by J. E. Taylor
“If I find anything else in your office, I’ll bring it by,” Jason said and stepped into the hallway with a wave.
“Thanks.” Carolyn closed the door, waiting, holding her breath, listening for the ding of the elevator. When it came and she was sure Jason was no longer within earshot, she let out a loud scream of frustration, which morphed into a string of curses that would make a sailor blush.
Once she stopped shaking and got control of her anger, she crossed to the kitchen and fished the six-pack from the refrigerator. Carolyn cracked open the first beer and stared at the boxes on the table. With the bitter taste of beer coating her throat, she crossed and pulled out the copy of the file she had Jason make, spreading the contents on the table. She’d like nothing more than to annihilate Jim in court on this one.
Sighing, Carolyn flipped the file closed. If she was going to take this case, she needed to contact her friend over at child services and get them to request her instead of the public defender and that could be tricky. Anton was a minor, so he couldn’t make the request and she couldn’t approach him on the matter without bringing down a shit-storm.
She rubbed her eyes and scanned the boxes again, wondering just how pissed Randy was going to be when she unloaded the circumstances surrounding her termination. Instead of worrying over what Randy would do, Carolyn opted for action and reached for the phone.
She dialed the familiar number. “Diane McKay, please,” she said when the operator picked up.
“Diane McKay speaking.”
“Hi, Diane, it’s Carolyn Hastings. I’m calling about the Anton Harlon case.”
Silence, followed by a sigh. “I understand the district attorney is taking this case on himself.”
“That’s what I hear as well. I’m wondering if Anton has the right defense lined up.”
More silence and Carolyn imagined the confused expression gracing Diane’s face.
“Someone’s been assigned from the public defender’s office.”
“I’m aware of that. What I’m trying to say is do you think he’d be better off with someone like me representing him?”
Coughing filled the line and Carolyn had to staunch a laugh. Poor Diane must have swallowed her ever present diet Coke wrong, and Carolyn wondered if she sprayed a mouthful all over the cluster of photos on her desk.
“Did you say you want to represent Anton?” Diane’s raspy voice filled the line.
“If Sean thinks it’s too much for him to handle, yes, I’d be willing to represent Anton.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” While Carolyn would have loved to jump on the gossip train, she decided to leave the subject alone.
“And you want to break yourself in on your first case opposite Jim?”
“I can’t think of anything better right now, besides, he’s looking to try this kid as an adult. I don’t agree with him on that and I think this child needs someone on his side. Don’t you?”
Silence.
“Diane, you know my record. You know I’ve never lost a case.”
“Yes, but you’ve never been on a defense team.”
“No, but I’ve got enough ammunition on paper to create reasonable doubt and prove Anton’s actions fall under temporary insanity. Do you know how Sean is planning to handle the case?”
“I’m not sure. Let me talk with Sean and I’ll get back to you.”
“Thanks Diane,” Carolyn said and closed the cell phone. She settled back on the couch and waited for Diane to make a decision.
Chapter 32
Her cell rang, shattering the silence and Carolyn glanced at the number. She expected more time to pass before a decision was made, but it had been less than an hour and she didn’t know what to make of that. She flipped the phone open. “What’s the verdict?” she asked.
“Sean said he’s already overloaded and if you want the case, it’s yours.”
Carolyn smiled. “Yes, I want it. When can I meet with Anton?”
“I can set something up for first thing in the morning for you.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then,” Carolyn said and hung up. She peeled off her suit jacket and headed toward the refrigerator, grabbing another beer, this time in celebration to her new calling.
Defense attorney.
This case would be a challenge. There was no doubt Anton killed his uncle, but the circumstances leading up to the murder were enough to make any sane adult snap, never mind a child, and she hoped the jury would see what she saw. With a smile, she stretched out on the couch to catch a nap before Randy arrived and she’d have to deal with that unpleasant confrontation.
The shrill ring of her cell phone brushed the start of a pleasant dream away like a cobweb snagged in the wind. She blinked and dug into her pocketbook, flipping the phone open before she was completely awake.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jim Britt’s voice hissed through the receiver, snapping her eyes open and bringing her fully around.
“What do you care? You fired me,” she said.
“I’ll have your license revoked. You stepped over a line.”
“How exactly did I cross a line?”
“You solicited an already represented client.”
“I did not. I simply asked if Sean was still buried under a pile of cases and if he was, I’d be more than willing to take this one on.”
“You coerced him.”
“No, I didn’t. Besides, this is really none of your business.” She closed her eyes and reigned in her anger before she spoke again. “I’ll see you in court.” She folded the phone, cutting off the mad ranting of the district attorney filtering through the line.
Just as she settled back on the couch, a soft knock interrupted her less than peaceful afternoon. She crossed and glanced through the peephole. Surprise swept over her, sending a tingle down her spine and she swung the door open. “Agent Williams, what are you doing here?”
His eyebrows arched at Carolyn, before taking a quick glance around the apartment. “I thought I’d pay a visit,” he said when his gaze landed back on Carolyn. “You’re out awfully early.”
