I got my gun and hurried out to Michelle. I whispered, “I’ll be right inside my office. Pick up your phone and dial 9-1. If anything looks funny, hit the other 1 and leave the line open. I’ll come out and hold them off.”
Michelle nodded. I stood against the wall in my office and held my gun next to my chest with both hands. I heard her hit the buzzer. The door opened. A skinny, long-haired boy who looked about seventeen and a girl who looked to be maybe twenty walked in. They both bore a stunning resemblance to Scott. I checked their hands for weapons. I didn’t see any, but the girl had her right hand in the pocket of her hoodie.
I came out with my gun behind my back just as Alex came out of his office. The two backed up and gave us wary looks. The boy spoke first. “Scott said to just show you the phone. He said you couldn’t have it yet.”
I looked at the girl’s right hand and lowered the gun to my side. “Let’s see that hand. Slowly.”
Her eyes got as wide as silver dollars when she saw my gun. She slowly pulled out her hand. Which was holding the cell phone. Alex and I moved forward. She took a step back. “D-don’t try anything.”
I rolled my eyes. “We’re not trying anything. How can we tell if that’s the phone if you don’t let us see it?”
It was a flip phone. She opened it, punched a couple of keys, and held it up so we could see the screen. It showed Chloe and Paige, their arms around each other, in glittery party hats that said HAPPY NEW YEAR! The girl lowered the phone, tapped another key, and held it up again. It showed Chloe lying on the couch, a script in her lap, her palm held out at the camera in a “Stop” sign. I recognized the couch as the one that’d been in their apartment.
Screw these bullshit games. I should just take the damn thing. I had a gun and they didn’t. I took a step toward them, but the girl dropped the phone into her pocket, backed up to the door, and opened it. She was about to bolt. I couldn’t shoot her, and I didn’t want to get caught chasing her down the hall trying to tackle her. “Fine. But tell your brother if that phone isn’t on my desk the minute I substitute in, I’ll dump his case and tell the DA he did the burglary.”
They nodded and ran out the door. I noticed they didn’t deny being Scott’s siblings. I went back to my office and put my gun away.
Alex followed me into my office. “That was a flip phone.”
“Yeah. I would’ve thought she’d have something newer.”
“Not if it’s a burner.”
I stared at Alex. A burner is what you get when you want privacy, when you don’t want cell-phone records that show who owns the phone. You know, in case someone’s wife decides to check his cell-phone bill.
FORTY-FIVE
It took Michelle two days to get Scott’s case on calendar. I made sure to be in court early so I could work out a deal with the DA. I was anxious to get this over with. Dale’s trial was starting tomorrow, and I wanted to spend the day getting ready.
But the courtroom was packed and Walt Carbahal, the senior prosecutor, had a line of lawyers waiting to talk to him. I sat down in the jury box and pulled out the police reports on Scott’s case. There wasn’t much to barter with. The traffic stop looked clean, the K-9 search was okay, and the cop read Scott his rights. The only thing I had in my favor was that a jury might think it was a waste of their time.
A young guy with military-short hair, wearing a navy-blue suit that looked like it’d been his big brother’s, called out, “People v. Scott Henderson.”
I held up my hand. “Over here.”
He came over in quick, officious strides, a case file under his arm. “I’m Paul Wesson. I’ll be handling this case for the prosecution. I understand you’re substituting in?”
Oh God, help me. A newbie. I should’ve said no and gotten the hell out of there. But I didn’t. I stupidly ignored my better instincts and introduced myself. “Shall we talk dispo? It’s only five grams and he doesn’t have a bad rec-”
“I’m not interested in making any deals. Mr. Henderson has already had the benefit of too many deals. Unless he wants to plead to the sheet, we’ll have to set this case for trial.”
I stared at him. “Seriously? Are you an intern or something?”
Paul reddened. “No. I’m a deputy district attorney, Grade One.”
Even worse. A baby DA who wanted to prove how tough he was. “Look, Paul. I know you want to make a good impression. Good for you. But no one’s going to thank you for taking up court time on a piddly case like this.”
He straightened his tie. “I don’t consider a felony quantity of cocaine to be a piddly case. That’s how the drug trade proliferates, by us not taking these cases seriously enough-”
“Then you’re going to have a long wait on your hands, because I’m starting trial on the Pearson case tomorrow.”
Paul started to say something, but the judge called for the bailiff to bring out the custodies. After a case is sent out to a trial court, the only place to put inmates is in the jury box. So I got up and moved out to join the throng on the defense side of the courtroom.
Scott smiled when he saw me, and I went over to give him the bad news. “We got stuck with a newbie DA who’s hot to go to trial.”
He swallowed hard. “He won’t give me a deal? He has to! I can’t do time! I’ll die in there!”
I was skeptical. “What, are you claustrophobic or something? ’Cause you’re certainly not big-time enough to have that kind of enemy.”
Scott looked frantic. “I can’t be in there-”
The judge called out, “People v. Scott Henderson. I understand Mr. Henderson has retained private counsel?”
I moved back to counsel table thinking I could still bail on this case. But then I’d never know what was on that damn phone. “Yes, Your Honor. Samantha Brinkman appearing for Scott Henderson.”
Paul Wesson stood up. “Your Honor, I oppose this substitution. Ms. Brinkman just told me she won’t be able to take this case to trial for months. She’s on the Pearson case and-”
The judge gave him a weary look. “Yes, Mr. Wesson. We all know what case she’s on. Don’t worry, I strongly suspect we’ll find something else to do in the meantime.” The judge gave me an imploring look. “Can’t we dispo this case? It’s five grams of cocaine.”
“I tried, Your Honor. But Mr. Wesson seems adamant about taking this case to trial.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Walt watching us. When I glanced at him, I saw he had a mischievous grin. The evil douche had deliberately sicced his gonzo geek on me.
The judge threw a glance at Walt and shook his head. “Ms. Brinkman, give us a time estimate on the Pearson case. A month? Two months? A year?”
“I think three months should do it. So, June twentieth?” The clerk gave the thumbs up, and the judge okayed it. “And I’m asking that my client be released on his own recognizance. He’s got ties to the community, no history of violent crime-”
Wesson jumped to his feet. “I object! He’s a drug dealer; that’s a major danger to the community, and-”
The judge looked over his glasses at the prosecutor. “Mr. Wesson, we don’t even have enough beds to house people charged with murder. I think society will manage to survive if I release a low-rent drug dealer.” The judge looked at me. “I’m assuming he can’t make bail.” I shook my head. The judge banged his gavel. “Defendant will be released on his own recognizance. Next case.”
Paul Wesson fumed and marched out of court. I went over to Walt, who was doing a bad job of suppressing a grin. “I’m so going to make you pay for this.”
“Come on, it’s kind of funny.”
“Yeah, and I’m laughing. Way deep down inside. Call off your boy wonder, Walt. I want straight possession for time served.”