“Why would she do that?” Alfred whispered. “Why would Natalie agree to come back now?”
“Because I’ve agreed to defend the child of a friend of hers. He’s a twenty-one-year-old kid charged with murder in a small city near the Kentucky border. Natalie said that if I can get this kid out of prison, she’ll come back to Chicago and tell me the truth.”
“And will you win the case with the kid?”
“The kid could be innocent,” Hunter paused. “But it doesn’t mean we’ll win. I don’t like my chances, because I’ve got the entire city working against me. There’s a lot of anger in the city, decades of pain, and they’re looking for someone to blame.”
Alfred nodded, staring into nothingness. He scratched his cheek again, and a little splotch of blood appeared. “You won’t let this go, will you, Tex? Even after I’m gone, you won’t let this go, will you?”
“I need the truth.” Hunter’s tone was flat. “After everything this has put me through, I deserve the truth.”
“I understand. I really do. I can’t imagine how tough it was for you to live out there with the Hunter name. I never would’ve blamed you for leaving. In fact, I remember telling you a number of times to move to another country. I think I told you to move to Australia or England at one point.” Alfred smiled at the memory. “But you didn’t want to go.”
“That’s right.” Hunter grinned at one of the few happy memories he had with his father after the conviction. “From behind bars, you tried to buy a plane ticket to Australia for me, but nobody would take your money. They all refused to help you.”
“Why didn’t you go?”
“Australia would’ve been too hot.” Hunter leaned back in his chair. “And there are too many things there that can kill you. There’s snakes, spiders, sharks, crocodiles, and I hear even the sun can kill you down there. I’d rather take my chances on the streets of Chicago.”
Alfred smiled. “So, you’re determined to see this through?”
“I need to know what happened. You can end it all now by telling me what really happened,” Hunter said. “If you tell me the truth, here and now, then I can keep Natalie out of all of this. I’ll call her and tell her to stay in Mexico. But you need to tell me the truth.”
Alfred looked away, staring at the wall, the thoughts tracking through his head. “You know, Tex, I never said this to your face, but…” Alfred turned back. “I’m proud of you.”
The words caught Hunter off-guard. He clenched his jaw as he stared at the concrete walls of the room. He blinked a few times, trying to keep his emotions at bay.
“Tex, I’m proud of the way you stand up for what’s right, I’m proud of the fight you have, and I’m proud of your determined nature. You’re a fighter. You always have been. That…” Alfred tapped his chest. “That makes me very proud.”
The silence sat over the room for a long moment.
“Stop this.” Hunter stood and shook his head. “I don’t need to hear this from you. Not now. You could’ve told me those things years ago, but you never did. You let me fight the world by myself. You let me struggle out there against the world. No. You can keep the emotional speech for someone else.” Hunter moved to the other side of the room. “What I need from you now is the truth. After all these years, I need the truth. Did Natalie kill those girls and you took the fall?”
“The truth…” Alfred leaned back in his chair. He stared at the ceiling, trying to muster up the fight that he had left. “The truth is I was protecting someone.”
Hunter stepped forward and put his hands on the table. “Why?”
“I can’t tell you, Tex. I can’t tell you more than that. I promised myself long ago that I would never talk. And that’s all that’s kept me going some days. If I let go of the secret now… I would break the promise to myself. That secret is the only thing that kept me alive, and if I let it go now, it would’ve all been for nothing. I hope you can understand that. I have to keep that last remaining badge of honor. I hope you can understand my life was lived with purpose. If I tell you now, then I’ve betrayed myself and everything I’ve lived for. I can’t do that.”
“Will you ever tell me the truth?”
Alfred shook his head. “The people I had to deal with, the people who know what happened, they’re still alive. And they’re the sort of people who never forget. It’ll be generations before they forget.” Alfred blinked back a tear. “I said I’m proud of you, Tex, and I mean it. Thank you for coming. You’ve made an old man happy before he drifts off to another world.”
Chapter 17
A few light taps on the windowpane in Hunter’s office caught his attention. It had begun to rain again. There was a storm on the horizon. He knew it was coming. He could feel it in the air. The storms had been heavy. There’d been flooding all over the state. On the roads that lead to Longford, in the cities, and on the farms. There was no escaping it.
There were moments of destiny that took a lifetime to build. As Hunter watched the rain dance down the window, he could feel it coming. The wheels had been set in motion. As much as his father wanted to avoid it, as much as he refused to talk, the truth was coming.
Families were complex, he’d heard that saying often, but his was more complicated than most. Having a father convicted of being a serial killer complicated most things. Natalie had fled Chicago before their father’s trial, and Hunter didn’t hear from her again for thirty-five years. He’d spent years wondering why she left so suddenly. When Patrick tracked her down earlier that year, Hunter had no idea what their meeting would uncover. She didn’t return their calls, so they traveled to Puerto Vallarta, a Mexican tourist town on the Pacific Ocean. They found her waiting tables, and after the initial shock of seeing her brothers, she told them to leave. She was scared. When she called Hunter and asked him to defend Javier, her friend’s son, he accepted on the condition she would come back to Chicago and tell the truth. Now that the truth was closing in, Hunter wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear it.