“Yeah, well, my boss didn’t like the implications of impropriety your visit garnered, so he let me go.” Carolyn turned and headed into the kitchen, dropping her empty bottle in the garbage and replenishing her drinking hand with a cold beer. She grabbed a second one and held it up as peace offering.
Agent Williams looked at the golden Corona Carolyn held up and licked his lips before shaking his head. “I’m on duty.”
“Pft.” Carolyn scoffed and popped the caps off both beers, bringing it to him despite his verbal decline. “Here’s to my new career.” She tinked the bottle she shoved into his hand and took a seat, stretching her legs onto the coffee table. “Take a load off. Randy should be home any time.” Why not ruin my entire life…
Agent Williams stood by the open door looking at the cool beer in his hand, undecided as to whether to be pissed by her flippant tone or to be sympathetic. “I’m not here to ruin your life Ms. Hastings, I’m here to do my job and follow a lead. A lead you gave me.” He pointed the neck of the beer in her direction before bringing it to his lips. He closed the door and crossed to the adjoining couch. “Can you find me those sneakers?”
Carolyn pointed to the balcony where the red stained sneakers still sat. They stunk to high heaven when Randy brought them in yesterday, so he put them back on the balcony until he had a chance to wash them. Well, he hadn’t gotten to it yet, so it would prove to be either a blessing or a curse, but Carolyn didn’t quite care right at the moment. The anger of being fired reared its ugly head. “You got me fired.” She shot at him as he crossed to the sliders.
Agent Williams turned. “You sure about that?” He opened the sliders and crouched down, scratching a pocketknife to the dried gunk caked on the sneaker and putting the bits into a small vial. He filled a couple of vials with samples from the different surfaces of the sneakers, slipping them into his inner coat pocket be
fore returning to the couch.
Carolyn hadn’t answered his question.
“You think I was the one who got you fired?”
“Yes, I do, Agent Williams. If you hadn’t come to my office, I’d still be assistant district attorney.”
Agent Williams tilted his head and raised his beer with a shrug. “Sorry, just doing my job.” He took a sip.
“Your job sucks.”
The beer shot out of his mouth in a spray of laughter. Agent Williams mopped the beer off his chin with the sleeve of his jacket. “My wife thinks so, too,” he said when the beer cleared his windpipe.
Carolyn picked at the corner of the label on her bottle, uneasy with having an FBI agent in the apartment with her—especially one who looked like Agent Williams. She glanced in his direction and shifted under his piercing stare.
* * * *
Steve studied Carolyn, wondering exactly when in her life the connection to the killer took place. The past, the present or was this like his wife’s dreams, forecasting a violent future. “So tell me, do you have any enemies that would want to hurt you?”
Her eyebrows arched in surprise at the turn in the conversation. He knew his presence made her uncomfortable, but he wanted a face to face with her boyfriend to gauge his reaction. The amount of blood covering the sneakers on the porch bothered him enough to forgo her discomfort.
“What do you think?”
He leaned forward. “I think you are at the center of this case.”
She recoiled in the seat, her grip on the beer tightening until her fingers turned white. “I thought I wasn’t a suspect.”
“Relax. I’m just trying to figure out your connection to the killer.”
The fissure between her eyes deepened. “Why do you think we’re connected?”
“Any psychic I’ve ever met had a link to their visions. It isn’t just a random glimpse at the future, like most people think it is. Nothing is random.”
“Don’t tell me you believe in fate, Agent Williams.”
Fate. In his book, fate should be another four-letter word. Steve leaned back in his seat, formulating an answer that wasn’t snide or sarcastic. Yeah, he believed in Fate and he hated that bitch with a passion. Fate turned his life into a virtual freak show and saddled him with an unfathomable responsibility. Instead of answering her verbally, he stood and retreated to the glass doors and stared at the view beyond.
“Sore subject?”
“You might say that,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her. “However, my life isn’t the one that’s in danger right now, so let’s get back to my question. Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt you?”
Carolyn laughed. “I worked for the district attorney’s office and I’ve got a perfect record, so I’d imagine there are quite a few people out there who would like to see me strung up…but I highly doubt they’d mistake someone else for me.”
“Are you willing to bet your life on that?”
Her face paled and she shook her head.
“Then please make a list for me,” he said, pointing toward the legal pad on the table.
She picked up the pad and rummaged a pen out of the carton on the table and started scribbling names down. He turned back to the view of the Statue of Liberty. “Nice view,” he said.
The jangle of keys interrupted her scribbling and Steve turned as the door swung open. The man on the other side of the door paused, looking between Carolyn and Steve before he stepped into the apartment. The insecure thoughts that swarmed made Steve want to laugh aloud, but he stifled the chuckle and gave a nod in his direction. Steve sized him up. Six foot, two hundred thirty solid pounds, and a jealous streak a mile wide.
Carolyn stood with the pad still in her hand and she waved it in Steve’s direction. “Randy, this is Special Agent Williams of the FBI. Agent Williams, this is Randy Kincaid.”
Randy’s eyebrows rose. “FBI?” He swung the door closed and glanced toward the bloody shoes on the porch just beyond Steve and then his gaze met Steve’s.
“They traced that phone call I made the other night.”
