by Carsen Taite
The minute she was out of the room, Starr let loose on Nelson. “If you want to try my cases, then try them, but don’t undercut me and expect me to sell your decision to the victim’s family. You can explain to them why their daughter’s killer will be out before she would’ve turned forty.”
“Practicing the talking points for your campaign?”
“Hardly seems necessary. Actions like these speak for themselves, but if you try to pin this decision on me, mark my words, it will backfire.” Nelson raised his hands and mimicked shaking in fear while wearing a condescending smile. Starr wanted to punch him. “Maybe you should wait to celebrate,” she said. “Judge Westin may not accept the plea.”
“He will, trust me.”
Starr opened her mouth to tell him that if that was the case then he could just do the plea himself, but prudence stopped her. If Nelson took over her case mid-trial, he’d find a way to spin the plea and make her look weak in the process. She didn’t care what he thought of her, but she did care how potential voters would view how this case was handled. Better she handle the plea and engage in spin of her own. “Great. I just need a minute to talk to the family. Why don’t you start filling out the paperwork?”
She didn’t wait for an answer before smacking the file into his hand and striding out the door. She’d been bested from both within and without today, and she wasn’t used to losing.
Chapter Two
Catherine balanced a file box on her hip and pushed open the door to her office building. As the door opened, the box started to slide, but Doris Beechum, her assistant/office manager, rushed over to help. “You’re back early,” Doris said. “Judge Westin have a fire he needed to get to?”
Catherine let Doris take control of the heavy box, knowing it was useless to protest. “Trial’s over. Mr. Knoll is doing ten years.”
Doris gave a low whistle. “Ten years. How did he take it?”
“Like the gift it was.” Catherine pointed at her office door. “I need a few minutes. Anything urgent before I go into lockdown?”
Doris hesitated for a moment, and then shook her head. “Nothing that can’t wait.” Catherine started to walk away, but Doris called out after her. “That woman phoned again. The one whose son is charged with online solicitation of a child. I keep telling her you’re not interested, but she insists if she could just talk to you, woman to woman, you would change your mind.”
Catherine rubbed her forehead. “Block her if you have to. Just make her go away.” She made her way to her office, ignoring Doris who stared after her. Catherine was well aware she was the only attorney in Travis regularly handling felony cases who wouldn’t accept any cases involving child abuse, a fact Doris had never pretended to understand. The truth was most practices couldn’t afford to turn them down as they often garnered lucrative fees and were more common than one would hope. But she couldn’t afford to take them, even if it meant her staff thought she was crazy for turning away the business. For her part, she wondered why the calls continued to come in considering the rest of the bar knew her rule and didn’t refer these cases to her, but idle curiosity about how these defendants found her wasn’t strong enough to compel her to actually meet with the accused.
In her office, Catherine typed out a closing memo to the Knoll file. She followed this same practice with every case, meticulously detailing the entire proceeding, from intake to resolution, while it was all fresh in her mind. She recalled with vivid memory her first meeting with Peter Knoll. She’d suspected his guilt at the time, but she’d also relished the opportunity to best Detective Reese on the stand. Knoll had gotten less than he’d deserved and Detective Reese would likely escape with a slap on the wrist, but she’d done her part to make sure the system worked—her singular goal.
When she finally finished the memo, it was dark outside. Conscious that Doris would still be waiting, she closed the file on Knoll and gathered some work to take home. “Let’s go,” she called out as she neared the door, slowing just enough to allow Doris time to follow. She’d stopped telling Doris that she didn’t have to stay late years ago when she figured out Doris Beechum was going to do what she wanted no matter what Catherine said. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Doris had spent years in the employ of the attorney who’d previously owned this practice, and when Catherine had inherited the business, she’d kept Doris on precisely because of her strong will and no-nonsense attitude. Doris was at once fiercely loyal, but extremely professional and circumspect—a combination that assured Catherine her personal privacy would never be violated.
