The Code of the Hills (6 page)

Chapter Seven

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EDNESDAY MORNING
the Prosecutor's Office buzzed with activity. Breeon battled a young defense attorney outside her office door, refusing to reduce a felony assault to a misdemeanor in clear and colorful language. The administrative staff sat at their computers, and Stacie already had a line of county citizens with problems and complaints.

Elsie was running late. That morning, Noah awoke in a randy mood, and she was disposed to accommodate him. As a result, she was walking bowlegged as she hurried through the office, but she believed it was a price worth paying.

Passing by Nedra's desk, she noted that Madeleine's secretary was three deep in local reporters. It was Nedra's job to handle the press and juggle media requests. Spying cameras from both of the local TV stations as she headed down the narrow hallway, Elsie ducked her head to disguise her glee. They had to be covering the Taney case. Seeing her face on television always provided a deliciously guilty pleasure.

She needed to talk to Nedra about the morning court schedule, but she didn't like to bother her while the reporters were around. She decided to check her e-­mail first and enjoy the coffee she'd picked up at the Kinfolks Café on the way to work. Kinfolks boasted the strongest coffee in town, and though she had to spend precious minutes to run in and get it, she wanted a cup of good coffee in anticipation of her big day in court. While she was a loyal patron of the chummy little coffee shop at the courthouse, their coffee was a rank, watery brew parceled out in tiny white foam plastic cups.

The sight of her desk brought her up short. A familiar manila file had been laid atop the scattered mess of papers she left the day before. A stapled set of her handwritten notes sat beside it, with a single sheet of paper on top. It read:
I have a Dr.'s appointment.
You'll need to handle this.
Madeleine.

“Fuck me,” Elsie said, panic rising in her chest. This was the kind of scenario she confronted in nightmares sometimes, the anxiety dream where she showed up in court totally unprepared, missing important clothing items. The difference, of course, was that she wasn't dreaming. She was horribly, terribly awake, and the consequences were real. If she appeared for the preliminary hearing with no witnesses to support the charge, the judge would dismiss the case, and a child molester would be set loose.

Elsie snatched up the Taney file and ran back down the hall to Nedra's desk, where the secretary was deep in discussion with a reporter for the city newspaper. “Nedra,” she panted. “Gotta talk to you.”

“I'm busy,” Nedra said, without a glance in her direction.

“It's really, really important,” she insisted.

Nedra looked at her impatiently; nobody interfered with press relations in the Prosecutor's Office. Elsie made a frantic gesture behind the reporter's back, and Nedra got the message; she followed as Elsie dodged into a nearby conference room.

“Nedra,” Elsie said, clutching her arm, “where the hell is Madeleine? The Taney preliminary is in one hour, and I've got a note saying she won't be here.”

“She said she had an appointment. She said you could handle it. She said you know more about the case than she does, at this point.” Nedra edged toward the door, but Elsie stopped her.

“Nobody told me,” she said.

“Madeleine gave me the file and told me to put it on your desk yesterday, when she got back from her meetings.” Nedra's tone betrayed her desire to return to the demands of her own job.

“No one told me yesterday. I didn't have the file yesterday; I was looking for it, I couldn't find it.”

Nedra threw her hands up. “I put the file on your desk when I left at five o'clock. Madeleine came in at five and told me to.”

Elsie snapped, “What are you talking about,” then stopped. She'd left work before five last night. She and Noah fled just a few minutes early, but her departure had set her up for disaster.

Leaning against the wall for support, she moaned. “Oh man, Nedra, are you sure she's not coming in this morning?”

“Absolutely positive.”

“Can I reach her on her cell?”

Nedra shook her head. “She left instructions that she was not to be disturbed under any circumstances.” She paused, then added in a whisper, “She's at her gynecologist.”

Grasping for a crisis extreme enough to justify this desertion, Elsie asked, “Is it an emergency? Is she sick?”

“No,” Nedra hissed, obviously offended. “It's her annual exam.”

