Nothing But the Truth (6 page)

Ultimately, a grand jury, hearing only evidence in support of an indictment, true billed his case, and Edwards was charged with multiple crimes—theft and capital murder topping the list. Bond was set at five hundred thousand dollars. Within days, Edwards was back on the street. Jeff and his investigator had gone crazy trying to figure out how he came up with the cash to pay the bondsman the ten percent fee. If they could prove the money was from ill-gotten gains, they might have been able to get the bond held insufficient, but for now they had to settle for the stringent pretrial reporting instructions the judge had imposed. In addition to whatever his bondsman asked him to do, Edwards had to check in with the court once a week. He was forbidden from opening or closing any monetary accounts, and, just for inconvenience sake, had to undergo a weekly piss test.

Ryan tossed the search warrant affidavit back onto Jeff’s desk. “You realize you don’t have any hard evidence.”

“We’ll line up the evidence we’ve got. The jury will go in the direction we lead them.”

“You hope.” Ryan knew the circumstantial evidence all pointed squarely at Edwards. At least for the theft/fraud. The murder was a different story. Mary Dinelli had been shot point-blank in the back of the head, but exhaustive searches for the weapon that killed her turned up nothing. There was no physical evidence to tie Edwards to the shooting or even the house where Mary had lived. But he had opportunity and motive to kill her. Their job would be to convince the jury to link the hard evidence on the theft case to the murder, and Ryan’s political future hung in the balance.

The United States Attorney’s office had made a strong play early on to try the case in federal court. Insurance fraud and arson were both solidly within their jurisdiction. Leonard Duncan had taken the case directly to the court of public opinion to win his bid to keep the case in his courthouse. It turned out to be a life or death decision. The U.S. Attorney had to get permission from main justice in DC before they could seek the death penalty. In contrast, the Dallas County District Attorney merely had to get an indictment for capital murder to get the death penalty on the table. Since the case stayed here, Ryan was under pressure to deliver the ultimate result.

“So do you want to bail now that you know it’s not a slam dunk?” Jeff delivered the challenge with a heavy dose of sarcasm. Ryan wasn’t biting.

 “No, but now I understand why Mr. Duncan thought you would need my help.”

“Look, I worked this case up myself. I presented to the grand jury, I—“

Jeff stopped abruptly, and Ryan heard motion behind her. She had chosen this time to meet with Jeff, hoping most of the morning docket would have cleared out. “We’re busy here.” Ryan didn’t look up and her tone was dismissive.

“I know, I know, dispensing justice. Well, I have a bit of justice I’d love for you to dispense.”

Ryan instantly recognized the voice. She could tell the person who spoke was smiling, but her voice was strong and commanding. Friendly tones mixed with firm resolve. She looked up into kind eyes, eyes that betrayed the voice.
She comes across all tough, but she’s a softie underneath. Compassion.
Ryan was at once pleased and dismayed to have discovered Brett’s primary weakness. She knew how to cure it. “What do you need?”

Brett handed her a single sheet of paper. Ryan skimmed the contents and handed it back. “And?”

“I don’t have enough info to fully evaluate the case, but I thought I’d check and see if you might be open to a waiver?”

“We don’t usually do waivers on second degree felonies.” Ryan ignored Jeff’s stare. Brett was asking for a sweet deal in exchange for her client waiving the right to have her case heard by the grand jury. Waivers were popular with lower level felonies, especially drug cases. Those inmates would crowd the county jail while waiting for the drugs they were caught with to be tested by a lab before their cases would ever be formally charged. Brett’s request was perfectly reasonable for a prostitution case, but this wasn’t a run-of-the-mill prostitution case. Compelling prostitution wasn’t run-of-the-mill.

Ryan finally faced Jeff. She knew she was tramping all over his territory. She couldn’t help herself. What she couldn’t figure out was whether her action was a power play or merely a desire to interact with Logan. Ryan decided not to examine her motivation.