Secretly, she was grateful for the company as they walked toward the back of the building in the still quiet of the night to where her vehicle was parked. The area was well lit—she’d overseen the installation of the floodlights herself—but she wasn’t in the habit of relying on others to keep her secure. She mentally counted the steps to her parking space by tapping her fingers on the keys in her pocket. She waved good-bye to Doris who peeled off toward her own car, but waited until she was inches from the door of her sedan before clicking the button on the key fob. She cracked the door and stared inside, taking in every detail, before climbing behind the wheel. She pulled the door firmly to and engaged the locks.
She was only a few blocks away from the office when she realized she was starving. She ran through a mental inventory of her fridge which didn’t take long since she hadn’t shopped during the trial. Spotting Guero’s up ahead on the left, she made a snap decision to grab dinner out, a celebration of sorts. She could work over dinner.
“How many in your party?” the perky hostess asked, making Catherine wish she’d gone through a drive-thru. She looked over at the bar. “I can order over there, right?”
“Sure,” Perky replied, handing her a menu.
The bartender was much more laid-back. He took her order for a Tecate and delivered it without any embellishment. Deciding to indulge, she placed an order for fajita nachos, and while she waited for her food, she glanced through the long list of emails that had gathered in her inbox. She was barely through the first page of messages, when someone settled into the seat beside her.
“Celebrating?”
Starr Rio looked like a completely different person with her dark hair cascading around her shoulders instead of pulled back into a French twist. She’d shed her suit jacket, and her royal blue blouse was less buttoned up than it had been in the courtroom, not to mention the color made her blue eyes pop. The entire effect was sexy, and Catherine was momentarily without words. She recovered quickly. “Are you?”
“Why can’t you just answer the question, counselor?” Starr said with an edge in her voice. She swallowed a draught from a glass of amber liquid and set it down hard on the bar. “I will. No, I don’t have anything to celebrate.”
Catherine looked around the room, wishing she’d chosen to sit in the dining room where it wouldn’t be socially acceptable for someone to plunk down next to her. Doing battle in the courtroom was one thing, but she had no desire to rehash the confrontation in public. Yet Starr’s inability to see that she’d deserved the loss nagged and she couldn’t quite let it go. “You were lucky to get a plea.”
“Really? I stuck around to talk to the jury. They weren’t as impressed with your cross-examination of Detective Reese as you and Nelson. I think if we’d let this go all the way, they might’ve sent Knoll away for a very long time.”
Catherine shrugged. Jurors often liked to pontificate when they were no longer bound to follow the rules of evidence, which was why she rarely bothered to talk to them after a trial. “Maybe, but your victory would’ve been short-lived.” She started to say more, but the bartender appeared with her nachos.
“Those look amazing,” Starr said.
Catherine resisted the urge to pull her plate closer. “I’m sure they have more.”
Starr leaned back in her chair, obviously reading the rebuke. “I’m sure they do, but I couldn’t possibly eat all that.” She grimaced. “Sorry, I did
n’t mean that the way it sounded. There’s nothing wrong with eating a full plate of nachos. I’ve done it many times, it’s just—”
“Stop.” Catherine pushed the plate so it was centered between them. “I couldn’t possibly eat all these either. Have some.”
“If you’re sure.”
Catherine nodded unable to keep from matching Starr’s grin. She filled Starr’s plate and watched while she dug in. “You must really like nachos.”
“I like food of all kinds, but nachos are definitely high on the list. These are especially good.”
“I know, right?”
Starr wiped her mouth with the napkin. “Okay, you were schooling me when the food arrived. Care to continue?”
Catherine did a quick rewind and remembered what she’d been about to say. It felt kind of petty now since they were sharing food, but she didn’t want Starr to get the impression just because they were breaking bread they were no longer adversaries, although the way that Starr scrunched her eyes every time she took a bite of nachos was way more endearing than she’d like to admit. “We were talking about the trial. If the jury had found my client guilty, you and I both know an appellate court wouldn’t uphold the conviction.”
