Talon Winter Legal Thrillers Box Set

by Stephen Penner

  Alcott’s expression hardened. “I don’t agree.”

  Talon laughed. “Well, okay then. You don’t agree. Duly noted. And you think that matters. See, that’s the height of privilege. No, actually. You not even seeing your privilege is the height of privilege.”

  Alcott’s expression turned to ice. “I think we’re done,” she said.

  “Okay, fine.” Talon threw her hands up. “So, you’re just gonna throw another Black man in prison for your own career advancement. Got it.”

  Alcott’s face grew even grimmer. “I do not consider a defendant’s race when I make offers.”

  “Because you’re color blind?”

  “Exactly,” Alcott replied, her chin raised. She pointed to her statue of Lady Justice. “Lady Justice is blindfolded for a reason.”

  “You realize the prisons are full of young Black men, right?” Talon asked.

  “The prisons are full of people who commit crimes,” Alcott countered, “regardless of their race. It’s not because of me, and it’s not because of you. It’s because of them. They did something wrong. Look, I’m White, but so are you, and we’re the ones fighting this case out. May the best woman win, right? And we’ll let that blindfolded Lady Justice decide.”

  “I don’t know.” Talon looked again to the statue of Lady Justice, brass hand on the hilt of her sword. “She looks pretty White too.”

  Before Alcott could think of a response, Talon stood up. “It was good to meet you, even if only to know what I’m up against. But you’re wrong. About at least three things.”

  Alcott stood up too. She was about the same height as Talon and met her gaze. “Oh yeah? What are those?”

  Talon held that gaze. “Who’s right. Who’s White. And what’s wrong.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Talon ended her day early. Well, earlier than she’d expected to. It was still after dinner—Thai takeout—and it was still dark outside, but she’d have a few hours to relax before bedtime. As she drove the short distance from her downtown office to her condo in Tacoma’s Old Town neighborhood, she went over her conversation with the prosecutor in her head.

  “I should have said,” she muttered, “’Who’s right? Who’s White? And who will win when Lady Justice shines her light?’”

  But then she frowned. “No, too wordy.”

  Then a small smile. “Maybe closing argument?”

  A sharp shake of the head. “Wait, no. Lady Justice doesn’t shine a light. That’s Lady Liberty. Damn.”

  She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice the man standing in the middle of the driveway to the parking garage.

  “Whoa!”

  She slammed on the brakes just before she hit the man, who, for his part, didn’t move an inch. Until the vehicle stopped and he stepped calmly to the driver’s side window. “Hey, sis.”

  Talon’s already racing heart pounded even faster. She dropped her head into her hands as her brother, William Winter, circled the car and jumped into the passenger seat.

  “You’re out,” she said through her fingers, waiting for the adrenaline to fade a bit. Both from almost hitting someone with her car, and from suddenly seeing her brother out of prison for the first time in eight years.

  “I’m out,” Will confirmed.

  Talon finally looked up. “Good,” she said. Then she asked, “Today?”

  “Last week,” Will answered. He pointed out the windshield. “Are you gonna drive?”

  Talon’s foot was still planted squarely on the brake, her knee locked. “Right,” she said after a moment. She relaxed her leg and let the car ease forward to the card reader. She flashed her badge and the door to the underground garage began to raise.

  “Last week, huh?” Talon said. “I knew it was soon.”

  Will laughed. “You knew it was last week. C’mon, sis. I know you.”

  Talon shrugged as she pulled fully into the garage. “I thought maybe I was wrong when you didn’t show up on my doorstep right away.”

  “I crashed at a friend’s place the last few days,” Will explained. “I had some stuff to take care of when I first got out. But it wasn’t a permanent thing.”

  Talon found a spot near the elevator. “I’m not a permanent thing either.”

  “Right, right,” Will assured, palms raised. “I get it.” He shook his head. “Geez, sis. I know I don’t fit into your lifestyle, but I thought you’d be glad to see me again, free.”

