Without Justice

by Carsen Taite

  “Good morning. I was just telling Luke here you’ve been holding out on us.”

  Cade’s heart froze. “Excuse me?”

  “We have a tennis pro in our midst. I’m not sure what you’re doing working in a library when you could be out on the circuit.”

  “Give me a break.” Cade ducked the praise, relieved that Monica was only kidding around with her big reveal.

  “Seriously, Luke. Star quality, this one. Makes me wonder what other surprises she has in store.”

  Cade cleared her throat while she tried to think of another topic, anything to change the subject. She was pretty sure Monica was only teasing, but the subject of secrets cut a little too close to home. “I doubt Luke cares about my future as the next Martina. Luke, how was your weekend?”

  “It was okay until I heard about Sam Wade.”

  Cade searched her memory, but she couldn’t place the name. She shot a help me look at Monica.

  “Sam worked in administration,” Monica said. “He was killed by some homeless guy on his way home from work Friday night. Remember the shooting I was telling you about?”

  “That’s horrible. Did you both know him?”

  “I’d met him a couple of times,” Monica said. “But he and Luke were good friends.”

  Luke shifted in his chair. “We went to college together. He got me this job when my last place laid me off.”

  Cade sank into a chair. “I’m so sorry.” She was, but she couldn’t help her brain from kicking into prosecutor mode. “Did the police make an arrest? Do they know anything about motive?”

  “I heard they arrested some guy who lives in some shady apartments nearby. Not exactly homeless, but only a rung above. I think their theory is it started as a robbery. Such a waste.” Luke drained the last of his coffee and pushed back from his chair. “Really made me think about what’s important in life, and how I shouldn’t wait to do the things I dreamed about. Monica, if it’s all right with you, I’m going to take some of that vacation time I’ve been storing up.”

  “Of course.” Monica pointed at Cade. “Besides, now that we have Cade on board, we can spare you.”

  Cade nodded, but her mind was still on the murder, ticking through all the questions she’d have if the case had landed in her lap. She glanced at her watch. It was time to get to work, but she vowed to check out the news on her first break to see if there were any updates. She wasn’t quite sure why she was so interested. Maybe it was because Emily was involved. Maybe it was because she missed the work she’d spent her whole life preparing for. Whatever the reason, she figured she would satisfy her curiosity and be done with it. Besides, she had a date to plan, and right now she couldn’t think of anything more she wanted to do.

  *

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to handle the hearing?”

  Emily shook off her haze. Seth was seated across from her desk, and judging by the look on his face, she’d zoned out again. No small wonder. She’d barely gotten any sleep all week, and she was completely preoccupied with the prospect of tonight’s date with Cade. “No, I’ve got it. I want you there of course, but I need to take the lead on this one. We can split the witnesses, but I’ll argue.”

  “Okay.”

  She caught the uncertainty in his tone. “Don’t think I’m up to it?”

  “Give me a break. No, it’s just I know Nash can be a pain in the ass, and I’m happy to handle his direct, if you want.”

  “Nash doesn’t like to be questioned by a woman, especially not one young enough to be his daughter, but that’s his problem, not mine. If he wants his arrest to stick, he’ll play ball. Trust me, I got this.”

  “No problem. I can take the crime scene tech.” Seth thumbed through the files on her desk. “Should be pretty quick. I don’t think there’s any major issues with the evidence.”

  “To be honest, most of it’s circumstantial.” Emily shoved the file toward Seth. “If Miller hadn’t confessed to being at the scene, I’m not sure I’d push this.”

  “You watched the interrogation. It was clean, right?”

  Emily yawned at the memory. The interrogation had gone late into the night, and Miller had consumed two sandwiches, a bag of donuts, and three Sprites before he finally gave up enough detail to convince her Nash had arrested the right guy. She’d seen longer, more drawn out questioning, and Nash, while employing the usual tricks of the trade, hadn’t crossed any legal lines in order to secure the confession. But she had to admit seeing the interrogation in real time was a whole lot different from the video she usually saw after the fact. She had a new appreciation for how wearing the process could be for all parties involved. Tempers flared, and exhaustion certainly factored into the result. Still, when it came down to it, jurors didn’t believe someone would confess to a crime they didn’t do, so the defendant’s statement was golden.

  “It was clean,” she said. “But I’d like some more physical evidence, and I’d definitely like something that shows a motive. Did Miller know Wade? If he robbed him, can we prove any of the cash came from his wallet? Finding the gun would be nice, and a bonus if Miller’s fingerprints are on it.”

  “We have time,” Seth said as he paged through the file. “For now, we have enough to indict and we definitely have enough for a bond high enough to keep Miller behind bars until trial.” He set the file down. “I heard Judge Nichols’s grandson got appointed to this one.”

  “You’re kidding. I thought he was doing estate planning, family law, that type of thing.”

  “I guess he decided to branch out. He’s been handling a few criminal cases here and there, but nothing like this.”