“You are kidding me. Nedra, we don't have the witnesses we need for preliminary; the case will be dismissed. I have to get in touch with her.”

“Well, she did say that if you weren't confident enough to proceed on your own, get it continued. Until Friday. She has some room on her calendar Friday morning.”

“Friday!” she wailed, but Nedra moved on down the hall.

Back at her desk, Elsie flipped through the file. Nothing had been done or added since she first reviewed it on Saturday. She checked the return copies of the subpoenas; as she feared, they were not updated. One subpoena was issued for Al Taney, and the other had been served on Tina Peroni, a social worker whose testimony would serve no purpose at the preliminary hearing.

Shutting the door, returning to her chair, she willed herself to calm down and think. The blood pounded in her temples. She was used to flying solo but was supposed to be second chair on Taney. It was the job of the first chair—­Madeleine—­to take the lead and ensure that catastrophe was averted. The role of second chair was to provide support.

The prospect of appearing alone at the preliminary hearing, when the state was clearly unprepared, terrified her. The state would lose; the judge would be furious; and the victims, the press, and the public at large would lay the blame at her feet.

She shut her eyes and tried to breathe slowly. A knock sounded at the door. Stacie called, “Your witness is here.”

Elsie's heart jumped. “Which one?”

“Tina Peroni from Social Ser­vices.”

Well, of course it was Tina. Al Taney was gone with the wind; she reckoned it was more likely to see Paris Hilton walk through the office door, toting a little dog in a fancy handbag, than Kris Taney's elusive brother.

She told Stacie she'd be right out and sat quietly for a moment. Reaching for the phone, she dialed the Detective Division of the Barton Police Department. When the line picked up, she said, “Connect me with Detective Ashlock, please.”

After waiting for a second, she heard his voice: “Ashlock here.”

Those words came through the line like a chorus of angels.

“Oh, Ash, it's Elsie, and I'm in a terrible bind. You got a minute?”

“Sure, Elsie. I'm heading to a meeting, but I can talk for a minute. What's up?”

“Madeleine dumped the Taney case on me, and I have a preliminary hearing in thirty minutes, and I've got no witness. The place is crawling with press. I don't know what to do. Don't have a clue.” She was so relieved to confide in him, she nearly cried.

The detective's voice was warm and calm as he spoke into her ear. “Elsie, I'd be glad to help, but if you don't have a case, how are you going to come up with one in thirty minutes? Is there a witness that needs to be picked up? Can I get a patrolman to round somebody up for you?”

On a pad in front of her, she drew frantic circles. “I don't think we can find the witness on time. It's the defendant's brother. He skipped a meeting with us on Saturday, and I couldn't find him at his address.”

“What's up with this guy? Isn't he the one who blew the whistle on the situation?”

“Yeah. It looks like he changed his mind about cooperating with us.”

“That's no good. Can you get a continuance while we look for him?” Ashlock suggested.

“I don't know. Madeleine said I should continue it for Friday, but Kris Taney is incarcerated. The judge won't be sympathetic to a request for a continuance; we're not supposed to drag our feet when the defendant's sitting in jail. Shit, Ash, this case is in Judge Carter's court; you know he can't stand the sight of me.”

They were both quiet for a moment. Ashlock swore under his breath. “Elsie, I've got a meeting with the police chief in about five minutes.” Her hopes sank as he continued, “I'll check in on you as soon as I get out of there.”

Shaking her head, she said, “Thanks anyway, Ash; thanks for listening. Sorry to bug you. I'll handle it.”

A feeling of doom enveloped her as she hung up. She felt like she was battling a forest fire alone, with one gunny sack. With an effort, she rose from her chair and opened the door to the hall, calling out for her other witness.

“Stacie, where's Tina Peroni?”

“Right here,” answered Tina, rounding the corner of the hallway. “I'd like a chance to run through the questions before I testify.”

“Come in and sit down, Tina,” she said, closing the door behind her. Tina settled in a chair across from her desk. Elsie had a high opinion of Tina and considered her a friend. After twenty years in social work, Tina had not succumbed to burnout. She was dedicated and savvy, and made a good appearance on the stand, too, with her articulate speech, trendy glasses, and relaxed manner.