  Talon sighed as she turned off the ignition. “I am. And you do. Fit in, that is. It’s just…” She tried to figure out how to put it. “I’ve got a lot going on right now. I can’t babysit you. And I don’t want a roommate.”

  They both climbed out of the car as Will offered more assurances. “I don’t want to be your roommate either. Believe me. I’m a grown man. I don’t need a babysitter.”

  Talon raised an eyebrow at that assertion, but bit her lip. She locked the car with a chirp from her key fob and pressed the elevator call button.

  “Seriously,” Will pressed. “I’ve learned my lesson.” He raised his right hand. “Honest Injun.”

  Talon’s expression fell. “Is that supposed to be funny? I just got done yelling at a lily white prosecutor about how the prisons are filled with people of color. You shouldn’t joke about our ancestry.”

  For the first time since he hopped into Talon’s car, Will’s expression hardened. “I don’t need you to tell me what prison is like. I just got done with eight years of it. And I don’t need you to tell me about our ancestry. I spent those eight years in a Native gang.” He pushed up his sleeve and showed her a prison tattoo of a feather next to an abbreviation she didn’t recognize. “For protection against the White gang. And the Black gang. And the Mexican gang.”

  Talon wasn’t sure how to respond. It hadn’t taken ten minutes before Will started to get angry again. The elevator doors opened. She turned and stepped inside.

  Will followed. He pushed his sleeve down and put his smile back on. “Come on, sis. I was just goofing. Relax. Look, I get it. No roommates, no babysitting. No problem. I just need a place to crash for a week or two ‘til I get my feet under me again.”

  Talon frowned as the elevator lurched upward. “You’re gonna be under my feet.”

  They reached Talon’s floor and stepped off the elevator.

  “No way,” Will replied as they walked to Talon’s unit. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

  Talon looked sideways at him as she unlocked the door. Will pushed it open and practically fell inside.

  “Wow, nice place!” he enthused, spinning slowly in a circle with his arms extended, stopping to look out her balcony at the view of Commencement Bay. “Oh yeah, this is gonna be great.”

  Talon’s heart sank.

  Will looked back at her. “You got beer in the fridge, right?”

  CHAPTER 5

  The next morning, Talon just wanted to forget about her brother and focus on her new case. Which would have been easier if Will hadn’t been laid out on the couch, snoring, as she tried to get ready for work. She skipped her usual routine in the kitchen and elected to go out for all of her daily nutrition needs, including her first cup of coffee. It wasn’t exactly in-budget, but she wasn’t going to risk another conversation with her brother for the sake of home brewed coffee.

  Once in her car, she was able to leave thoughts of her brother behind and focus again on work. Her happy place. Except it wasn’t so happy. In fact, her work was filled with a lot of unhappiness. Like drug addicts going to prison for the rest of their lives. She wondered if Zeke would be in a prison gang, and if so, would he hassle the guys in whatever Native gang was at the prison he ended up in.

  Her thoughts writhed around those and similar thoughts as she parked her car and headed up to her office, forgetting even to grab that first coffee of the day from one of the nearby coffee shops. As the elevator rose, she took a deep breath and tried to focus her mind on a single thought:

  Get Ezekiel Frazi
er acquitted.

  Get Ezekiel Frazier acquitted.

  Get Ezekiel Frazier acquitted.

  The elevator door opened with a ding, and she walked straight into Curt Fairchild, private investigator and her onetime—only onetime—lover.

  “Curt!” she called out as she bounced off his chest. She didn’t have a coffee to spill. But he did. Right on his nicely pressed khakis.

  “Talon,” he returned the one word greeting. He looked down at his stained pants, then at his suddenly half empty cup. She wasn’t sure which he was sadder about. “Nice to run into you,” he quipped.

  She groaned at the joke, mostly inside, but with a slightly audible tone as well. “Heh, yeah. Sorry. Was kind of lost in thought.”

