The Advocate's Ex Parte (The Advocate Series Book 5) (17 page)

“No, I didn’t mean that. I’m just not comfortable with the idea of carrying a gun at all. I’d probably shoot some innocent person, or even a kid. I’m around kids too much. I could never live with myself if I did that.”

“You could at least get one for your home.”

Sabre shook her head. Guns scared her. She had never been around them. For a second she considered that maybe if she were more familiar with them she wouldn’t be so hesitant, but she didn’t want to talk about it. “What about Tran?” Sabre asked.

JP cocked his head, lowered his chin, and looked at Sabre with his eyes rolled up. Then he said, “I don’t think she murdered anyone, but I need to do further investigation on her case for the custody issues. There’s something strange going on there and I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Her behavior has been a bit odd. She seems to really love her daughter, Emma, yet she’s been questioning the foster mother about adoption. It might be she’s just afraid that her rights may be terminated, but the foster mother thought it was more than that. Ask around and see if she has talked to anyone else about giving up the baby.”

“Will do. Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of. I left a message for the CASA worker, Mae Chu, but I haven’t heard back from her. I’ll let you know if I come up with something.”

JP stood up, and on his way out the door without looking back said, “A nice little Sig Sauer would be good. I bet you can even find one with a pink pearl handle.”

Chapter 26

The King Case

Children: Devon King, age 2 (M), Kordell King, age 12 (M)

Parents: Father of Devon—Isaiah Banks, Father of Kordell—Clay Walker, Mother—Brenda King

Issues: Physical Abuse

Facts: Isaiah Banks beat his stepson, Kordell, with a belt and his fist.

“Thanks for seeing me,” JP said to the inmate who sat across from him, a huge African-American man with a large scar on his chin. The man’s size alone would frighten a bear.

“I like visitors. Breaks up the day. But that don’t mean I’m gonna tell you nothin’,” he said gruffly.

“Fair enough. Tell me what you will. But let me tell you why I’m here.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’m working with an attorney who represents Isaiah Banks’ son. She’s trying to keep him and his older brother safe.”

“From Isaiah?” the man’s voice seemed to soften just a little.

“Not necessarily. We’re trying to find the best placement for him. And we need to know if he is safe with Isaiah.”

“How would I know that?” he snarled.

“You spent the last year in here with him. During that time, did he ever talk about his son?”

“Bragged about him all the time.”

“Did his son ever come to visit?”

“Only once. Isaiah’s old lady brought him, but I guess the boy’s grandma was pretty upset. Said he had ‘no bizness bringing that boy to see his selfish self.’ I heard her givin’ it to him one day after the boy had been here. The mother never brought the kid back after that. I don’t know what the big deal was. He was just a baby. It’s not like he’d remember it.”

“Did the grandmother continue to come see him?”

“Every week.”

“What about the boy’s mother, Isaiah’s girlfriend?”

“She came about once a month. That’s pretty good. Most the time, the bitches don’t keep coming. They find some other fool to keep them happy.”

“Do you know who Isaiah hangs out with on the outside?”

“Nope. I met him in here.” The big man’s lip turned up just a little on the corner. “You know I wouldn’t tell you even if I did, right?”

JP knew he wasn’t going to obtain any real information from this man. He thanked him, spoke with a couple of guards he knew, and then went for his second scheduled interview with another inmate, Brandon Bennett, who knew Isaiah before he went to prison. Brandon and Isaiah had grown up on the same block. JP took a long look at Brandon as he walked into the interview room. He stood about five-foot-eight, was solidly built, and sported an angry woodpecker on his forearm. He apparently spent a lot of time in the gym, as he was buff and walked like he was proud of it.

After Brandon sat down, JP introduced himself. “I understand you know Isaiah Banks.” The man didn’t answer. “Is that correct?” JP asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“How well do you know him?”

“We were friends when we were kids. We lived on the same block, only one house between us. We went to the same school, played on the same baseball and football teams. We were like brothers.”

“And now?”

“Now it’s different.”

“How’s that?”

“We grew up, man. Lives went on different paths. It’s hard for two brothers of different color to stay friends in the hood.”

