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Authors: James Scott Bell

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BOOK: Presumed Guilty
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8.

“What?”
Tiana looked out the door of the little tract house in Eagle
Rock, an expression of complete surprise on her face. The woman
Jared took to be her sister stood by her side. There was a striking
resemblance.
“Tiana,” Jared said, “I — ”
He heard scuffling feet, looked down, and saw Jamaal. The boy
smiled up at Jared and said, “Where you been?”
“I had a few things to take care of. How’s that arm?” “Huh?”
Jared made a passing motion.
“Good,” Jamaal said.
“Hold it!” Tiana said, hands on her hips. “How’d you find us?
What are you doing here?”
“The neighbor lady from your old place gave me the address. I
told her I had to find you, I — ”
“After you ran out on us?” Her voice betrayed hurt mixed with
the anger.
“Wait — ”
She slammed the door closed.
A moment later it swung open again. This time the sister was
alone with Jamaal. “Mister,” she said, “what are you about?” “I didn’t run out on your sister. Or Jamaal.”
The boy pointed at him and said, “You better not be lyin’.” “Believe me, kid, I’m done with that.”
The sister gave him a hard, examining look. “I can’t let you in
here unless I’m convinced you’re being straight. I’m not going to let
my sister get hurt anymore, you hear me?”
“Give me five minutes,” Jared said. “That’s it. If you want me
gone after that, I’m gone.”
She considered it a moment, then stepped aside so he could
come in. “My name’s Lavonne,” she said.
“He’s Jared,” Jamaal said.
Jared followed Lavonne inside. Tiana was on a blue sofa, her
head in her hands. She looked up. When she saw Jared she started
shaking her head.
“We can at least listen,” Lavonne said.
“Five minutes,” Jared said.
“I can’t take any more of you,” Tiana said. “You’ve got to leave
us alone now.”
“Three minutes, then I’m gone.” Jared didn’t wait for permission. “The night we argued up in Bakersfield, I went out and I was
going to drive away, for good — you’re right about that — but I got
picked up by the highway patrol. They found my bench warrant
on the DUI I skipped, and back I came, and I was in jail and a guy
wanted to kill me, only this other guy in my cell talked Jesus to the
guy and he stopped, and it freaked me out, but it woke me up and
turned me around. I don’t want to go back to the way I was again,
no more booze, no more drugs, I’m gonna stay clean, but mostly I
don’t want to be away from you and Jamaal. And that’s it, that’s the
whole thing.”
The others looked at him as if he was slightly nuts. Then Jamaal said, “Cool.”
“That’s a good one, all right,” Lavonne said.
“All true,” Jared said. “And that’s why I’m here. And I want to
know if you’ll forgive me.”
Tiana looked at him, thinking.
“Forgive him, Mom!” Jamaal said.
Slowly, a smile broke out on her face. “I do.”

9.

If duct tape had not covered her mouth, Dallas would have gasped. The shadow was in full light now, and there was no mistaking who it was, though the face was terribly puffed up and discolored.

Gilda was shaking, gun in hand. Her eyes widened through the black and blue rings that were not makeup. The loud purple hair was unkempt. It looked like a handful had been torn out of one side.

She looked down at Chad and pointed the gun at him. Dallas thought she’d fire again, but instead, she kicked his side with full force. Chad McKenzie was very clearly dead.

Gilda turned her attention to Dallas, looking as if she didn’t know what to do next.
Dallas tried to talk comfortingly with her eyes, but Gilda wasn’t listening. She didn’t look like
comfort
was in her vocabulary.
Still holding the handgun, Gilda examined Dallas’s restraints, then slowly pulled the duct tape off her mouth. Dallas suspected a layer of skin came off with it.
“Why are you here?” Gilda said.
“He was going to kill me.”
Gilda shook her head slowly. “Then we’re both dead.”
“Cut me loose,” Dallas said.
Eyes wide, body still shaking, Gilda used the gun to point to her face. “Look at me! He did this to me!”
“I know.”
“What?”
“He used to beat me up too.”
“What are you
talking
about?”
“Cut me loose, Gilda, so we can talk.”
“Talk now.”
“All right. He was my boyfriend once. A long time ago. He tracked me down when my husband and I made the news. He somehow got hooked up with Vic Lu.”
“You got that much right. I was a present. Vic gave me to him. Now look . . .” Gilda’s words stuck in a short sob.
Vic gave me to him.
The thought jarred Dallas, but it made perverse sense. Men like Lu and Chad were into total control.
“Gilda, I can help you.”
“No way. It’s over. Vic is going to kill me, and he’ll get you too.”
“How much do you know about Lu’s dealings?”
Gilda gave a weak smile. “I’ve been here two days. Vic and Chad and a crew were coming up tomorrow for a shoot. Guess what? I shot first.”
“You were going to kill Lu?”
“I messed that up, didn’t I? The luck I have.”
“Why, Gilda? It’s because Vic Lu had something to do with Melinda’s murder, isn’t it?”
Gilda said nothing.
“You knew her. You were friends, you — ”
“You don’t make friends in this business,” Gilda spat. “You do and you only get hurt.”
“You know something. Tell me. We can stop Lu.”
Turning her back, Gilda muttered something that sounded like
no way.
“Cut me loose, Gilda. Then I can take you where it’s safe. It’s a place where women like you come to get away from the bad guys.”
“No place is safe.”
“Let me prove it to you.”
Gilda seemed to be retreating into herself. In a few minutes, she might walk out. Or kill herself. Or both of them.
“Trust me, Gilda.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I’m not like them. And neither are you.”
For an extended moment Gilda just stared at her. Then she looked to the floor, bent over, and picked up Chad’s knife.
“You better be right,” Gilda said. And then she cut Dallas loose.
“How’d you get here?” Dallas said.
“My car’s a half mile up the road.”
“Let me get my purse. It’s in Chad’s car. Then we’ll—”
“Do we have to call the cops?”
Dallas touched Gilda’s arm. “I want to talk to my lawyer first. In the morning.”
Gilda seemed relieved. “Where’ll we go?”
“I have a place where we’ll both be safe.”
“But will you drive?” Gilda said. “I’m shaking all over.”

