Blood and Justice: A Legal Thriller (Brad Madison Legal Thriller Series Book 4)

by J J Miller

  “I take it you believe the robbery was an inside job.”

  “Of course, it was.”

  “And you think that Chip was behind it.”

  “What can I say? It’s certainly not out of the question.”

  “If that’s the case, who else would be involved?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, if you assume Chip was in on it then at least one of your other employees was too.”

  “Well, of course I’m looking at that.”

  The tone of Rollins’ response did not suggest he was out to help me at all. He was most likely just fishing for information.

  “Okay. Look, I need to get to the office.”

  Rollins leaned in closer. “Mr. Madison. This is a cut-throat industry I’m in. My competitors are circling like sharks, and I’m not prepared to just wait around to see what the cops come up with. I need to get to the bottom of what happened ASAP. And I’m offering to share whatever I learn with you. And, like I’ve told the cops, if there’s anything you want to know about my company, I’m happy to tell you.”

  “Shouldn’t you be offering your help to Chip directly?”

  Rollins had to think for a few seconds.

  “I last spoke to him a week ago.”

  “After the heist then?”

  Rollins nodded. “You must understand. My reserves of trust are at an all-time low. If Chip is innocent, great. And I’d very much like to think that he is. But what’s abundantly clear to me right now is that I’ve got at least two traitors working for me. Probably more.”

  “This last conversation you had with Chip, did you call him or did he call you?”

  “I called him.”

  “And?”

  “It was not the warmest of conversations. But I want answers. I can’t wait around for any kind of trial. I need to rebuild the trust in my company pronto.”

  “Did you ask Chip if he did it?”

  “Yes. I asked him straight out.”

  “And he denied it?”

  “Yes. But—”

  “You don’t believe him.”

  “I didn’t just ask him that. I wanted to know everything he knew. And he was so hazy on the details. If he had nothing to do with this crime, he’s want to shed light on anything that could expose the true perpetrator. But he gave me nothing. He remembered nothing.”

  “Do you think he’s keeping something from you?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “And what if you were convinced that Chip was guilty?”

  “Then between now and the time they lock him up for the rest of his life, he had better start praying that I don’t get my hands on him. I think he knows that he’s not going to last more than a few weeks inside. He’s crossed some ruthless people. The kind of people who will not feel satisfied in him losing his freedom. They will want him to suffer worse than he could ever imagine.”

  I was right to tell Chip to get his family out. I made a mental note to insist when I go see him that he doesn’t waste a moment longer.

  “Mr. Rollins, if, in fact, Chip is charged and that he calls upon me to defend him, then yes, I would seek your help.”

  Rollins was grinding his jaw.

  “Name it.”

  “I’d want to speak to every staff member and examine how you go about your business.”

  Rollins appeared nonchalant. He nodded his head but it was clear that he did not like the idea of giving me so much access.

  “Of course. I’d be glad to have you see how I run my business. I have nothing to hide. And in return, I’d ask that you keep me abreast of any developments you find that shed light on this crime.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  He raised both his palms.

  “Anything outside attorney-client privilege.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Rollins. Now, I must get to work.”

  With that, we both got to our feet and shook hands. As we did, Rollins held my eye with an intense look. It was not hard to tell he was struggling to keep his rage at bay, and something told me that, sooner or later, I was going to end up being the target of his fury. I could not help but wonder if that had already come to pass, that the bikers on my doorstep were sent by him.

  But if that was the case, why didn’t Rollins double down on the threat? Was he playing good cop to the bikers’ bad cop? Did he hope to get something from me that he could confront Chip with?

  Many other questions came to mind. And I was all the more eager to put a few straight to Chip Bowman.

  Chapter 13

  The address Chip had given me was a modest one-story house on North Orchard Drive, Burbank. The exterior was painted light green and striped awnings hooded the street-facing windows. A driveway ran alongside a neat patch of lawn, through a carport where the entrance was, and into a double garage out back.

  After I pressed the doorbell, I heard little feet approach quickly and two young faces appeared at the side glass. The sight of the children, however sweet, struck me with alarm about the danger Chip and his family were in. A man’s voice spoke and the girls disappeared. I heard the deadbolt being unlocked before the door was opened and there stood Chip.

  “Hi Brad,” he said quietly, stretching his head to the left to survey what he could of the street.

  “If you’re worried about me being followed, I wasn’t. Not that you’re hard to find. And your kids should not be coming to the door like that.”

  Chip nodded. “Yes, I know. I’ve told them several times but I’m afraid it hasn’t sunk in yet.”

  Once inside, I found myself standing at the end of a hall. At the end, the two girls were staring back. A woman appeared from a room behind them and cradled them to her as she looked at me.

  “Brad, this is my wife, Carrie,” said Chip.