“Because of the gangs?” JP asked, but it was more of a statement than a question. He knew both Isaiah and Brandon were affiliated with one.

“Yeah. We were only fourteen when Isaiah became a Skyline Piru. We foolishly thought I could be one, too. It nearly got me and Isaiah both killed.”

“So when did you become a Peckerwood?”

Brandon glanced at the tattoo on his arm and then back at JP. “A few years after Isaiah hooked up with the Skyline Pirus, I joined a local group that called themselves Peckerwoods. They weren’t affiliated with the motorcycle club out of Santee. I realize now they were mostly young ‘wanabees.’ The street gangs suck you in, but the prisons make it real. It’s hard to survive either of them without a family. They become your family. The first time I went to the joint, the tattoo helped me fit in. The Skinheads seemed happy to increase their numbers.” He lowered his voice. “You have to belong somewhere if you’re going to survive in here.”

“Do you have any contact with Isaiah?”

“Never inside. But outside on the streets, if we meet up, we speak.”

“Do you know if Isaiah is involved with the Pirus now?”

“He used to lay pretty low on the outside—in prison too, for that matter. If called on, he’d do what he had to do, but he was no leader or anything. The word is things are different now.”

“Different how?”

“They say he’s done something that moved him up.”

“Like killed a judge, maybe?” JP asked.

Brandon shrugged but made no response, leaving JP wondering if he didn’t know or just wouldn’t say.

Chapter 27

Sabre pulled into the Seaport Village parking lot and found a spot in the second row almost directly in front of Upstart Crow. She hesitated, wondering why she was doing this. She hated the discomfort of new relationships, but this wasn’t going anywhere anyway. He would be here for a few days and then he’d be gone. After all, it was just a cup of coffee. Like Clint said, “I’m not askin’ you to marry me. Just want to break a few breadsticks.” She smiled at the thought of his comment. At least he had a sense of humor.

She stepped out of the car and walked into Upstart Crow. She looked around and didn’t see Clint. Then she glanced at the time on her phone. It read 3:59. She should’ve been a few minutes late. She looked too eager. She considered turning around and leaving before he got there. If he called her again she’d tell him something came up and she couldn’t call because she didn’t have his number. Just as she turned to go, Clint stepped inside the front door.

“Nice place. Got here about fifteen minutes ago. Just been looking around. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“No, I just arrived.”

He placed his hand lightly on her shoulder and guided her toward the coffee counter, then removed his hand and lowered his arm. He ordered a large, black, house-blend coffee. Sabre got her usual decaf mocha with non-fat milk. He paid for both, as well as for a little bag labeled “Duck Food” that sat in a basket on the counter. They walked out back where a few tables and chairs gathered on the patio.

“We can sit here and watch the ducks,” Clint said. “What do you think?”

“Perfect,” Sabre said, as she looked toward the ducks. The temperature was seventy-two degrees, the air was still, and the sun was reflecting off the small pond. A wooden walkway formed a bridge over the water.

Clint set his coffee mug down on a table, pulled a chair out for Sabre to use, and then laid the bag of “Duck Food” on the table next to his cup. “San Diego is a beautiful city. Is your weather always this nice?”

“Most of the time. What’s it like in Texas?” Before he could answer, she added, “What part of Texas are you from, anyway?”

“Dallas. I’m afraid I’m a big-city cowboy, but a Texan just the same,” he said. “Have you lived here all your life?”

“Yes, I was born and raised here. Not in the city, though. We lived in the Poway area and there wasn’t much there when I was growing up. The town itself only incorporated a few years before I was born.”

“Any siblings?”

“Just one brother. How about you?”

“Two sisters. I was the youngest and the only boy, and I was quite spoiled according to my sisters. But now it seems I’m the one they call whenever there’s trouble. I don’t mind. I’d do anything for either one of them. Love ‘em both more than all of Texas.” He sipped his coffee. “Does your brother live here in San Diego?”

“No. He has moved on.” Sabre couldn’t explain where he really was and she didn’t want to talk about it. Their conversation felt like a game of ping-pong, both giving short answers. She decided to ask a more open-ended question. “So, what was life like growing up in Texas?”

