Читать книгу Line of Fire - Julie Leto - Страница 8

P UKA BEADS . Even close up, Adam Guthrie had trouble believing that the necklace the prim defense attorney wore was not pearls, as he had assumed. When she’d approached the bench to question him during the farce of a hearing he’d just left, he’d fallen hook, line and sinker for her ultraprofessional, “never a hair out of place” persona. Same for every other time they’d crossed paths, he as the chief of detectives for the Courage Bay police department and she as the defense attorney from hell. But after her first two questions, he’d been too enraged by her legal wrangling to evaluate her jewelry.

She’d torn him apart.

More specifically, she’d ripped his department’s case to shreds and maneuvered the release of a dangerous criminal—George Yube. But out here in the hallway of the Courage Bay County Courthouse, waiting for reporters to disperse so he could speak his mind without having his words quoted in the newspaper, he took the time to notice everything about her.

Trying to ignore Faith Lawton had become a hobby for him, particularly after she’d shown up at the police station a few years ago as attorney of record for a perp he’d personally collared. With honey-blond hair that fell in long, soft wisps to her straight, level shoulders, Faith Lawton had arrested his interest at first glance—and he wasn’t wrangling for a reprieve anytime soon. Her steel-gray eyes spoke to him, but usually the message ran along the lines of don’t mess with me or I’ll eat you for lunch.

Luckily for him, Adam brimmed with gristle and bone. She’d have a hard time sinking her teeth through his hide the second time around.

“Ms. Lawton, may I have a word?” He touched her shoulder. Big mistake. Even though her pale yellow suit looked sturdy enough, the delicate rustle of the material against his fingers brought sensual thoughts to mind that Chief of Detectives Adam Guthrie had no business entertaining about intrepid defense attorney Faith Lawton.

She finished her polished answer to a reporter’s question, then spared him a glance over her shoulder. “I have no interest in enduring another dressing-down by you outside the courtroom, Detective Guthrie,” she answered.

Okay, so he’d lost his temper during her questioning. She’d let him rant for a full minute or so before she’d objected to Judge Craven, who, with a powerless shrug, had sustained the motion. Adam should have known she’d make him look a tad too anxious to do his job—like a vigilante, even. She had a knack for using a person’s strengths against them.

“I have no interest in dressing you down, Ms. Lawton. I simply want a word.”

With a small grin to the crowd and a whisper to her assistant—who scurried toward the processing area, no doubt to ensure that Yube didn’t walk one step into freedom without his legal representative at his side—she motioned toward an unused courtroom on the other side of the hall.

The minute Adam shut the door, she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned cockily against the back of a chair, her weight on one hip. “If you’re not going to yell at me for freeing yet another of the alleged criminals your department has arrested, what do you want?”

Her skin gleamed, and not only from anticipation of the pending confrontation, Adam figured. It was obvious that underneath her perfect makeup, the attorney sported a healthy tan. He couldn’t resist speculation about her recreational activities. Her sharp mind and devotion to the art of legal defense sent many of his law enforcement colleagues running to cut a deal the minute she took on a case. And worse, when she did go to trial, she won nearly every time.

This particularly didn’t sit well with Courage Bay’s new chief of detectives. All citizens of the county deserved competent legal defense, but when Faith got someone off, she usually did so by exposing a flaw within the very system Adam had devoted his life to.

Just as she had today. Thanks to Faith Lawton, Dr. George Yube was currently in another part of the building, being processed for release. Never mind that he’d tried to kill Lauren Conway by setting her workplace on fire, tampering with her brakes and, when all else failed, shooting her in the shoulder. Never mind that thirty-two years ago, the former chief of staff at Courage Bay Hospital had drunk too much as a resident moonlighting in the emergency room, botched a difficult delivery that resulted in the death of a baby, then switched several children in their cribs to avoid exposure, not to mention ugly, career-ending lawsuits. The man had spit in the face of his Hippocratic oath, and yet in less than ten minutes, he’d walk out of this courthouse and most likely never face prosecution for his crimes. All thanks to Faith Lawton.

Adam shoved his hands into his pockets. He should be furious with her. He should give her a rerun delivery of his mantra on the importance of maintaining justice in a civilized society. He should tell her the latest “lawyers are carcass eating vultures” joke.

But instead, he captured her I-dare-you glare with a steady stare of his own.

“You should be a cop.”

“Excuse me?”

“Internal affairs. Maybe you could teach a course at the Academy. You have a knack for spotting weaknesses in the chain of evidence.”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “Only because your department mishandles evidence on too many cases. Not to mention search warrants, Miranda rights and—what was it that one time? Oh yeah, a coerced confession.”