NINE TEEN
1.

Dallas drove Gilda’s car back toward the Valley. On the way she called Cara, told her not to worry, that she’d explain everything later. She faked enough calm to get Cara to agree to wait.

Dallas got Gilda settled into Haven House around 2:30 a.m., then crashed in the office, on the sofa. She woke up, body buzzing with adrenaline, at eight.

She cleaned up in the small bathroom and then called Jeff. He was just arriving at the office. Dallas got there at 8:45.
She told him everything she knew about Vic Lu and Bernie Halstrom, the wire she wore, the Gentri Land setup, Gilda. And Chad’s body in a house in the desert. When she finished she was exhausted but managed to conclude, “That’ll mean Ron will get out of prison, won’t it?”
Jeff’s face was impassive. Not a good sign.
“What’s the problem?” she asked.
“We would have to petition the court to allow Ron to withdraw his plea. And to do that, we have to have a factual basis for allowing it, like a clear indication of another’s guilt or complicity.”
“We have it.”
“We have Chad’s and Bernie’s connection to Vic Lu, yes. What we don’t have is the connection to the murder of Melinda Perry.”
“We have Gilda. She knows things. She thinks Melinda was used by Lu as bait to catch Ron, that the murder was set up — ”
“Thinks?” Jeff pursed his lips. Another bad sign. “Dallas, remember when we discussed that gang kid you found? The problems that a questionable witness presents? The DA is going to fight this, and we’d have to convince a court this witness really knows what she’s talking about, can corroborate it.”
“But I know she can.”
“Do you really?”