“You look deep in thought.” Esther knocked on the open door frame as it approached 5pm on a Friday afternoon. “What are you thinking about?”
“The State of Illinois.” Hunter lied. He didn’t want to let Esther know how fearful he was of the truth. “And its election process.”
“Interesting.” Esther smiled as she waltzed into the office, and sat her tall frame into the chair opposite Hunter’s desk. She looked stunning. Her eyes were a rare shade of cobalt, her skin was lightly tanned, and her figure boasted healthy feminine curves. Her blonde hair had been growing longer, pulled back in a ponytail, with one loose strand at the front. Her smile was hypnotic, disarming even the hardest of souls. “Anything in particular about the Illinois’ election process?”
Hunter turned around to face his desk again. “Did you know that in the last election for governor, only sixteen out of 102 counties voted for the current governor? Does the vote really represent the whole state?”
“That’s not a lot.” Esther leaned forward. “But I’ll guess one of the counties was Cook County?”
“The governor won 55% of the vote in the state, so more than half the voters in Illinois voted for him, but is the whole state really being represented, or just a select, few densely populated counties?”
“I would say the majority of the population is represented.” Esther smiled. “But I must say it seems like the city of Longford is starting to grow on you. I’ve never heard you question Chicago’s place in Illinois before.”
“I wouldn’t say Longford is starting to grow on me. Most of the city still hates me, although I’m getting spat at less.” Hunter scoffed and then looked at his watch. “Shall we grab a drink to close out the week? I’ve got to meet Ray in an hour, we could have a quiet one before then?”
Esther agreed and soon they were out the door of the office, and into the closest bar. The Cocktail Glass was a bar off West Jackson located at the bottom of a large office building, tucked under fifty stories of nine-to-f
ive workers. The bar had a service area for drinks to the right side and tables for dinner to the left. Hunter and Esther took their seats at a raised table, amongst the other workers catching a drink to celebrate the end of another work week. The slick décor was modern, as was the music in the background, and the service was impeccable.
In the bar, each with a drink in their hand, they laughed as they swapped the best, and worst, stories they’d heard over the past month. They spoke about the weather, they chatted about the news, and they laughed about the clientele coming into the bar. Esther talked about the latest social media crazes, and Hunter shook his head the entire time. He chatted about Longford, about Southern Illinois, and the long drive south. They discussed the storms. They talked about their close calls with tornadoes, the times they were trapped in floods, and the excitement of the best lightning shows they’d ever seen. They spoke about the month ahead. Over the hour, they spoke about everything, and nothing in particular, and it meant the world to both of them.
As Hunter finished his drink, he paused and looked at Esther. “You could come down to Longford and help me. The trial starts on Monday, and Carol has been amazing, but I could always do with the extra help.”
Esther offered half a smile and looked away from him. “You know how I feel about that, Tex. This isn’t about Javier; this is about the crusade that you won’t let rest. I can’t be a part of that. I’ve watched this obsession to save your father almost kill you numerous times, and I can’t… I don’t want to be a part of something that could kill you.”
Hunter nodded slightly. He started to say something more but the words caught in his throat.
“Knock, knock.” Ray Jones rested a hand on Hunter’s back. “Anyone home?”
“Hello Ray.” Esther smiled and picked up her empty glass. “You’ve always got impressive timing.”
Esther took the jacket off the back of the chair and put it on, unsure of what to say next to Tex. She offered him a gentle smile and rubbed her hand on his shoulder, before she turned and left in an uncomfortable silence.
Hunter gathered his thoughts, waiting until she’d left the bar, and then sighed. Jones sat down on the chair next to Hunter. “Tex, I’ve known you and Esther a long time, and I might not be the most romantic guy out there, but man, you’ve got to tell her how you feel. It’s even obvious to me, and that’s saying something.”
“I’m getting relationship advice from a guy that has a new girlfriend every month?” Hunter joked. “Let me guess, you’ve broken up with another one?”
“You’re right. I dated her for five weeks, but I had to break up with her because she was an obsessive magazine collector. She had so many of them.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I mean, she had a lot of issues.” Jones chuckled to himself as he picked up the menu from the bar. “But even I could feel the electricity between you two when I walked in here. Most people search their entire lives for that connection.” He rested one of his large hands on Hunter’s shoulder. “I’m saying this as a friend—don’t risk losing her. Tell her how you feel.”
Hunter nodded, and then distracted himself by ordering two pints of Goose Island pale ale and two plates of spicy wings. He moved towards the booth at the back of the bar, and Jones followed a few steps behind.
“Have you heard from Natalie?” Jones questioned as they settled into the booth. “Anything since you took on the case?”
“I’ve only heard from her once since the case started. She said Javier’s mother was very concerned about the case, but she couldn’t give me anything to build upon. I met Javier’s mother and father when they arrived a few weeks ago, and they’re lovely people. I asked them about Natalie, and they were full of praise for her. Said she lived a quiet life in Mexico, always helping others. They didn’t know that we’re siblings, and I didn’t raise it with them. She’d told them I was an old friend. They don’t know about our family history, and it seems Natalie has kept her stints in prison a secret as well. I guess it’d be a hard conversation to have with your friends.”