Starr crunched on a chip. “Not necessarily.”
“Did you know about the rope?” Catherine lobbed the question and held her breath. She wasn’t sure what she expected Starr to say. If she admitted she’d known Reese was lying, she’d be complicit as well.
“I knew the evidence wasn’t conclusive.”
“That’s a fancy way of saying you knew your star witness was a liar.”
“Reese isn’t a bad cop. Besides, we both know Knoll was guilty or he wouldn’t have taken the plea.”
Starr punctuated her remark by taking another bite of nachos, stoking Catherine’s anger. “Some day your methods are going to bite you in the ass.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Starr said.
“I do, actually. Everyone knows you like to bend the rules to get your way.”
“‘My way’? I think what you really mean to say is that I will do whatever it takes to make sure that bad guys like your client don’t go free so they can commit new crimes.”
Catherine took a drink from her beer and appraised Starr. She was passionate, for sure, but it wasn’t the kind of passionate protest that came from being overly defensive. She seemed to really believe she was doing the right thing. Catherine wasn’t sure if that made her more dangerous or less, but she was tired of talking about it. “Let’s agree to disagree. There’ll be plenty more cases to haggle over in the future.”
The frown fell away from Starr’s expression and she tilted her glass toward Catherine’s beer. “Truth. Here’s to future fights.”
Catherine barely met the toast. She set her glass down and picked up her phone, hoping Starr would take the hint, finish her food, and leave. No such luck.
“Why have we never been up against each other before?”
Catherine didn’t look up from her phone screen. “I have no idea.”
“Rumor has it you don’t take child abuse cases. Is that true?”
“Is there something you want to know?”
“Pardon?”
Catherine flicked her hand in the air between them. “We’re not friends and I’m not in the habit of engaging in idle conversation with strangers. I have work to do, so perhaps you could find someone else to chat with. Take the nachos. I’ve lost my appetite.” She saw Starr work to quickly cover her shocked expression, but she didn’t care. Starr was just one more in a string of people who wanted to know the real story behind attorney Catherine Landauer, but Catherine wasn’t falling for the casual good ole girl conversation. She reached into her bag and pulled out some papers just as the bartender reappeared.
“How is everything? Do you want to order more food?” He’d directed his question to both of them, but Catherine rushed to answer first. “I’m good.” She pulled her plate closer and huddled around it, using her papers as a shield.
Starr pushed her plate away and swallowed the contents of her glass. She set it on the bar with a thud. “Like the lady said, we’re good. Real good,” she said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a tip and set it on the bar. “Enjoy your dinner, Catherine.” She was on the move as she delivered the farewell, and Catherine tried hard not to watch her depart, but she failed. Starr intrigued her, despite her bravado, and a tiny part of her wanted to engage further, but she knew better than to risk casual conversation, especially with anyone who worked at the courthouse. When the bartender returned to ask her if she’d like another drink, she pointed at Starr’s empty glass. “What was she drinking?”
“Bourbon. Balcones, it’s a local brand.”
“Pour me a glass, please,” she asked before she could rethink the decision. She doubted Starr would ever talk to her again, and she doubted if she’d ever want to, but if the occasion arose, they could swap whiskey stories. Catherine was used to inventing details to discuss that would keep her from having to disclose truths about her life.
* * *
Starr spent the drive home with Catherine Landauer’s accusation weighing heavily on her mind. She didn’t have any regrets about the way she’d handled the Knoll case, so she wasn’t sure why she’d let Catherine’s comments get under her skin. She had no proof Reese had planted evidence. Certainly, he’d mishandled it, but that was up to a jury to decide. If anything, she wished Nelson hadn’t forced a plea because she was confident she could’ve delivered a closing argument strong enough to blow past any doubts about Reese’s sloppy evidence handling, leaving the jury with no choice but to put Knoll away for much longer than the seven years he’d gotten. Catherine had to know the guy was a total creep and society was better off with him behind bars.