Brett shot an imploring look in Jeff’s direction. He answered with a shrug. She directed her pitch at Ryan, sure she’d detected a hint of humanity in their brief interaction outside the holdover. “This is a prostitution case, plain and simple. The only reason the officer charged it as compelling was the statutory age component. Seriously, there’s no evidence my client compelled Daniels to do anything or that she was aware of her age.”

Ryan looked at the report. “Math isn’t my strong suit, but it looks like the arresting officer was correct in determining Daniels was under seventeen. He doesn’t have to prove your client used force or threat.”

“Agreed. But you do have to prove my client
caused
Daniels to commit the act.”

“I’m certain that issue will be fully explored.”

“Why waste the time?” Brett was done trying to appeal to Ryan’s seemingly nonexistent good sense. She wanted to get to the bottom line, a plea offer. “What’s the going rec for prostitutes right now? Thirty days, county jail? At three for one, by the time this case is heard by the grand jury, she’ll have more than enough time in to satisfy that. Let her waive indictment, and you save everyone a lot of time and trouble.”

“Why, Ms. Logan, how kind of you to be so concerned about our resources. Our little old office truly appreciates your compassion.” Ryan didn’t care that her sarcasm wasn’t winning points. She didn’t need leverage. The DA’s office boasted over a hundred prosecutors. They had the power to bring charges against whomever they wanted. Sure, that kind of power had to be balanced with discretion, but Ryan didn’t need some hotshot defense attorney telling her how to run her division. Besides, the best way to teach the prosecutors under her command how to have a backbone was to show her own strength. She pulled a pen from her jacket pocket and wrote down the case number from the police report Brett had handed to her. “I’ll run this through the grand jury myself. It’s time we stopped prostitution at the source.” Ryan felt a faint prick at her own hypocrisy, but she stuffed any rising internal debate.

“What the hell?” Brett snatched her paperwork from Ryan’s grasp. “I came in here to talk to Jeff.”

“So you could try and intimidate him into offering your client a cush deal?”

“My client hasn’t even said she’s guilty. I just wanted to explore all her options. Seemed like it was a cush deal for you. You get to wipe a case off your docket with very little trouble.”

“Human trafficking merits all the trouble it takes to bring the perpetrators to justice.” Ryan knew she was exaggerating the significance of the case, but she wasn’t going to back down now, despite a nagging feeling she was overcompensating for her attraction to Brett.

“You have got to be kidding me. Three women selling their bodies do not equal a white slave trade. I came to Jeff because he has some sense of perspective. You, on the other hand, have spent too much time in your office upstairs to appreciate the nuances of the real world.”

Brett was flushed. Ryan noted her adversary’s other weakness. She expressed emotion about her cases. I bet she keeps tissue in her purse, Ryan thought with disdain. She didn’t have time to think about it more since Brett turned and headed for the door. “I’ll see you at grand jury.” Brett shot the words over her shoulder.

Brett wished she had kept her mouth shut. She never should have tried to talk to Jeff Oates with his boss sitting right there. Not only had she alienated the woman who would probably be the next elected district attorney, she’d put Jeff in an impossible position. He would’ve had an easier time asking for forgiveness than permission. Now that Ryan Foster had her hands all over the case, she’d never be able to work out a deal. Not that Ann Rawlings had even asked her to work anything out. She hadn’t told her word one about the allegation. Something about the glamorous woman dressed in jail stripes intrigued Brett.

She shrugged out of her shoes, leaned back in her chair, and placed her stocking feet on her desk. It was highly unlikely Ryan would have the time or inclination to actually shepherd a low-level felony case through the grand jury herself. She’d check the docket later and find out which prosecutor was assigned and talk to him or her directly.

The morning in court had eaten into the noon hour, so Tony had picked up a chicken Caesar wrap from Eatzi’s, part of which she was already wearing. She had blocked out her afternoon to meet with Ms. Jarvis’s office manager who would arrive any minute. Since she was in charge of all the ambulance companies’ files, Brett considered interviewing her a top priority. She stifled a yawn in expectation of a very boring afternoon. Her dread was interrupted by the ding signaling receipt of a new e-mail on her desktop computer.