  Carrie came up and gave me an uneasy smile. She was about five feet tall, with light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her face was rounded, her features soft and her brown eyes looked slightly haunted. She was wearing a floral blouse over slim, white three-quarter pants, and I could only think how conventional her dreams of married life must have been until her husband got caught up in a double murder. A slight pleading in her eyes and manner suggested she hoped I might be able to return their lives to normal.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Madison,” she said. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “No, thank you, Carrie. I’ve already had enough this morning.”

  She picked up the younger child and took the other by the hand. “This is Hannah,” she said of the younger girl on her hip. “And this is her big sister, Tracy.” Turning to Chip, she said, “I’ll leave you two to talk. Just call if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, hon.”

  The interaction between them was somewhat weary, as though it took all their mental effort to focus on the here and now.

  “Come on,” Carrie said to the children. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate and then we’ll finish off that puzzle.”

  The girls’ eyes lit up and they raced to the kitchen.

  Chip waved for me to follow him into the sitting room.

  “You’ve got a nice family,” I said as we sat on opposite brown leather sofas that were deep and soft. Both of us sat perched on the edges.

  “They’re everything to me.”

  “I’m sure they are. It must not be easy walking out the door to go do a high-risk job.”

  “That’s true. But unlike the Marines, I’m only gone for a day and I’m not fighting in a war.” His own words tripped him up. “At least, it never seemed like I was in a war until this shit happened.”

  “But you faced very real dangers.”

  “Yes, and especially lately. With all the other hold-ups and robberies going on, it seemed almost like it’d only be a matter of time before it would happen to us, to me.”

  “Chip, like I told you, I went and spoke to Detective Frierson.”

  Chip let out a huff. It was only natural to have a dislike for the man
who you suspected was hunting you down. “And what did he have to say? That he thinks I’m innocent, and that he’s got the real culprits in his sights?”

  “No. We both know he’s zeroing in on you.”

  “How could I have done it, Brad? How?”

  “Chip, don’t kid yourself. They can convince themselves that you did it. You had help—another insider or two—and you made it look like you were the victim.”

  “Is that what you believe?”

  “No, I don’t. You’ve told me you’re innocent, and I want you to keep convincing me.”

  “Then you don’t actually believe me.”

  “Chip, as much as I ask my clients to be honest with me, I rarely get the whole truth. Most times, I have to work off half-truths and gut instinct.”

  “And what does your gut tell you?”

  “That you’re very eager to make money.”

  “Who isn’t?”

  “That you’re willing to take a great deal of risk to make that money.”

  “The risk I’ve been taking is nothing compared to war. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

  “I do. But I also know how much we can miss war, Chip. All the modern comforts society offers can be almost suffocating to vets. The safety of civilian life can be confronting, oppressive even. I remember coming back from Afghanistan and lying in my bed feeling so snug and free from harm, it was like I was in the womb. And it was actually disturbing. Unless you’ve been to war, you can’t fathom how unsettling, how nauseating it can be to feel safe. That’s why a lot of vets act out. We lived hypervigilant lives to cope with violence and chaos. Then once the existential threat is gone, we create it for ourselves with substance abuse and violence.”

  This was partly an attempt to get Chip to level with me. He didn’t know what Frierson had told me, but I could see he was reading between the lines of what I was saying to him.

  “I know what you’re saying, but that’s not me. And that’s not why I took the job at HardShell. I liked the job, I was suited to it, it paid well, and I wanted the best for my kids.”

  “You’re working for their future?”

  “Of course. I’ve got college funds set up. I want them to have that opportunity if they want it.”

  “What’s this money that the cops have found?”

  Chip flinched ever so slightly, like he was surprised by my question. Then he looked annoyed. “No one was supposed to know about that money.”

  “How much is in there?”

  “Five hundred grand.”

  “What? Was it placed in that account after the robbery?”

  Looking deflated, Chip collapsed back in the sofa. I was disappointed. My client was looking guiltier by the minute. He looked around the room as though he was deciding whether to come clean and by how much. It was a look I’d seen a hundred times before and I didn’t like it. It was a look that told me I was about to hear some bullshit.

  “Yes, but Brad, I can explain,” he said with nerves tightening his voice. “That money was not from the heist. I swear. I just moved it around to make it easier to access.”

  “You mean easier to run.”

  “No, Brad. That’s not what it’s for.”

  “Well, that’s what it looks like. And now the cops have a pretty clear read on what went down. You survive an attack, a million dollars in cash goes missing and then exactly half of that appears in the kind of account that crooks use to hide ill-gotten money.”

  “It wasn’t—”

  “We’re not talking a checking account here, are we?”

  “No, it’s a crypto-account. You know, Bitcoin.”

  “But it’s an account you clearly thought the authorities wouldn’t find.”

  “How did they find it?”

  “They’re not stupid, Chip.”

  Chip looked away. “Scooter must have helped them,” he said ruefully.

  “Who’s Scooter?”

  “He’s the chief financial officer at HardShell. Because of all the problems with banking the proceeds of legal cannabis, he built a system where that cash can be banked with credit unions and then shuffled into crypto accounts. That way it’s safe.”