He nodded, unable to disagree. A police department was only as by-the-book as the people who ran the show. Except for this botched arrest with Yube, all of the other breakdowns in procedure had occurred before Adam had taken over as chief. Not that the timing mattered to the courts. Faith had argued two cases recently where the Courage Bay police department had bungled its job. First, with convicted murderer Felix Moody’s appeal three months ago, and now with Yube.

God, they’d been good to go! An ironclad case. Two eyewitnesses. A gun. A receipt for the purchase of gasoline used in the arson attempt. Even photographs of a burn Yube had suffered while cutting the brake line on Lauren Conway’s car.

Then Faith had discovered a fatal flaw in the chain of evidence—one that Adam, much to his consternation, hadn’t known existed. On the same night George Yube had attacked and shot Lauren Conway, Detective Paul Jerado had lost his son to suicide. The boy’s body hadn’t been found until after Jerado had gathered all the evidence from the crime scene; he’d been en route to deliver the proof to the department when he received the call about his son.

He’d immediately rerouted, as any father would. The entire department had been shocked and grieved by the boy’s death. Josh Jerado had been a fixture at the police station, sometimes doing his homework at his father’s desk while Paul worked overtime on a case. After the suicide, there had been a thorough investigation to rule out foul play, a vigil, a memorial, a mass, a funeral. At one point or another, every member of the department had spent time with the Jerado family. And without anyone realizing, the evidence had sat in the back of Jerado’s car for two days.

Two days. Forty-eight hours of opportunity for the evidence to be tampered with or otherwise compromised. Under Faith’s questioning, Jerado admitted that he had logged the evidence in quietly after his son’s funeral, and not until today’s hearing had anyone, including Adam, known about the mishandling.

Adam couldn’t harbor anger toward Paul Jerado, not after the horrible loss he’d suffered—still suffered from, in Adam’s opinion. When Adam returned to the precinct, he’d order an immediate leave of absence and counseling for his friend and colleague. But despite his pleas to Judge Craven to give him and prosecutor Henry Lalane more time to reconstruct the case before he ruled on the motion for dismissal, Adam had realized Yube would walk. Without the evidence, the most they had him on was assault, a far cry from attempted first-degree murder. Faith’s discrediting of the physical evidence destroyed Adam’s chance to see justice served. A very bad man, a baby-murdering liar, was about to walk free, and Adam didn’t much care if the letter of the law had been on Faith’s side. The spirit of the law had, with one ruling, flown the coop.

And though Adam hadn’t overseen the investigation, the failure chapped his ass like wearing shorts in the summertime for a weekend ride on his brother’s hog. First, Moody. Now, Yube. And in both cases, Faith had been right.

“New procedures are in place since I took over, Counselor. Mistakes you’ve taken advantage of in the past will not be a problem in the future. If I have my way, I’m going to put you out of a job, at least in this county.”

She narrowed her eyes, but the slits of silver didn’t brim with the anger and resentment he had expected. In fact, the quirk of her generous lips hinted at humor.

“I’ll be the first person to buy you a beer if you do.”

She uncrossed her arms and dropped her hands to her sides, forcing Adam to note that she wore her skirts pretty damn short. Her fingertips, painted a subdued tone in that popular pink-and-white nail-polish style, barely reached the hem. He might have taken an extra minute to admire the smooth length of her legs, but the sweep of her gaze down his body distracted him.

Wait. She was checking him out?

He sucked the side of his cheek into his mouth to keep from grinning like a puffed-up fool. “See something interesting?”

She cleared her throat, then met his stare with that steely coolness that won her the respect of judges, juries and prosecutors alike. Particularly the male ones. “Every time I run into you, Guthrie.”

With a laugh he figured she was aiming at herself, she took a step back.

“Look, you’re a good cop. And contrary to popular belief, I do appreciate men in blue.”

Her gaze swept from his face to his shoulders to his legs. His suit was indeed a dark shade of navy—one of the dozen more expensive outfits he’d been forced to buy after his promotion. He hadn’t thought much about how he actually looked in the getup, but when Faith released a nearly inaudible sigh, he decided to send the store’s tailor a six-pack.

“Lawyers in yellow aren’t bad, either.”

She sashayed toward him and gave him a friendly punch in the arm as if they’d been friends since childhood. Actually, he’d known of her since high school. They’d never run in the same circles, but Courage Bay, California, was not a metropolis. She’d moved to a neighborhood not far from his in the midsize coastal community just before Adam graduated, and if he remembered correctly, she was nearly the same age as his younger brother, Casey.

“That you can dole out a compliment after I mopped the floor with your investigation in the courtroom says a lot about you, Guthrie.”