  She’d been avoiding him since they had hooked up that one time. It probably wasn’t fair, but she wasn’t looking for a relationship. And despite the stereotypes, it was the men who were the romantic ones, in her experience. If they got emotionally attached, it was hard to shake them. Maybe because they believed those same stereotypes and assumed every woman they slept with wanted the whole Happily Ever After. But Talon hadn’t been looking for a Happily Ever After. She’d just wanted a Happy Right Then.

  “No worries,” Curt said. Then he rubbed his dry hand on the back of his neck. “So…” he started.

  But Talon interrupted. “Sorry. Can’t talk. Got a lot on my mind. Big case. Lots to do.”

  She hurried around him and down the hall to her office, ignoring his called-out offer to help out on whatever case she was working on. She put her hand on the office door and endeavored to focus her mind again. One thought:

  Get Ezekiel Frazier acquitted.

  Get Ezekiel Frazier acquitted.

  Get Ezekiel Frazier acquitted.

  Then she opened the door and stepped inside.

  Hannah was there, as usual, but rather than ignore Talon from the comfort of her computer screen like she usually did any more, the receptionist stood up and greeted her.

  “Ms. Winter,” she started formally, somewhat to Talon’s puzzlement. “You have a guest.” Then she pointed to the man sitting on the other side of the lobby.

  He stood up and stepped over to shake her hand. He was a tall, African-American man, with a shaved head and an impeccable suit. He was disarmingly handsome and seemed confident enough that Talon thought he probably knew it.

  “Ms. Winter,” he said in a smooth baritone as he shook her hand. “My name is Marshall Lenox. And I want you to get Ezekiel Frazier convicted.”

  CHAPTER 6

  “What?” Talon yanked her hand from Marshall Lenox’s strong grip. “Why the hell would I do that? I’m his lawyer.”

  “I know you’re his lawyer,” Marshall replied evenly. “That’s why you’re the only one who can make sure he gets convicted.”

  Talon narrowed her eyes at him. “Maybe you don’t understand what ‘I’m his lawyer’ means. Give me one reason I would ever do anything except fight like hell to make sure he doesn’t get convicted.”

  “Because the Three Strikes Law is cruel and unusual punishment under the Eighth Amendment to the United States Constitution,” Marshall answered. “And it’s used to disproportionately incarcerate African-Americans and other people of color.”

  “That’s two reasons,” Talon pointed out, “and neither of them seem like selling points to me. Are you from the Prosecutor’s Office or something?”

  Marshall laughed lightly. “Definitely not.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card. “I’m a field director with the National Appellate Justice Project. And I’m here to talk to you about justice.”

  Talon took the card and examined it. “Justice for my client?”

  “Something even more important than that,” Marshall answered.

  But Talon smiled ruefully. “No such thing.”

  Marshall added a warm smile of his own. “We’ll see.” He looked around the lobby, and at Hannah who hadn’t stopped listening the entire time. “Could we go back to your office?” he suggested.

  Talon crossed her arms, and thought for a moment. After that moment, she acquiesced. “Fine. But I have a lot to do today. Don’t waste my time.”

  Once they were settled into Talon’s office—she behind her desk, he seated opposite her—Marshall turned professorial. Socratic law school professor, to be exact. The worst kind.

  “What happens if you win?” he asked Talon.

  “My guy goes free,” Talon knew.

  “And what happens if you lose?”

  “He goes to prison for the rest of his life,” Talon answered. “I understand the stakes.”

  “I’m not sure you do,” Marshall replied, his tone somehow making that comment still seem respectful. “A lot more happens than just that if you lose.”

  Talon inclined her head in thought. “Fines?” she ventured after a moment.

  Marshall laughed. “Brilliant! Yes, fines. Absolutely. You really are a trial lawyer.”

  “Thank you,” Talon decided to say.

  “But there are other types of lawyers,” Marshall continued. “What about appellate lawyers?”

  Talon nodded. “Oh, okay. Right. He’ll appeal. Got it. I’m done with my part, but the case lives on, or whatever.”

  “Correct,” Marshall said. “And, as the saying goes, you can’t appeal an acquittal.”

  “I hope not,” Talon answered. “And by the way, that’s still my plan. An acquittal.”