  “Nobody around here handles much of this.” It was true, yet she couldn’t help but wonder why Judge Burson had appointed one of the greener members of the criminal defense bar for what was likely to be such a high profile case. She figured it was some form of deference to Judge Nichols who had retired several years ago, but he certainly wasn’t doing the defendant any favors and, if they wound up going to trial, having a novice as opposing counsel usually meant lots of delays while he found his footing.

  Whatever. She had a stellar record at trial, and she’d win whether it was fast and clean or long and dirty. If they went to trial. The likelihood was once the defendant figured out he wasn’t getting out on bond and a guilty verdict at trial was going to result in life in prison, they were likely to get him to plead guilty to an agreed sentence. She was torn between the excitement of litigation and the desire to have more time to implement the changes she’d promised during her campaign. Whichever way it went, within a year, she’d be able to have some semblance of a personal life.

  As if on cue, her cell phone rang and she saw Cade’s name flash across the screen. “Seth, I need to get this. How about I meet you downstairs in just a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  He scooped up the file and ducked out of the office, and the moment he cleared the door she punched the button to answer her phone. “I thought you’d never call.”

  “And here I thought I was giving you space.”

  “Space? Is that a type of food? I don’t think I’ve eaten a full meal since brunch on Sunday. I hope you’re planning to feed me tonight.”

  “I did ask you for dinner. I don’t know about you, but in my world, that involves eating.”

  Emily started to make a smart remark about the double entendre of the word eating, but stopped before the words tumbled out. What was it about Cade that made conversation so easy and, more importantly, why did she feel compelled to resist?

  She decided to skip the innuendo, but stick to their plans. “Dinner, complete with lots of food, would be wonderful. I’ve had kind of a crazy week, and I’m really looking forward to tonight.”

  “Excellent. I assume the crazy has to do with the case in the news?”

  “That’s the one. We have a bond hearing this morning, and we’re presenting to the grand jury this afternoon. I have to warn you I’m not sure exactly wha
t time I’ll break free.”

  “So, should I make a late reservation or just play the timing by ear?”

  “There’s only one restaurant in town, besides the club, that even takes reservations, Ambrosia.”

  “Trust me, I’ve already scoped that out. Memorized the menu and everything. I was thinking dinner at eight?”

  Emily opened her mouth to say yes, but another idea edged its way in, and before she could consider the implications, she blurted it out. “How about you get dinner to go and bring it to my place? It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, doesn’t even have to be from Ambrosia.”

  “Actually, I was counting on fancy, but I’m happy to bring the fancy to you instead of the other way around.”

  “Perfect. Order me whatever you’re having. Don’t let them skip the breadsticks—they’re divine.”

  “Text me your address when you’re ready for delivery and I’ll be there within thirty minutes. I have to warn you, I’ll be expecting a big tip.”

  Emily hung up in a much better mood, and she refused to question her impulsive decision to invite Cade over. It was just a dinner date, nothing more. It didn’t matter where they ate. She repeated the mantra several times, but the repetition did nothing to quell her growing excitement that when this hell of a day was done, she had something to look forward to.

  *

  Judge Burson drummed his fingers on the bench as he considered defense counsel’s objection. Emily stood in front of Sheriff Nash, waiting patiently for the inevitable result. The only reason the judge was even giving the objection a second thought was because he had no idea what Brody Nichols was talking about. She’d already chimed in with her response and then clammed up. When she was a young, green attorney like Brody, she would’ve gone on and on to try to reinforce her argument, as if by continuing to hold the stage, she was somehow winning the argument, but she’d learned to use the power of confident silence to her advantage.

  “I’m going to overrule the objection,” Burson said. “Counsel, you may proceed.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Emily watched Brody deflate and slide back into his seat again. Once more, she wondered why he’d been appointed to this case. She didn’t blame him for taking it on. When she was new, she’d taken everything she could get, never once admitting lack of experience. Born litigators always did, but based on what she’d seen so far, she wasn’t convinced Brody had trial work in his blood.

  “Sheriff Nash, please describe what you found when you entered the defendant’s apartment.”

  Nash directed his answer to the judge. “The place was a mess. Newspapers everywhere and trash all over the floor.”

  Emily bit back an objection of her own at Nash’s irrelevant commentary. “What steps did you take to secure potential evidence implicating the defendant in the death of Mr. Wade?”

  “I posted a deputy at the door, and we contacted the crime scene unit. Once they arrived and took photographs, we put on gloves and began to search the room, item by item.”

  “Tell the court what you found to support your theory the defendant was involved in the death of Mr. Wade.”

  “I suppose the most important things we found were two knives and three crisp twenty-dollar bills.”

  “Tell us the relevance of those items.”

  “Well, in addition to being shot, Mr. Wade had his throat slit.” Nash looked over at the judge and demonstrated by drawing a finger under his chin, from ear to ear. “And the money, well, we think that was stolen from Mr. Wade.”

  Brody sprang out of his seat. “Objection, your honor, no foundation.”

  Burton waved for him to sit back down. “Hold on, son. I bet they’re getting there.”

  Emily smiled at the judge and asked Nash to explain the relevance of the money.

  “We found an ATM receipt in Mr. Wade’s front pants pocket. He withdrew one hundred dollars in cash that afternoon from the Wells Fargo machine on campus.”