Sorry he didn’t make the meeting at your office. Couldn’t get off work.

I have a few questions about how all this will work. Will he be arrested right away? How long will he be in jail?

Brett didn’t need to read the e-mail address to know her mysterious, non-appointment-keeping client had resurfaced. E-mail was perfect for quick and easy communication, but it wasn’t great for detailed explanations requiring lots of back and forth. Mr. Phillip’s questions were better answered in person, or on the phone at the very least.

I’m happy to answer your questions, but it would be much easier in person. Shall we reschedule your appointment?

Brett leafed through some paperwork Tony had left on her desk. She finally admitted she was stalling. She slipped on her heels and made her way to the conference room to listen to hours of droning about numbers. What she really needed was a juicy murder case.

*

“Leonard, I think I should spend more time in the courts.”

Ryan loved her office on the eleventh floor. In turn, she hated the cramped working quarters of the courtroom prosecutors. But her morning encounter with Brett Logan was a wake-up call. Beyond a tinge of remorse for the walls she’d thrown up between herself and Brett, Ryan had no regrets about the way she handled the situation, but she felt out of practice. She spent her days reviewing files and advising the prosecutors under her direction, but except for high profile cases, she hadn’t handled direct negotiations in years. It was way past time.

Leonard had a different view of the best way to use her. “Nonsense. I need you up here.”

“No, you don’t. I was down in Langston’s court today. I miss the direct negotiating. Don’t you think I’d get better visibility down in the courts?”

“Sure you would. You’d have more liabilities too.” Leonard held out a hand, palm up. “Now before you get all worked up, hear me out.” Ryan nodded. “You hang out down there too much and every close call you make will be a headline. Odds are at least half will be negative. You want to be in the paper? Then you show up at every local function you can find, commenting about the importance of being tough on crime. That’s going to get you consistently good press. Trying to show you’re tough on crime in the courtroom? That’s a crapshoot. Go for the sure thing, Ryan.”

Ryan didn’t take his advice lightly. She was a veteran prosecutor, but a political novice. She’d worked in this office since before she graduated from law school. After spending two summers as an intern, she was a shoe-in for an entry-level spot in one of the misdemeanor courts. In the intervening years, she had worked every position at the courthouse except that of her boss and his first assistant. Normally, the first assistant would be the natural choice for successor, but Braden Marcus loved the administration side of the office and had absolutely no interest in subjecting his life to political scrutiny. Ryan didn’t crave the public eye, but she wasn’t about to live out her career without ascending to the top spot. If she didn’t, she would be a failure. Ryan Foster didn’t fail.

“What about the Edwards case?”

“Edwards? That’s a slam-dunk. No liabilities there. You focus your efforts on managing your prosecutors and show up to try that case. I’ll handle the rest.”

Ryan nodded assent but crossed her fingers behind her back. She would do more than just show up. She would star in the stage production of
Ross Edwards Gets the Needle
. The case might be a slam-dunk, but with some special effects, it could also be her ticket to becoming the next District Attorney of Dallas County.

*

“If I never hear the words ‘necessary and reasonable’ again, I’ll be happy as a clam.” Brett would never understand how any lawyer could enjoy working document-intensive white-collar cases. She grinned when she thought of her mother, the CPA. Joan Logan would regale her family over the dinner table with tales of credits and debits gone astray and beautifully crafted journal entries. While Brett’s brothers leaned forward with eager interest, Brett rearranged peas on her plate, wishing she were in her room reading a mystery. If she’d taken more interest in her mother’s discussions when she was younger, she might be like her brothers. Both of them were successful, rich, and married. Ostensibly, they were happy.

Brett was successful. She had awards and accolades to prove it. Rich and married she had yet to cross off the to-do list she’d been issued when she became an adult. Happy? She didn’t give happiness a lot of consideration. She did the work she did because it felt right. Rich might feel right too, she thought. And married? She had written that particular venture off her list. Marriage and work were a combination she couldn’t seem to make work. Her happily married, successful parents and brothers couldn’t wrap their minds around Brett’s resignation to a solitary existence.