State's Evidence: A Beverly Mendoza Legal Thriller

A Beverly Mendoza Legal Thriller

By R. Barri Flowers

Copyright 2006 by R. Barri Flowers at
Smashwords. All rights reserved.

Cover Image Copyright 2010 by Junial
Enterprises

Used under license from
http://www.shutterstock.com

State's Evidence
is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of
the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual events, locales, business establishments, or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to
other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com
and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work
of this author.

ALSO BY R. BARRI FLOWERS

NOVELS

Justice Served (A Barkley & Parker
Thriller)

Killer in The Woods (A Psychological
Thriller)

Persuasive Evidence (A Jordan La Fontaine
Legal Thriller)

Dead in the Rose City (A Dean Drake
Mystery)

Murder in Maui (A Leila Kahana Mystery)

Dark Streets of Whitechapel (A Jack the
Ripper Mystery)

Ghost Girl in Shadow Bay (A Young Adult
Haunted House Mystery)

Danger in Time (A Young Adult Time Travel
Mystery)

Christmas Wishes: Laura's Story (A Teen
Fantasy Novel)

TRUE CRIME

The Sex Slave Murders

SHORT STORIES

Gone But Never Forgotten

The Jury Has Spoken

Vandals

RAVE REVIEWS OF STATE’S EVIDENCE

“Flowers once again has written a page-turner
legal thriller that begins with a bang and rapidly moves along to
its final page. He has filled the novel with believable characters
and situations.” — Midwest Book Review

“This legal thriller will have you on the
edge of your seats. The courtroom scenes are unforgettable and very
believable.... The author gets into the mind of the criminals and
you’ll feel privileged to information that the other characters
don’t know. State’s Evidence is a must have for any fan of suspense
books.” — Shades of Romance Magazine

“R. Barri Flowers’s book STATE’S EVIDENCE is
a well-written thriller with an opening scene that would cause
anyone to keep turning the pages. STATE’S EVIDENCE will make the
top sellers list because it’s fast-paced, intriguing, satisfying,
and I highly recommend it to you.” — Romance Reader At Heart

“STATE’S EVIDENCE, the new legal thriller by
R. Barri Flowers, is a mixture of murder, mystery, madness and
mayhem. The story was well-written and believable, and at times
erotic. Flowers inflicted the characters with human flaws, among
them the desire for love and revenge.” — RAWSISTAZ Reviewers

“Just when you think you have figured the
plot out, R. Barri Flowers throws another curve. One of my
suppositions did prove out but was clouded by the red herrings
being thrown around... It was well worth the time taken to read
it.” — Roundtable Reviews

“STATE’S EVIDENCE has a varied, multicultural
cast of interesting characters, both good and evil.... Plot is
clever and intriguing with unusual twists, with the suspense
escalating rapidly.” — Romance Reviews Today

“An intriguing story of murder, madness and
mayhem, with a slight blend of mystery. Flowers depicts believable
characters in this suspenseful legal thriller.” — Romantic
Times

“R. Barri Flowers has written an electrifying
and enthralling legal thriller that will appeal to readers of Nancy
Taylor Rosenberg and Barbara Parker. The courtroom scenes are very
realistic and the heroine is someone readers will empathize with
and admire as a role model for minorities and women. STATE’S
EVIDENCE would make a great action packed movie.” — Harriet
Klausner

In loving memory of my Dad—Johnnie Henry
Flowers, Sr.—who taught me how to become a man and put forth my
best efforts in life.

And to Michigan State University’s School of
Criminal Justice, where the seeds for becoming a writer of legal
and thriller fiction were planted.

* * *

PROLOGUE

She was a real piece of ass...

He could feel his arousal through tight
jeans. He had been watching her, following her, getting to know her
every move till it was time to do what had to be done.

He could have taken her any time he wanted,
crushing her pretty skull between his strong, calloused hands, as
easily as one might flatten a piece of dough. But it was more fun
and stimulating to bide his time like a shark might before going
after a helpless fish. Or even a human. He knew exactly where she
was every minute of the day.

And night.

Why rush a good thing?

He considered killing a person a work of art.
Like the Mona Lisa. It required skill, finesse, courage,
determination, and a vision.

He had been born with these talents
thirty-two years ago in East L.A.’s Latino community. Surviving the
mean streets there had required every bit of his artistic skills,
and then some. With his mama a whore and his daddy a wife-abusing
heroin addict, he had literally been left to fend for himself as
early as he could remember.

Joining a gang had allowed him to sharpen his
skills. He imagined he had taken out or seriously injured maybe a
dozen or more rival gang members by the time he was fifteen. He
considered it all in a day’s work. It was either them or him. Which
was a real no-brainer.