  Emily looked over and saw Brody scribbling furiously on a notepad. She figured she knew what he was thinking so she beat him to the punch. “You say he withdrew a hundred dollars, but you only found sixty dollars in the defendant’s apartment?”

  “That’s right, but we also found a grocery store receipt in the amount of thirty-five fifty in Mr. Wade’s pocket, so I’m thinking he spent some of the money before Mr. Miller robbed him.”

  Brody kept scribbling, but he didn’t object this time. Maybe he was learning he’d do better to save his energy for when they were in front of a jury. This hearing had one purpose only and that was to determine if the evidence the sheriff’s office had gathered so far was enough to support the high bond. Brody had likely requested the hearing to get a sneak peek at the state’s case, but Emily was only going to reveal enough at this point to make sure Miller stayed in jail. Later this afternoon, when she presented the case to the grand jury, Brody and his objections wouldn’t be allowed in the room, and she might be inclined to show a bit more to seal a true bill from the grand jurors.

  Emily finished presenting her case and then took notes while Seth put the crime scene investigator on the stand. Footprints found near the victim’s body were a likely match to the defendant’s boots. Evidence of blood on one of the knives seized from the defendant’s apartment. A series of little things, on their own not conclusive, but taken together, the pieces all lined up to point to the defendant’s guilt. Since all they needed was to show they had a fairly strong case, Emily was confident Miller wouldn’t be going anywhere.

  When the evidence concluded, Burson asked, “Ms. Sinclair, it’s my understanding you are presenting this case to the grand jury today?”

  She half stood. “That’s correct, Judge. It’s likely they will report out on Monday.”

  “Excellent. Then I’m going to hold this hearing over until then, and I will announce my decision at that time.” He looked down his glasses at Brody. “If there’s no indictment, then your client will be free to go.” Without waiting for a response, he stood and waved at the gallery and said, “Have a nice weekend, everyone,” before disappearing through the door behind the bench that led to his chambers.

  Emily looked over at Brody who appeared stunned to learn all his hard work hadn’t netted some kind of decision about the fate of his client. She waited until the bailiff took his client into the holdover before saying, “Don’t feel bad. Judge Burson isn’t big on making decisions if he doesn’t have to, but come Monday, he’ll make a ruling, because I have no doubt your client will be indicted.”

  “I guess we’ll see, won’t we,” Brody said. Emily watched him gather his things and leave the room without another word. She almost felt sorry for him. She hadn’t been bragging with her remark about the indictment, but she had wanted to give him a realistic expectation of what would go down. She shook her head.

  “He’ll learn,” Seth said.

  “I know, but it kind of sucks for his client that he’s learning on a murder case.”

  “Not our problem. You want to grab some lunch? It’s going to be a long afternoon.”

  Seth gathered the file and swept it into his briefcase, not at all disturbed about dominating a weaker adversary. He was right, of course. It wasn’t their problem, but she couldn’t help but wish Miller had a better lawyer. Brody hadn’t even asked if he could make a presentation at this afternoon’s grand jury hearing. Granted, her predecessor had never allowed defense presentations, but she’d promised the defense bar she’d do things different. Apparently, Brody hadn’t gotten the memo or, more likely, he didn’t even know where to begin.

  It probably didn’t matter either way. Despite the fact the evidence was circumstantial, they had enough to indict, but she couldn’t help but acknowledge she’d feel a lot better about kicking the ass of a more formidable opponent. And with no opposition, she’d be home in plenty of time for dinner with Cade.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cade pulled up to the address Emily had texted her and did a double take at the gia
nt, three-story Victorian a couple of blocks from the center of town. She checked the address again, but she was at the right place. Granted, Emily was a top county official, but the county was small, and this place made the residence of the Cook County state’s attorney look like a dollhouse. There was plenty of room in the spacious drive, but she parked on the street on the off chance she’d written down the wrong address.

  The door opened before she could ring the bell, but the woman standing on the threshold was about twenty years older than Emily and wearing an apron.

  “Ms. Kelly?”

  Someday the surname would feel familiar, but it took Cade a second to respond. “Yes?”

  “Come in, please. Ms. Sinclair will be right down. Would you like me to take those for you?”

  Cade glanced down at the bags in her hand that contained a four-course meal from Ambrosia, along with the most expensive bottle of wine she could find at the only decent liquor store in the county. The stranger’s request was reasonable, but for some reason, she was reluctant to relinquish control. “That’s okay, I’ve got it.”

  “Very well, I’ll show you to the kitchen.”

  Cade followed the stranger through the entryway, past a sitting room and an enormous library, into a vast kitchen. The kitchen was outfitted with high dollar modern appliances while still retaining its antique charm.

  “Does anything need to be kept warm? I have the stove on just in case.”

  “Uh, no, everything should be fine.” She stared at the woman, trying not to be rude, but unable to figure out the relationship. She’d seen Emily’s mother at the club, so she knew it wasn’t her. Another relative, an aunt, perhaps? “I didn’t get your name.”

  “This is Clara.” Emily breezed into the kitchen. “And Clara was just leaving, right, Clara?”