Elsie asked, “How much contact have you had with the defendant in this case?”

“With Taney? Never met him. I did some interviews in the case after he was arrested.” She pulled notes out of a folder and referred to them. “They assigned me to the family on December twenty-­ninth. He was already in jail.”

“So you can't provide any firsthand accounts of Taney's abuse of his children?”

“Well, no. Obviously.”

Tapping a pen on her desktop, Elsie considered her options. As she suspected, Tina's testimony could not provide admissible evidence against Taney at the hearing. The rules of evidence required direct proof, and since Taney's brother was AWOL, she needed to go to the heart of the matter.

Elsie asked, “Can you set up interviews between Detective Ashlock and Kris Taney's daughters and wife this week?”

“Certainly. What's up?”

“I'm trying to salvage this case. We're about to fumble the ball.” She made a face. “Sorry about the football analogy. It's just that I'm working around policemen all the time.”

Tina laughed. “Hey, I like football. I'm a Steelers fan.”

Elsie gave her a look. “Good Lord, Tina. That's an East Coast team.”

“I'm not a local, my hillbilly friend.”

“Oh, Tina. No one would mistake you for an Ozarks native.”

“Because I'm gay? Or because I have a full set of teeth?”

A knock sounded; the door opened and Detective Ashlock stuck his head in. “Ladies, how can I help?”

She had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. Beaming, she jumped up and ushered him in. “Damn, you're fast.”

He laughed. “It's handy to have the police station across the street.”

“What about the chief?” she asked.

“I told him there's an emergency at the courthouse. It sounds like there surely is.”

Elsie offered her seat, but Ashlock refused, leaning against the file cabinet instead.

“What did you all allege in the felony complaint?” he asked.

“Count one is statutory rape in the first degree; that's Kristy, she's under the age of fourteen,” Elsie replied, pulling out the sheet of paper. “Then Madeleine charged statutory rape in the second degree for count two. That's for his sexual intercourse with Charlene; since she's fifteen, it's a less serious felony offense.”

Looking up from the page, she said, “You know he must have had sex with Charlene when she was younger. If I could talk to her, she could pinpoint some times that her father had sex with her before she turned fourteen.”

“What's the third charge?” he asked.

“The third charge is a count of incest, having sexual intercourse with his blood descendant. But incest is only a Class D felony. We'd be much better off dumping the incest charge and filing more specific counts of activity under the first degree statutory rape statute, because the penalty is higher.”

Tina asked, “What's the penalty for incest?”

“Well, it's Class D, so the most time he can get for that is four years. But the maximum penalty for statutory rape in the first degree is life imprisonment.”

“Life,” repeated Tina with awe. “That's tough shit.”

“Damn straight,” Elsie nodded. “This is Missouri, hon.” Indicating the criminal complaint, she said, “I've got to get this complaint cleaned up. It's a mess.”

Ashlock walked over to Elsie's desk, bending over her shoulder as they examined the language of the charge together. Even through her desperation, she was acutely aware of his proximity as he took the pen from her hand and made notations on the paper, underlining portions of each of the three counts against Taney.

“You need your victims here for preliminary,” he said. “You should have them on the stand, regardless of whether we can run down Taney's brother.” He handed the pen back to her.

“How quickly can you take witness statements of the Taney women?” she asked.

He took time to consider the options. “Do you want them on video?”

“No, just basic Q and A on audiotape, with your clerical staff making a transcript. And making it
fast
. How soon can we get that accomplished?”

“When do you need it?” Ashlock asked.

Elsie checked her watch. “In about five minutes.”

A
LO
CAL
TV
cameraman trained his lens on Elsie and Tina as they walked toward the courtroom. If her knees were inclined to wobble, Elsie thought, they'd be shaking now. She knew her motion for continuance would be met with disapproval, and the stakes were high. Just about as high as they could be.