He chuckled. “I hope it says you’re ready for another fight. I’m not done with Yube.”

She made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Have at him. If he’s guilty, gather the evidence and prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt. But let’s be clear—” she leaned in close, so that the delicate scent of her perfume teased his nostrils “—harassment won’t be tolerated. So long as Yube is my client, I’ll be watching how the police treat him.”

Adam inhaled, trying to identify the slight fruity scent that emanated from her skin. “I will see to it personally that all his rights are observed, Counselor. Until I can take his rights away, that is.”

“Legally, of course.”

“Of course.”

She backed up. “So, is that all? Because my client has probably been processed by now, and I need to make sure he gets to his car without being accosted by a mob. People don’t like him much.”

Adam rolled his eyes. There wasn’t much to like about the lying, cheating, murderous creep, even if the soft-spoken old man did remind Adam of his grandfather. Looks could be damn deceiving.

Still, with Faith Lawton playing watchdog, Adam would have to remind his men to act professionally. The prosecutor, District Attorney Henry Lalane, hadn’t yet committed to refiling charges against Yube, perhaps for simple assault, but Adam wasn’t giving up hope.

“People don’t like your client? Imagine that.”

She shook her head and gave a frustrated sigh, letting him know that his lame attempt at humor had likely been heard a million times before. Defense attorneys, for the most part, got a bad rap. Some deserved the jokes and loathing, and others, like Faith, took full advantage when cops like him didn’t do their jobs right. She was the balance that checked the system of U.S. justice. She wasn’t right all the time, but then, neither was he.

The minute he opened the door, he heard the surge of excitement thrill through the crowd. Without hesitation, Faith burrowed into the tide of people rushing toward another door down the hall. Yube was likely on his way out. Adam hung back, turning his head when the burst of camera flashes and the glare of lights blocked his view. Damn circus. Where was security? Probably lost in the shuffle, just like everything else today.

“Win some, lose some” came a voice at his side, but Adam didn’t have to turn to identify the speaker.

“You’re awfully complacent, Lalane. I thought you didn’t like losing.”

“I hate it. That’s why I usually don’t take cases I can’t win. You really didn’t know about the evidence?”

Stomach acid churned in Adam’s gut, sending a hot shot of frustration up his throat. “Of course not.”

“How did Faith Lawton find out about Jerado?”

Adam shook his head, confident an internal investigation would expose the source. At the moment, he concentrated on the fact that the skin on the back of his neck prickled. The energy in the crowd intensified. Adam watched a line of additional security guards and uniformed police make their way toward Yube and Faith, but he still crossed his arms over his chest and slipped one hand beneath his lapel, his piece close at hand.

“We could have won this one. We had solid evidence.” Adam kept his voice low, though the power of containing his frustration made his teeth hurt. But he stopped his rant before he got started. Again. He’d tried to explain in the courtroom, tried to make the judge understand that Detective Jerado’s mishandling of the evidence hadn’t changed the results—the evidence was still ironclad, even if it had sat unattended for two days. No one could prove if it had or hadn’t been tampered with. In the rational part of his brain, Adam knew the facts didn’t matter. The evidence hadn’t been handled correctly. But his gut still ached from the injustice.

“Like I said, ‘win some, lose some.’” Henry adjusted the belt that secured his pants below a slightly protruding gut. He hand-combed his thinning gray hair and winked a sharp eye that matched his devilish grin. “Buy you a beer?”

Adam snorted. “It’s four-thirty in the afternoon.”

“Hell, Adam, it’s seven-thirty in New York City, Washington D.C., and Miami. Pick a metropolis. We’ll pretend we’re there and cut loose for an afternoon. We deserve it.”

Bit by bit, courthouse security thinned the crowd. Then Adam noted more people pouring in from outside, barely clearing security before they dashed toward Faith and Yube. Through the sea of dark-colored clothing, Adam caught a golden flash of Faith. She had a hand on Yube’s arm and was maneuvering him toward a reporter with a feed from CNN.

“Damn, she killed us,” Henry said, his voice sounding appropriately miffed for the first time since the judge had dismissed the charges.

Adam shook his head emphatically. “No, the only killer around here is Yube. She just added another section to our manual on processing evidence in an emergency situation.”

The crowd swelled again, and when Faith pressed through with Yube on one side and her assistant on the other, Adam had had enough. Heading toward them, he pulled out his cell phone and used the walkie-talkie feature to call for backup, then made his way through the swarm of lookers-on, reporters and various other courtroom clingers, and tugged at Faith’s jacket.