“Texas is hot and muggy much of the time. Don’t get me wrong, I love Texas. But your weather and the ocean almost make me want to move here. My sister’s been bragging about it for years.”

“How is your sister, by the way?”

“‘Bout the same, I guess. Sarajean was told by the social worker not to see her boyfriend, but she is anyhow. I think I may be making the situation worse, though.”

“How’s that?”

“I don’t think her boyfriend would dare to do anything while I’m here and so my sister is thinking he’s changed. I’m afraid once I leave, all hell will break loose.”

“You’re probably right. And her children won’t be returned to her if she doesn’t do what the court orders.”

“Wish she would call you. Or maybe we should give her the number for that other feller, the one who was with you in the bar. That way, we wouldn’t be mixing business with pleasure.” He grinned at Sabre and gave her a quick wink. “I noticed that lawyer wore a wedding ring. You two just friends, right?”

“Yes, we’re very good friends.”

“Is he your law partner or something?”

“No, I’m a sole practitioner.”

“You work all alone? No investigator or anything?”

“I hire an independent private investigator for a lot of my work.”

“Always thought that would be an exciting job. Considered doin’ it myself for a while. Was never quite sure how to go about getting started, though. What does he do for you? I mean, how does it work exactly?”

“When I have a case I need more information on, I give it to JP and tell him what I’m concerned about, and then he interviews witnesses, does a lot of research online, and writes a report for me. He was a detective with the San Diego Sheriff’s Department for many years so he has a lot of experience.” Sabre set her near empty cup down. “So, what is it you do for work back in Texas, Clint?”

“Construction mostly. I like working with my hands and I enjoy the outdoors. Not much for being cooped up. Figured an investigator doesn’t spend much time inside, but the way you describe it, I might just be wrong. Guess I’ll stick to what I know.”

Sabre finished her coffee and pushed the cup forward on the table. “I should be going.”

Clint picked up the bag on the table. “Not before we feed the ducks.”

“Of course. We have to feed the ducks.”

They walked onto the little bridge. Three ducks floated around as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Clint opened the bag and then handed it to Sabre. “Go ahead,” he said.

Sabre tossed a few pellets from the package into the water. One duck swam immediately to the food. The other two followed when they saw what he was after, quacking as they approached. Before the next pellet hit the water, four more ducks had appeared. Before the food was gone, Sabre had created quite a frenzy in the water. One of the smaller ducks couldn’t seem to get his share. Sabre tried tossing it closer to him, but a larger, quicker duck snatched it up. She continued to throw the pellets at him, but she ran out before she was successful.

“Want me to get some more for the little guy?” Clint asked.

Sabre smiled. “No, I’m sure he isn’t going to starve.” She looked up and saw the sun starting to set on the water. “And I really need to be on my way.” She took a step forward.

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Thank you.”

His bright smile flashed across his face. “It’s a selfish motive. Just my way of spending a few more minutes with you.”

When they reached Sabre’s car he opened her door for her. “I’ll call you soon, if that’s alright with you.”

Sabre was pleased that he made no attempt to kiss her. She nodded. “That would be fine.”

Chapter 28

The Tran Case

Child: Emma, age 18 mos. (F)

Parents: Father—unknown, Mother—Kim-Ly Tran

Issues: Neglect

Facts: Mother left eighteen-month-old girl in locked room and went to work. Apartment complex caught on fire.

“Thanks for coming with me,” JP said to Bob, as they sat down at a table in the dim light of Muffs.

“We’re at a strip bar and you’re buying the beer and the lap dance. It doesn’t get much better than this.”

“I just hope your wife doesn’t kill me for it.”

“Marilee’s a good sport. She’s not upset at you.”

“So, you told her?”

“Are you crazy? Of course not. That’s how I know she won’t be upset. Of course, if she does find out, I’ll blame it all on you.”

“Of course you will.”

The waitress came to the table wearing denim short shorts, a low-cut blouse with more than ample cleavage, and four-inch heels. Bob ordered a tap beer and JP ordered a Corona.

“You know you can’t question Kim-Ly, right?” Bob said.