  “He does this for clients?”

  “Yes. He customizes a money chain for each client, if they want. It’s complicated but he makes it simple. He sets it all up, gives them a PIN and they can see where their money is and can access it whenever they want. And depending on the legitimacy of their funds, he provides various channels to back their money.”

  “And to hide it too, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “Sounds like this is a way to launder money.”

  “Right.”

  “Where did that five-hundred grand come from, Chip?”

  “Brad, I swear it wasn’t from the robbery. I swear I had nothing to do with it.”

  “But you said yourself you’re planning for your kids’ future. And you like risk. You’ve taken a shot at a huge pay day and thought you could get away with it.”

  “No.”

  “That’s what the cops are going to think. And you’d better start telling me a more convincing story.”

  “I’ve told you the truth, Brad. I didn’t do it.”

  My phone started ringing. I dug it out of my pocket and checked the screen. The caller ID was blocked. It could be important. I raised a finger at Chip as my thumb pressed down on the answer button.

  “Brad Madison,” I said.

  “Madison. Ed Frierson here. Where are you?”

  “I’m with a client.”

  “Well, I hope that client is Chip Bowman because we’ve got a warrant for his arrest. We’re on our way over.”

  “What about the media?” On the rare occasion I get a courtesy call from the cops about a client, it’s usually accompanied by a press release.

  “No one’s been told. We’re not looking to make a show. No press. We hit the road just as soon as the DA gave me the warrant. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

  “Got it,” I said casting a quick glance at Chip who was locked in on my conversation, looking panicked.

  I stood up.

  “He’s where he should be, I take it?” asked Frierson.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “Just make sure he doesn’t run, okay?”

  “We’ll be here.”

  I hung up and gave Chip the news. His anxiety went up a notch. He began pacing down the hall and back. Suddenly, he stopped dead still and wrung his hands over his head.

  “I can’t,” he said breathlessly. “I can’t. I didn’t do this. They’re going to come and cuff me in front of my kids.”

  “Chip, there’s not a lot of time. Go and speak with Carrie and tell her what’s going on. She can keep the girls inside when the cops come.”

  “They’re taking me to jail?”

  I nodded.

  “They’ll hold you until you have a bail hearing in a couple of days, and that’s when I’ll be asking them to release you back home. There’ll be some strict rules you’ll need to adhere to, but you’ll be back home in no time. Seventy-two hours tops.”

  I didn’t quite believe my own words. Given the charges would be felony murder and robbery, and that the judge would be informed of Chip’s hidden account, he was a strong flight risk. I was willing to bet I could get him bail, though, so long as he did what I said.

  Chip was pacing in front of me, limping slightly on his wounded leg.

  “Chip, go and speak to Carrie.”

  He went down the hall and I watched the two of them talk. Carrie burst into tears and hugged him. After a while she released him and walked up to me with a defiant look in her eye.

  “Mr. Madison,” she said. “You can’t let them do this. They were his friends that were killed. He would never do that.”

  “Carrie, I’ll do my best to get him back here soon. He’ll have a bail hearing, and you’ll be eating meals as a family right after. Okay?”


  “That’s bullshit, Madison,” hissed Chip. He was looking at me with fire in his eyes. Suddenly, I was not on his side. I was in on the conspiracy to pin this crime on him. “They’re not going to grant me bail, and you know it.”

  With that Chip grabbed Carrie, pulled her in tight, and pressed his lips against hers. “I love you,” he said. “Make sure the girls always know that I love them.”

  Carrie’s face contorted with confusion. She tried to hold her grip on Chip’s arms but he pushed her away and jogged for the back door, his limp even more pronounced.

  “Chip!” I yelled. “Don’t be a fool! Come back here!”

  At that moment, the doorbell rang.

  I heard Chip burst out the back door. I quickly moved to the kitchen to see him hobbling as best he could across the back yard.

  Frierson pounded on the door. I made no move to open it. The least I could do was buy Chip a little time, even though it was pointless.

  The next knocking rattled the door in its frame.

  “Chip Bowman. It’s the police. Open up or we’ll knock the door in!”

  I moved to the door and worked the deadlock open. As soon as there was the slightest gap, Detective Frierson and three other cops charged in.

  “Where is he?” Frierson demanded.

  “He’s on the john,” I said. “Can’t a guy take a dump in peace?”

  As Frierson stared at me in furious disbelief, the sound of yelling erupted from the back of the house. Actually, it was two men yelling the same word. A word the whole neighborhood would just about have heard clear as a bell.

  “Freeze!”

  Detective Frierson looked at me with disgust. “So you decided to help your piece of shit client to run. You’re just like the rest of them.”

  “I could say I tried to keep him here, but I doubt you’d believe me.”

  “No, I would not. You think we’re so stupid we wouldn’t have the back exit covered?”

  I shrugged. “No one likes being arrested, Frierson.”

  “Well, they shouldn’t go around killing people and stealing a million bucks.”