He jerked his head and she seemed to understand that their attempt to leave wasn’t going as it should. She pulled Yube toward her, but lost her assistant temporarily in the melee.

“The crowd’s just as bad behind us!” she shouted. “What’s going on? Where’s Security?”

“Overwhelmed, more than likely. Word must have traveled fast.” To retain a better hold on her, he slipped his hand around her waist. The intimate move made her eyes flash in warning.

“Just give me a second,” Adam insisted. “I’ll get you out.”

In ten minutes, the uniforms had the hallway cleared. The reporters had been ordered off the premises, relegated to the bottom of the limestone steps just below the expansive courtyard and plaza. The neck-craning citizens had been told to get on with their business or move along—and most had dispersed without argument. The hall still wasn’t quiet, as county employees milled toward the exits at the end of the workday, but at least they could talk without yelling.

“We can escort you out the back, then send someone for your vehicles later,” Adam suggested, noting how the hectic quality of the moment had brought a slight sheen to Faith’s skin.

She seemed to consider the suggestion, but Yube, who’d remained judiciously quiet until now, spoke up. “I’d rather go out the front doors, Faith. I’ve been exonerated.” He pointed his gaze directly at Adam and Henry. “I want everyone to see I’m a free man.”

Henry slipped his hands into his pockets and turned his head away. Adam could taste the prosecutor’s anger as bitterly as he could taste his own, but he swallowed his rancor and focused on the matter at hand.

“Your choice, Mr. Yube.”

“Dr. Yube,” the man corrected, his eyes staring daggers.

As if he had any right to still call himself a physician! Adam opened his mouth, but Faith silenced him before he had a chance to give the murderous son of a bitch a piece of his mind.

“Just let’s get out of here, George,” Faith insisted to her client. “Roma?”

Faith’s assistant disconnected her ear from her cell phone. Pretty, young and Hispanic, she glowed, apparently feeding off Faith’s approval. “I checked your messages. Nothing that can’t wait until morning. I also cancelled your five-thirty and rescheduled for tomorrow at nine. Ready to go?”

Roma’s wide brown eyes darted among the party, seemingly oblivious in her youthfulness to the tension crackling around her. Adam figured the girl was fresh out of law school, no more than twenty-four, and likely hadn’t even taken the bar exam, much less passed it.

“Yes,” Faith answered, then nodded toward Henry and Adam. “Mr. Lalane, Detective Guthrie. It’s been a pleasure.”

She marched toward the doors, her assistant struggling to keep up on her pointy high-heeled shoes, and Yube strutting with an arrogant confidence that made Adam’s blood boil.

“So, you in for the brewski or what?” Henry asked.

Adam was severely tempted. When he’d woken up this morning and gone for his run, he’d jogged an extra mile, thanks to the added energy of knowing Yube’s hearing would go their way. He’d never imagined that a distraught detective’s actions would blow this case to shreds. Faith might have been right to question the chain of evidence, and the law might have supported her contention that the lack of control over the evidence made its veracity suspect, but damn, didn’t she realize she’d just helped a baby-killer go free?

“Faith!” he shouted, before he knew why he’d called her by her first name or what he would say to her if she stopped. He jogged toward her.

Yube and Roma continued toward the wide glass doors while Faith paused, turning on her spiked high heel. “Yes, Detective?”

He didn’t stop until her face was inches from his. “This is wrong. You know that, right?”

She let out an exasperated breath and turned away, continuing toward her client, who’d stopped to allow an elderly woman to pass through the door in front of him.

“Thought you weren’t going to berate me, Detective,” she reminded him, her tone curt. She caught up to her client, but declined his gestured invitation for her to exit first. Typical. The woman probably didn’t like guys opening car doors for her, either.

“I’m not berating,” Adam said, much more insistent than Yube when it was her time to walk outside. He followed her through the glass doors. Okay, he’d lost this case. He might not have the chance to contribute to making Yube really pay for his heinous crimes against this community and the families his lies and schemes had ripped apart, but maybe he could convince Faith to work for him, rather than against him. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it wasn’t bad. “I’m appealing to your sense of justice.”

That stopped her dead. She rounded on him slowly, her eyes squinting against the reflection of the sun on the limestone plaza outside the courthouse. “My sense of—”

The last word of her protest vanished under a loud crack, a sound Adam reacted to without thought, reason or logic—just instinct. He grabbed Faith by the arms and shoved her toward the nearest wall, glancing over his shoulder long enough to witness people on the plaza screaming, running haphazardly, standing still as statues in shock, or dropping to the ground for cover.

Someone had fired into the crowd. Adam didn’t know who had been the target, but his stomach tightened. If he didn’t act fast, someone would end up very, very dead.