302

She stopped. What did Gilda really know after all? And would it withstand scrutiny?
Softly, Jeff said, “As always, Dallas, I want you to be fully informed of what’s going on. When Ron entered his plea, he waived his right to challenge the truth of the underlying offense. We would have to show the court good cause to lift this waiver. We would — ”
“We have to go through with this, Jeff, we have to. Even though I don’t have the wire on Halstrom, we have me. I can swear to what happened. Maybe that would force him to turn on Lu — ”
“It’s your word against his.”
“Jeff! We have Detective Lacy working on this, we have — ”
“There’s a bigger problem, Dallas.”
“What?”
“Ron.”
She looked at him, wondering what he meant.
“He would have to consent to withdrawing his plea,” Jeff said. “You remember, it was his idea to plead out in the first place.”
“But the truth,” she said. “Doesn’t that matter to anybody anymore?”
“To us it does. It always will. And that’s going to have to be enough.”
With resignation rising like cold water inside her, Dallas heard her cell phone chime. She looked at the number. It was Cara.
“May I take this?” she asked.
“Go right ahead,” Jeff said.
She spoke into the phone. “Cara, what’s up?”
“It’s Lacy. I’m at your daughter’s apartment.”
Something was wrong with Cara. “What is it?”
“Can you talk?”
She thought maybe she should call him back, but was too anxious to hear his report. “Yes.”
“It’s about Gentri Land. It’s owned by a shell company. Called DatJam. Gentri Land is the only thing this shell company owns, as far as I can tell.”
All very interesting, but it could wait, couldn’t it?
“I looked deeper, and found out who the agent for service of process is.”
“What’s that?”
“A corporation has to have someone who can be served papers, in case they’re sued, whatever. Dallas, the agent for DatJam is Jefferson Waite.”
Every muscle in her body clenched.
Jeff.
Who had denied knowing anything about Gentri Land.
She tried to keep her face from blazing a neon sign of trouble.
“Mrs. Hamilton?”
“I’m here, dear.”
“Excuse me?”
She looked at Jeff. He was scribbling something on a legal pad.
“I’m with your father’s lawyer at the moment,” Dallas said in a light tone.
“You’re at Waite’s office?” Lacy said.
“We’re trying to see what we can do for Dad. I’ll fill you in when I get home.”
“Get out of there, Dallas.”
“See you soon.”
She put the phone in her pocket.
“Any trouble?” Jeff asked.
“No, no. Cara’s such a worrywart. I guess I’d better go reassure her.”
She stood up.
So did Jeff. He walked around his desk toward her. She watched his eyes, looked at his face for clues of his intentions.
Stay calm.
“Thanks for everything you’ve done, Jeff. Really. You gave it your best.”
She looked at the office door.
“Something wrong, Dallas?”
She fought hard to keep her hands steady as she reached for the door. “Let’s not give up.”
“You look worried all of a sudden.”
“All of a sudden? I’ve been in knots for months.” She clasped the door handle.
Jeff moved close to her, smiling. “You know, a lawyer goes to court, argues cases to juries, looks witnesses in the eye. He does that enough, and he develops a sense of something going on. Is there anything wrong, Dallas? Anything you’re not sharing?”
She pushed down on the handle. “I know how busy you are. Let’s meet later this week.”
“You sure?”
“I’ll call you. Thanks for everything.”
“Let me walk you to — ”
“I’m a big girl, Jeff,” she said with a lilt. “I’ll find my way out.”
She passed the receptionist, who gave her a nice smile.
Just how much does she know?
The woman was probably as deceived as everyone else in Jeff’s orbit.
Dallas kept her pace slow and steady to the elevator. It felt like an hour before it came. She got on alone, punched the key for the parking garage, and only then began to breathe easier.
The elevator let her out in the deserted garage. She’d parked Gilda’s car in the far corner. She’d feel completely safe only when she got out of there and connected with Lacy again. Fumbling for the keys, she realized how badly she was shaking. She was just about to press
unlock
on the key fob when she heard a voice.
“Don’t move, Dallas.”

2.

The look on the deputy sheriff’s face was almost comical. “I didn’t expect to see you walk in without cuffs,” he said.
Jared smiled. “What can I say? It’s not that I missed the place.”
“You came to see somebody?”
“Yeah. I want to visit one of my old cell mates.”
“What is this, old home week?”
“In a way.”
“You’re entitled to visit like anyone else. Let’s get you a pass. Who was it you wanted to see?”
“That’s just it. I never got his name. I thought maybe you could look him up for me.”
The deputy thought a moment. “Let’s go ask.”
Jared followed him through a door on the right into an office where three other deputies sat at desks.
“This is Jared Hamilton, one of our recent guests,” the deputy said.
The others gave him the same look as the first deputy had. Jared felt a little like a walking carnival exhibit. He nodded.
“He wants to say hello to one of his cell mates, if you can believe it, but he doesn’t have a name.”
One deputy, a woman with a nameplate that said
Sanchez
, motioned Jared over. She had a computer on her desk and tapped something on the keyboard.
“Okay,” she said. “Hamilton, right? Jared?”
“Yes,” Jared said.
“Yeah, here’s your module and your cell number. Let’s see, you only spent a weekend here.”
“Quite a weekend.”
“Looks like” — she peered at the screen — “you had four ablebodied companions. Pal Ingram isn’t with us anymore. He was shipped off for trial in San Mateo. Good riddance to bad garbage. He wasn’t the one you wanted to see, I hope.”
“No. It was an older guy.”
“Older?”
“Maybe in his forties.”
One of the other deputies, a man in his forties, piped, “Way over the hill.”
The other deputies, including Sanchez, laughed.
“And there were five other guys in there with me,” Jared said.
Sanchez looked at the screen. “I only see four names here, and they’re all in their twenties.”
Jared leaned over and looked at the screen. He couldn’t make out the codes. Sanchez pointed at a couple of numbers. “Only four assigned to that cell, until you came in. That makes five.”
“But I know there were six of us. I can count.”
“All I can do is tell you what’s here.”
“What if your records are wrong? Does that ever happen?”
“Never!” another deputy said. “Don’t tell him any different, either.”
More laughter.
“Sorry,” Sanchez said. “You know, you come in a place like this, it’s a little stressful. Maybe you don’t remember.”
“No, it’s clear! He saved my life.”
Sanchez looked at her fellows. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.”
“Call Oprah,” another said.
And they laughed again, having a good old time.
No amount of cajoling could get Sanchez to search any further. Jared had come in hopeful and walked out mystified. Yet most of the recent events of his life were beyond his comprehension.
Like connecting with Tiana and Jamaal the way he did.
Like knowing God had watched over him all this time because his mother and sister and father all prayed for him.
Maybe that’s all the comprehension he needed.

BOOK: Presumed Guilty
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