  “It’s a good plan,” Marshall allowed. “For your client anyway. But what about all the other people who came before him who are already serving life sentences? What about all the other people who will come after him who aren’t fortunate enough to have you as their lawyer? Their only hope is if the appellate courts declare the Three Strike Law unconstitutional. The Legislature will never repeal it. It’s too politically popular. Tough on crime and all that. No, the only hope of the hundreds of people locked away forever is to have a case go up on appeal and have the State Supreme Court strike down the law. And this is the perfect case.”

  “Because I’m going to lose?” Talon ventured.

  “No.” Marshall shook his head. “Just the opposite, in fact. You’re our biggest obstacle. If we thought you’d lose, I wouldn’t be here. We’d just let you lose.”

  “Gosh, thanks,” Talon deadpanned.

  “You’re welcome,” Marshall returned. “It is a compliment. We’re afraid you’ll win, and we’ll miss this golden opportunity. We’ve researched you. I’ve researched you. You are… very impressive.”

  Talon wasn’t about to blush like some schoolgirl. “Okay, sweet talker. So, what’s your plan? I just walk him into court and plead him guilty? I’m not sure he’d go for that.”

  “No, no, that won’t work.” Marshall waved the suggestion away. “You can’t appeal a guilty plea. It has to be a conviction at trial.”

  “But I’ll win at trial,” Talon reminded him. “You said so yourself.”

  “Not a stipulated bench trial,” Marshall explained. “Waive jury and stipulate to the police reports. The judge will conduct a bench trial that consists of nothing more than him reading the police reports. He’ll find your guy guilty, and then we’ll take it from there. Pro bono. A free appeal for your guy.”

  “How nice for him,” Talon said. “If you win. Which you won’t, by the way. Appellate judges are elected too. So, my guy spends the rest of his life in prison because his trial attorney didn’t do her job.”

  “Don’t be too sure we won’t win,” Marshall replied. “Like I said, this is the perfect case. It’s the lowest possible felony with the highest possible penalty. Drug possession? Are you kidding me? Marijuana used to be illegal, now they practically have pot shops in the mall. Throw in the fact that the defendant is African-American and we have the opportunity to raise Equal Protection arguments about the racial disparity of the state and national prison populations. Do you know how many people of color we can help?”

  “We,” Talon r
epeated. She frowned. “Is that another reason this is the perfect case?”

  “I told you,” Marshall confessed, “I researched you. I know you used to be a civil litigator. I know you’ve tried murder cases. And I know you’re a member of the Tribe. You understand how important this is.”

  Talon thought for several moments, then stood up. “Well, if you really did research me, then you already know what my answer is. My duty is to my client, and no one else. Not you. Not the National Appellate Justice Project. Not anyone else in prison, now or in the future. I’m the only thing standing between Ezekiel Frazier and life in prison.”

  Marshall stood up as well. “You’re also the only thing standing between this perfect test case and the State Supreme Court.”

  Talon shrugged. “Then I guess you’ll have to root against me.”

  But Marshall shook his head and smiled. “I don’t think I could ever do that.”

  Talon wasn’t unaware of his renewed attempt at flattery. But she chose to ignore it and escorted him out of her office and back to the main lobby, where he thanked Hannah for her kindness and took his leave.

  “So, what did he want?” Hannah asked.

  “He wanted me to throw the Frazier case,” Talon answered. “March him into court and basically plead him guilty to Strike Three.”

  “Oh, well, don’t do that,” Hannah said.

  “Don’t worry,” Talon said. “I would never do that. I have an ethical obligation to represent my client to the best of my abilities, regardless of the impact it may have on anyone else, and I will do everything in my power to get him acquitted.”

  “No,” Hannah said. “I mean, don’t do anything on the case. D.A.C. called. They said they made a mistake. They’re taking the case back.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Twenty minutes later, Talon was in the lobby of the Pierce County Department of Assigned Counsel. They weren’t getting the Frazier case back without a fight. And she knew enough to fight in person.