court.”
“They hardly have any,” I chuckled. “It won’t be too hard. My money’s on Adams. He’s pretty invested in this case, judging by the way he’s tried to corner me a few times.”
“I can go talk to him again,” Hank offered with a scowl.
“Not yet,” Anthony cut in. “Does Rossi have any ideas?”
“Joey already took him to the hospital,” I said and continued before his anger boiled over. “Judge’s orders, I swear, but he told us a few things about his ordeal before he left. He said the guys who took him didn’t even want anything from him. They just beat him up and then talked to each other in a foreign language.”
“Serbian?” my client wondered. “That’s one Rossi doesn’t know yet.”
“That was my thought,” I concurred. “Maybe we should let him listen to some Serbian recordings and see if anything sounds familiar.”
“I’ll have Joey do that once the hospital exam is over,” Hank said as he pulled out his phone and began a text.
“Good call.” I nodded and relayed the plan to Anthony. “If Rossi says it sounds familiar, what do we do then?”
“You don’t do anything,” Anthony grunted. “I’ll handle it.”
I opened my mouth and closed it without arguing. I’d fought many of these battles with the younger Febbo, and I knew I had to be careful which hill I chose to die on. This was not the one to pick.
“Alright,” I finally said. “We’ll play it by ear for now.”
My client hung up without another word, and I started to tuck my phone back into my pocket when it rang again.
The caller ID said it was the Manhattan Precinct, and I cursed under my breath before I answered.
“Hunter Morgan,” I said in my professional attorney voice.
“Mr. Morgan, nice to talk to you again.” The Boston accent of Detective Toscani assaulted my ear drums, and I groaned inwardly.
“I’m sure it is,” I retorted. “What can I do for you, Detective?”
“Oh, no,” he chuckled. “I’m calling to tell you what I’m doing for you. I got Mr. Rossi’s case on my desk. Looks like I’ll be handling his alleged kidnapping.”
“Shouldn’t a kidnapping be for Major Case?” I grunted.
“Oh, sure, if this was a bigger precinct, we’d have both,” he agreed with an amused tone. “But lucky for you, I’m on the Precinct Detective Squad, so I work many different crimes in the borough. I have a lot of experience, which I’m sure our victim will appreciate.”
“A couple days ago, he was your suspect,” I spat out. “You can’t possibly be the best choice for investigating his kidnapping.”
“Well, I requested it,” Toscani laughed. “I need to know how his current, ah, situation may reflect on our original case. I have a vested interest, you see.”
“It sounds more like a conflict of interest to me,” I said under my breath.
“What was that, Counselor?” he asked. “You don’t want the most experienced detective in Manhattan to help figure out who allegedly kidnapped your client?”
“I’m sure you’ll be using all your experience on his case, Detective,” I hissed. “Have a good day.”
I hung up even though Toscani was still chortling, and Hank watched me with a dark cloud in his eyes.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“The same detective who arrested Rossi took the assignment to investigate who kidnapped him,” I explained as I clenched my fists in frustration. “He won’t even try to figure this out, I guarantee it. We have to get someone else on the case.”
“They have bosses, right?” Hank pointed out. “Can’t you call his boss?”
“Flores wouldn’t help me,” I mused, but the bodyguard had a point. “But I bet I can call someone at the precinct.”
My blood pumped quickly as I dialed the number for the Manhattan precinct where I’d just rescued my client from his last interrogation.
“Twenty-third,” a gruff voice answered the phone.
“Good afternoon, sir,” I greeted the man on the phone. “Could I speak with the desk sergeant on duty?”
“One sec.” A beep sounded in my ear before another voice picked up.
“Sergeant O’Connor,” the desk sergeant answered.
“Sergeant, my name is Hunter Morgan,” I began. “My client is Gervasio Rossi. Do you recognize that name?”
“Picked him up for assault a few days ago,” he grumbled. “What about it?”
“Well, he was also a victim of kidnapping and false imprisonment,” I explained. “The situation was discovered today, and he’s currently at the hospital undergoing a medical examination per Judge Goldberg’s ordets. Does that ring any bells?”
“Not that I’m aware of, Counselor,” O’Connor murmured. “I just came on shift about thirty minutes ago. I’m still looking through the new cases.”
“Fair enough,” I said easily. “His case has already been assigned, which is why I’m calling you. It was assigned to Detective Toscani who arrested him for the alleged assault.”
“I think I can see where this is going,” the sergeant sighed. “Why is Toscani working it?”
“He said he requested it,” I continued. “I’m sure you can agree this is a clear case of conflict of interest for Detective Toscani, and I’d like to formally request a new detective for my client’s kidnapping case.”
“I’ll start the paperwork now, Counselor,” O’Connor agreed. “I’m not sure why Toscani requested it or why the previous desk sergeant honored his request, but that’s not how we do things at the twenty-third precinct. I apologize for the situation your client was put in.”
I was taken aback by the sergeant’s kindness and genuine concern for Rossi’s situation. He hadn’t gotten many breaks since Toscani had picked him up, but it was nice to know some officers still cared about making sure everyone was treated fairly.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” I said earnestly. “You’ve been a great help. When will the new detective contact Mr. Rossi?”
“I should have a reassignment within the hour,” he answered, and I heard the shuffle of papers in the background. “I’m already done with the request, so it will merely be figuring out who is the most available.”
“Fantastic.” I grinned at Hank. “Could you please have the detective contact me directly? My client is likely going to be in the exam for a while, due to his injuries and th
e evidence collection.”
“Yeah, let me get your number.” O’Connor took down my phone number and ended the call.
“That was easy,” Hank observed.
“Yeah, I’m almost concerned with how easy it was,” I said and furrowed my brow. “I don’t know. That sergeant seemed pretty annoyed Toscani had the case, and he made sure I knew their precinct doesn’t normally allow something like that.”
“Maybe they’re not all bad,” the big bodyguard laughed.
“Good luck convincing Anthony of that,” I muttered and rolled my eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”
Hank’s laugh echoed around the block as I walked toward my Mercedes. I fired up the turbo engine and coasted into Manhattan traffic before I moseyed my way onto the LIE and headed for Floral Park. It was an easy drive in the middle of the afternoon, and I rolled my windows down to enjoy the cool breeze. It was getting close to winter, and the further I traveled on Long Island, the crisper the air was that flowed into my car.
In less than an hour, I’d made it home, peeled off my suit, and yanked on comfier clothes to sit down with my papers. I obviously didn’t get a chance to file any motions today, but I had a good chance to go over what else I could need since we’d gotten additional information about the kidnappers.
I had my suspicions about the Serbians and DA Adams, but there wasn’t much I could do without more proof. I couldn’t push to get him off the case without any hard evidence to show he was compromised, and being the DA gave him a lot more power in the courtroom. He wasn’t some ADA schmuck that the DA could swap out for another.
After a while, my phone buzzed on my desk, and I answered when I saw the Manhattan Precinct on the caller ID.
“Mr. Morgan?” a young woman’s voice asked.
“Yes, that’s me,” I confirmed.
“This is Detective Keziah Gage,” she said with more confidence. “I’ve been assigned to the kidnapping and assault of Gervasio Rossi, and Sergeant O’Connor said you’re his attorney. Is that correct?”
“Yes, thank you for taking on his case,” I replied as I leaned back in my chair. “I had some concerns with the previous detective, but I’m confident you’ll be more proactive in solving who did this to Mr. Rossi.”