“Yeah, what do you say— ‘Hey, did you know I’ve been to prison five times, and once was for smashing a woman’s hand to pieces with a hammer?’ I can’t imagine her having that conversation.” Jones said as he sipped his beer. “And you’re sure you want Natalie to come back to Chicago?”
“I need to get her to talk,” Hunter said. “But she won’t talk to me about our father unless I get Javier out of prison, and I’m running out of time. The trial starts on Monday.”
“Well, I think I might have something to help you there.” Jones removed a file from his messenger bag and slid it across the table. “I’ve been digging deep, and I’ve got a lead. The only people who would talk to me were former residents of Longford, because I wasn’t welcome anywhere in that city. I drove down there, had a look around, and it wasn’t a nice experience. Every time I walked near a car, they locked the doors. There was no doubt about it—a six-foot-four black man walking through the city scared a lot of people.”
“I’m not surprised. People are naturally scared of things they aren’t used to. There are some good people in the city, Ray, and I’ve met them. The majority of the city is filled with good people with good hearts.”
“I’m surprised you’re defending the people of Longford. They all seem to hate you for defending Javier.”
“Even if they hate me, it’s still important to step back and look at the big picture. That’s where common sense is. It doesn’t lie in the details; it lies in the big picture.” Hunter opened the file. “What’s this?”
“There are two files there, but the first one isn’t good news,” Jones said. “I know it’s the last weekend before the trial, but this has just come up. I put the numbers together and it tells a clear story. Ninety-five percent of the people sent to prison in Longford over the last five years have been out-of-towners. People who grew up in Longford simply don’t get sent to prison. However, every out-of-towner taken to court in Longford for a misdemeanor is sent to prison. A one-hundred-percent conviction rate. Not even one ‘Not Guilty’ verdict over the last five years for out-of-towners. Not one.”
“This is good, Ray.” Hunter read over the statistics. “This is grounds for an appeal on the decision to keep the trial in Longford. Why is this not good news?”
“Because I’m not sure that’ll save Javier.”
“Why not?” Hunter looked up and squinted.
Jones turned another page. Hunter read the file. Then he read the information again. “That can’t be right.”
“It is,” Jones said. “Every Mexican inmate in that prison dies within five years of being convicted. If he’s sent to prison, it’s a death sentence.”
Hunter closed the first file. The statistics were good, they helped him formulate an appeal if they lost the case, but they also added pressure to the trial. Not only was Hunter facing the fact he could lose the case, but now he faced the prospect that it could cost a life as well.
“And the second file?” Hunter opened it and scanned over the information.
“I’ve finally found someone that’ll talk to you about the corruption in Longford,” Jones said. “I’ve contacted a lot of the residents who have left Longford, and Anna Michele Laurie is the only one who is willing to talk about corruption. Five years ago, Anna’s twenty-year-old son was jailed for five months for burglary. She maintained he was innocent, and as soon as he was released, they moved out of Longford. She’s willing to talk, and she might be the lead you’re after.”
Chapter 18
An hour southwest of Downtown Chicago, the city of Joliet was once famous for the toughest prison in the country, but since the closure of Joliet Prison more than a decade ago, it’d lost its moniker ‘Prison City,’ and rebranded itself as a fast-growing family-oriented area, a place for families to escape the rat race of Chicago. Home to Chicagoland Speedway, Joliet residents liked life behind the wheel—the residents were seemingly car enthusias
ts themselves or lived next door to a car enthusiast, and they drove like it. After weaving through the traffic, a number of close calls to raise his heart rate, Hunter parked his BMW outside the Joliet West Diner.
He stepped in the doors, a beep announcing his arrival as the life of a busy diner whirled in front of him. Families were busy feeding children, couples talked over milkshakes, and the lone diners stared at their phones. One waitress was busy refilling coffee mugs, another was taking orders on her small pad, and a third was ringing up a bill. It was full of noise, life, and activity. The American diner served traditional foods focused on large breakfasts, large lunches, and large coffees, all of which were neatly displayed on a board above the counter or on laminated menus on the tables.
Hunter spotted the woman wearing a blue sweater, sitting at the far end of the diner, tucked into the darkest corner, away from the large windows. She was cradling her coffee, her eyes darting around the diner, checking out everyone that walked in the door.
“Ms. Laurie?” Hunter approached the woman. “My name is Tex Hunter.”
“Anna Michele Laurie.” She stood and offered her hand. She was a short woman in her late forties, thin with straight black hair. She smelled nice, but her perfume was struggling against the overpowering smell of bacon that filled the room. “It’s nice to have someone finally listen to what I’ve been saying for years.”
“I understand you’ve talked to my investigator, Ray Jones.” Hunter shook her hand and sat down. “He said you have some information about Longford for me.”
Natural Justice: A Legal Thriller (Tex Hunter Legal Thriller Series Book 6) Page 10