Starr shook her head. She’d expected she and Catherine could put their work aside and share a friendly drink outside the courthouse like she did with other defense attorneys, but the rumors about Catherine were true—she was all work and no play. Too bad, because she was smart and gorgeous, the perfect package. Given the opportunity, Starr would’ve liked to share more than nachos with her, but clearly that was never going to happen.
She drove up to her house and pulled in the driveway. It wasn’t late, but it was pitch-black outside and she was grateful for the motion-sensitive light over the garage. As she drew closer, she spotted someone lurking in the shadows. She reached into the console between the seats to make sure her gun was where she’d left it, and she grabbed her phone, ready to dial 911. She cracked the car window and shouted. “You have five seconds to get the hell away from my front door.” She let hang the “or what” part of her statement, not interested in signaling she had her own firepower. She reached a silent count of three before a hulking form stepped out of the shadows.
“Pearson, is that you?” She shut the car off and lowered the window all the way down. “I almost shot your ass,” she said as he strode up to her car window. “What are you doing here?”
“Need to talk to you about a warrant, Starr. Can I come in?”
Detective Jack Pearson worked the child abuse unit for the Austin Police Department, and they’d become good friends during the time Starr had led the unit at the DA’s office. She missed seeing him on the daily, but as relieved as she was to see him instead of a burglar, she couldn’t help him out. “I can’t be grabbing warrants for you, Jack. Nelson will have my hide if he finds out I’m stepping on Pam’s toes,” she said, referring to the current head of the child abuse unit.
“I doubt Nelson will have anything to say about it. Murphy himself sent me to you. We’ve got a brewing situation and I need your help right now. Sorry, I know you probably didn’t plan on working tonight.”
She hadn’t planned on working tonight, but it wasn’t like she was celebrating either. Her “win” in the courtroom today wasn’t a victory for anyone but Knoll, and it still galled her, especially since Catherine Landauer didn�
��t even have the decency to be gracious about the generous plea offer. Maybe work was what she needed to cool the sting of Catherine’s rebuff. “Come on in. Least I can do is make you a cup of coffee since you came all the way out here.”
She led the way to the door. Pearson lived in the northern Austin suburb of Georgetown, a fact she’d needled him about plenty of times before. He’d protested that the housing prices were high in Austin proper, but she suspected that he enjoyed the more laid-back vibe and law-and-order feel of the smaller town. Either way, he’d have a long drive home at the end of the night, and she could offer him the courtesy of hearing him out. “Have a seat.” She pointed at the kitchen table. “How are Liza and the kids?”
Jack rubbed his eyes. “Liza’s great. Just got a promotion at the hospital. But the kids are growing up too fast. I don’t know how to stop it though.”
“Nothing you can do,” Starr said. She pressed the button on the electric kettle and spooned coffee into the French press. While she waited for the water to boil, she slid into the seat across from him. “You look worried. Is it the kids?”
“Yes and no. I mean Jack Jr. and Macy are great now, but if I could lock them away until they turn thirty, I’m pretty sure I would do it.” He leaned in, his brow furrowed. “A kid went missing this afternoon. On her way home from school. One minute she was walking down the street, talking to one of her friends. They get to her friend’s house and the friend goes inside, while the girl keeps walking. Friend looks out the window and sees the girl talking to someone in a pickup, and she hasn’t been seen since.”
“White pickup?”
Pearson looked surprised. “Yes, how did you know?”
“Amber alert. Saw it on the way home.”
Pearson nodded. “I didn’t know it was posted yet, but it doesn’t surprise me. Yes, it was a medium-sized, white pickup, and that’s about all we have as far as a description goes. When she didn’t show up at home, the girl’s mother called the friend, who told her what she’d seen, and here we are.”