Randy’s expression hardened and his thoughts closed down like an iron door to a vault. “Carolyn has nothing to do with the murders.”
With his curiosity piqued, Steve decided to bait the conversation. “I beg to differ. She has everything to do with the murders.” He shot a glance in Carolyn’s direction before returning his gaze to Randy.
“She didn’t kill those women,” Randy said, his voice carrying the distinct hint of a growl.
“I never said she did,” Steve said.
Confusion colored Randy’s expression, his gaze guarded and the crease between his eyes matching that of Carolyn’s, except her face sported the red hue of anger.
* * * *
He’s goading him, Carolyn thought, her anger rising from the center of her being, pooling in hot bursts in her cheeks. “Randy has nothing to do with the murders,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t carry her building fury.
Agent Williams glanced at Randy and then back in her direction. All she was getting from him was that annoying static she heard earlier. She ground her teeth together in frustration. He’s blocking me.
The hint of a smile that appeared on his lips struck a chord. You’re in my head?
With a nod he headed toward the door, pausing by her side. “Do you have that list?”
She ripped the papers from the pad and handed it to him, silently conveying her disdain of how he handled the situation.
He folded the piece of paper, glancing at Randy again and stashed the list in his pocket. Something in his expression prickled her skin, like he suspected Randy of wrongdoing, and when his gaze slid back to hers she got the flash of a confirmation.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said and stepped out of the apartment, leaving her with Randy and a boatload of questions.
Randy closed the front door, turning toward the boxes still sitting on the table in front of Carolyn. Law books peeked out of one, scattered knick-knacks littered the coffee table, and more were still tumbled in the other box. He crossed, plucking the picture of him and Carolyn off the top of the pile, holding it with a questioning gaze in her direction.
“Jim fired me.”
“Why?”
Carolyn waved toward the door.
Randy turned, looking at the closed door and then back at Carolyn. “They think you killed those women?” His brow crinkled. “That’s ludicrous!”
Carolyn shook her head and stood. “That’s not the reason. Jim just didn’t like the fact I’m involved at all—he’s pissed because I provide ‘reasonable doubt’” Carolyn made quotes with her fingers when she said reasonable doubt. “And he doesn’t want the stigma on his bid for re-election,” she added, rolling her eyes.
“I thought he was your friend.”
“I guess when you’re in politics, you have no real friends, only assets and liabilities, and I became a liability.” Carolyn drained the beer in her hand and stood, heading for a refill. “You want one?” She glanced back at him, catching a nod.
When she returned and handed him the last beer, he wrapped his arm around her waist, planting a kiss on her lips.
“I wouldn’t get all lovey-dovey with me right now,” Carolyn said and he pulled away. She took a deep breath. “I mentioned the other night to Agent Williams.”
Randy tilted his head, the crease deepened for a second and then his skin smoothed and he straightened, hardening, his jaw tightening. “The blood.”
Carolyn nodded, keeping eye contact. “I didn’t mean to, it just spilled out along with everything else that’s happened since I started having nightmares. I told him you didn’t do it.”
Randy flopped onto the couch and ran his hands over his face. “God damn it, Carolyn, that’s all I need, the fucking FBI accusing me of something I didn’t do!”
“He took samples off your shoes.” She pointed toward the balcony.
Randy glared at her. “You let him
in here to get samples to use against me?”
Carolyn nodded. “I let him get samples because I know it’s only cattle blood.”
Randy tilted the beer to his lips, taking a large sip while glaring over the bottle at Carolyn. “And what if there’s a trace of human blood on those shoes, what then, Carolyn?”
She stepped back, shocked.
“My nose bled that night, all over the fucking place, all over my shirt and I’m betting some dripped onto my shoes.” He took another swig, his knuckles white from his tight grip on the bottle. “What if my blood type matches any of the women killed?”
“But your DNA is different.”
“Can they extract my DNA if the blood is mixed together with animal blood?”
“They should be able to, but I’m not one hundred percent sure.”
“Why the hell did you say something? Do you still have doubts?” The anger sparked in his eyes. “You still have doubts?” He worked himself up into a fury.
“No. I don’t have doubts. But Agent Williams pushed.” There was no easy way to explain Agent Williams ability to coerce, to command her to explain and her inability to turn off the automatic response.
He finished the bottle and slammed it on the table. “So you threw me under the bus.”
“No, I didn’t, he just… he just, arg!” She stood crossing to the sliders. “He’s not your average FBI agent.”
Randy came up behind her, spinning her around. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
“He can read minds. He heard my thoughts and made me clarify them.”
“Oh great. Another telepathic freak, that’s all I need.” He rolled his eyes.
Carolyn’s gaze shot to his and she pushed him back. “I’m not a freak!”
He grabbed her wrist, yanking her to him. “Yes, Carolyn, you are. Mind reading, dreams about killings, that’s freakish.”
“You just called me a freak.” She tried to yank her arm out of his grasp, but he pulled her against him.
“Yes, I did. And you accused me of murder.”
Fear replaced the anger and she tried to weasel out of his grip but he held tight. “Is this your way of telling me you did it?”