But he knew he was going nowhere fast in
L.A.’s war zone. Between the rival Latino gangs and the black gang
bangers fighting for territory, respect, or just for the hell of
it, he saw no future there. Sooner or later he figured a bullet or
blade would have his name written on it in blood—unless he quit
while he was ahead.

Which was precisely why he had given up the
hood and gang life and fled the city before he turned eighteen. He
ended up in Northern California in a town called Eagles Landing. By
comparison to the urban jungle he’d left behind, it was fairly laid
back and boring as hell.

Still, he didn’t miss his homeboys one bit.
No damned way!

He’d hooked up with distant relatives and was
cool with a few dudes in Eagles Landing.

But even that was fleeting. It didn’t take
long for him to realize he operated much better on his own, apart
from keeping a roof over his head in living with a broad. This way
he got to keep all the profits and pleasures from doing what he did
best—killing people.

It was a rush like no other. Even better than
getting off inside a bitch. Or the almost orgasmic feel of cocaine
going into his veins. He killed for hire or just plain old desire.
It made no difference to him. What counted most was that once he
had targeted someone for death, it was just a matter of when,
where, how, and sometimes how much.

He contemplated those very things as he
studied the nice looking broad through the window of her fancy
home. She was maybe thirty, slim, with a big ass and even bigger
breasts. Her yellow hair was permed with fluffy curls and she had
full red lips. He imagined kissing that mouth, then sticking his
tongue inside. Or better yet, having that mouth go down on him and
do its thing.

Before he gave her a taste of death.

She was sitting at the dining room table with
her husband. He was a few years older than her, dark haired, and
seemingly uncomfortable in her presence, as though he didn’t
belong.

He looked away from the man back to his wife,
watching a while longer, as he devised his strategy for her demise.
A rush of adrenalin poured through him at the prospect, knowing the
time was getting near to put the plan into action.

But first he wanted to allow her a bit more
false sense of security. It was always that much more exhilarating
when his victim realized that the perfect little world she or he
had created was about to come crashing down around them and there
wasn’t a damned thing that could be done to prevent it.

Except maybe hope you got run over by a bus
first. Or dropped dead of a heart attack, sparing yourself from
meeting up with him.

Short of that, the person was his for the
taking. And he fully intended to do just that.

Only a matter of time.

Yes, let her feel secure in her comfortable
house. With that husband of hers there to protect her. Wouldn’t do
her one bit of good.

She would never live to see the light of
day.

CHAPTER ONE

The jury foreman looked tense as she
responded to the judge’s terse question, “Have you reached a
verdict?”

The juror, an attractive Jordanian professor
and mother of five, risked a furtive peek at the other jurors, as
if for final confirmation. Then she raised her big brown eyes to
the bench. “Yes, we have, Your Honor—”

Judge Sheldon Crawford was in his
mid-fifties, but looked younger with a cappuccino-toned face that
was without wrinkles save for a barely perceptible crease
stretching across his forehead. He had short salt and pepper hair,
and deep gray eyes that rarely seemed to blink. Focusing them on
the juror, he instructed her to hand the verdict to the
bailiff.

Judge Crawford had a reputation as a tough
judge, routinely doling out the stiffest penalties the law would
allow. Needless to say, prosecutors and their constituents loved
him and the justice rendered. Whereas, defense attorneys and their
clients feared coming before the judge, often doing all they could
to avoid his court, including plea bargaining at virtually every
opportunity.

Beverly Mendoza, co-counsel for the State,
fidgeted in her seat. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Her intense green eyes studied the faces of the jurors, trying to
get a hint as to what direction they had taken. Admittedly she
hadn’t a clue and was too smart to make any presumptions.

The case involved a woman accused of
murdering her lover by pushing him off a 320-foot cliff. Her
defense was that they were just fooling around—
love play
,
she had called it—when he accidentally fell to his death. The fact
that she didn’t report him missing for two weeks seemed incidental.
As did his million dollar life insurance policy, which had only
recently named her as the beneficiary.

Beverly gazed at the thirty-year-old
defendant who sat there cool, calm, collected, and incredibly
confident.

Does she know something I don’t?

Could this jury have possibly let her off the
hook?

Meaning the prosecution would have failed to
prove its case.
And I’d have a loss on my record that would be
hard to swallow and harder to justify
.

She snapped her head back, causing her long,
straight brunette hair to bounce against the gray jacket of her
Anne Klein linen suit. Her eyes landed on her co-counsel, Deputy
District Attorney Grant Nunez. His Afro-Latino profile was classic
with chiseled, caramel colored features and a round head that was
shaven bald. He wore a tailored dark brown suit that fit well on
his muscular, tall frame. Grant was forty—eight years older than
her—and in line for a judgeship by all indications. Losing this
case would not help his chances.