Burden of Truth (Cass Leary Legal Thriller Series Book 1)

by Robin James

  I held my keys between my fingers, forming a fist. Surely they wouldn’t be bold enough to try anything. The post office was closed now, but there were still a smattering of people walking one block down.

  “It’s been a long day for everyone,” I said. They moved, blocking my path to my driver’s side door.

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Really,” the ringleader said. He wore a state championship ring and flashed it.

  “What’s your plan here? Huh? You gonna knock me out?”

  “That little bitch is a liar and a whore. You should rethink who you side with.”

  “Did you ever talk to her? Huh? In the halls? At the games? Do you even know her?”

  “We know enough. She’s a slut.”

  “Great. Whatever. I’m done debating this. Now get out of my way.”

  They closed in. My heart jackhammered. I took a ready stance, not really believing these two would be dumb enough to actually assault me in the middle of the street.

  Tires screeched behind me. That familiar black SUV pulled up and its driver got out. He was huge. Even taller than these two Lettermen. He wore a dark suit and a shiny blue tie. His jacket bulged at the side from the weapon I knew he carried there. He unbuttoned that jacket and flashed the weapon he carried. The boys turned white and backed up.

  “Listen …”

  “No, you listen,” my suited protector said. “You’re done here. You come near this woman again, you’re not going home again. Got it?”

  He didn’t draw his gun. He didn’t have to. The message was clear and the two Lettermen tripped over each other scattering in different directions. For my part, I concentrated on remembering how to breathe.

  The suited man turned to me. I didn’t recognize him. Not personally, anyway. But even before he spoke, I knew with cold dread who had sent him.

  “Miss Leary,” he said, reaching back into his jacket. He pulled out a business card and held it out to me. I didn’t even want to touch it, but my body went on autopilot and I took it from him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  I swallowed hard. “Yes,” I said. “Tell your boss I’m fine. And tell him no thank you.”

  He raised a brow. “No thank you? I don’t know if you were paying attention, but those two idiots back there weren’t really looking to make small talk with you.”

  I fingered the raised lettering on the business card. I had another one identical to it underneath my mattress. I’d sworn to myself I’d never use it. I swore it again now.

  “Mr. Thorne just wants to make sure you’re settling in all right,” the man said. “He’s concerned about your well-being. Is there anything you’d like me to tell him for you?”

  There were a million things I’d like to say to Killian Thorne. And there was nothing at all.

  “No,” I said, brushing past his bodyguard. Then I stopped and turned.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  He looked left and right. No one else was nearby. “Corwin.”

  I nodded. “Okay, Mr. Corwin. I think I can guess what your orders are.”

  “I’m just here to make sure nothing happens to you. Mr. Thorne understands there are people in this town who want to do you harm at the moment. He’s apparently right.”

  “Fine,” I said. “So you do your job. You just make sure you do it from somewhere I don’t have to see you. Can you do that?”

  Corwin was a man built for taking orders. He rebuttoned his jacket and gave me a curt nod. Then he got back into his SUV and pulled up to the curb. He would let me go. He might even keep his distance. But I knew he wasn’t going away.

  Chapter 30

  The next morning, Jack LaForge called Kevin Sydney to the stand. Jeanie leaned in; grabbing me by the shoulder, she whispered, “What the hell’s he doing?”

  I answered through the side of my mouth. “I have no idea.”

  “He’s not on Jack’s witness list,” Jeanie said.

  “No,” I answered. “But he’s on ours.” Except I hadn’t yet decided whether I would call him. Every bone in my body told me Sydney would do whatever he could to hang Aubrey Ames.

  “Ms. Leary?” Judge Castor said.

  I straightened in my chair. “Sorry, Your Honor.”

  There was a murmur through the gallery. I looked over my shoulder at Judge Castor’s bailiff. He gave a curt nod and went out through the double doors. A few seconds later, he brought Sydney in. The man was wearing the same dark-blue suit he’d worn when I met him a few weeks ago. He also chose a black tie with tiny green shamrocks on it. If that weren’t enough of a clue as to where his loyalties lay, Kevin Sydney wore a shiny green button on his lapel that read #neverstopfighting. It was an homage to Coach D that had sprung up just after the start of the new school year. I’d heard through the grapevine that it was a phrase the coach used with his players all the time. There was even a banner hanging in the locker room with it on it.

  Kevin Sydney adjusted his tie and smiled after the bailiff swore him in. He gave a wide smile to the jury and crossed his legs. I’d suspected it before, but with this little display, the idea cemented in my mind that Kevin Sydney, high school athletic director, was an idiot. Except I knew he wasn’t stupid. I held my breath, sensing this little roller coaster ride was about to drop down the first hill hard.

  “Go ahead, Mr. LaForge,” the judge directed.

  “Thank you. Mr. Sydney. Can you state your full name into the record and tell me what it is you do for a living.” Jack practically strutted to the podium.

  “Kevin Thomas Sydney. I am the athletic director for Delphi High School.”

  “How long have you held that position?”

  “I was hired by the district twenty-two years ago.”

  “Thank you. Were you the person responsible for hiring Larry Drazdowski as head basketball coach then?”

  “I was.” Sydney actually puffed out his chest. “Best thing I ever did.”

  “How long ago was that, if you recall?”

  “I do. I was hired just before the start of the school year in August. At the conclusion of that basketball season, so early spring the following year, we started a search for a new coach. We hired Larry in, I think it was April of that year. It was an easy choice. So I guess that’s twenty-one and a half years ago Larry came into our family.”

  “Your family?”

  “Yes. The Delphi High team, we’re a family.”

  “You mean the basketball team?”

  “No. I mean the faculty, staff, administrators, coaches. We are a team. We are a family, in my mind.”

  Lord, Jack was doing my work for me. “So, you’d consider yourself close to Mr. Drazdowski.”

  “I was. Very. Yes.” Sydney swiped a finger beneath his eye. Jeanie squeezed my shoulder again. I knew her spidey senses were tingling as hard as mine were.

  “Did your relationship with Mr. Drazdowski go beyond professional then? In other words, did you socialize outside of the workplace?” Jack asked.

  “Absolutely. Larry Drazdowski was as solid a man as there ever was. He lived, breathed, and apparently died in service of those students.”

  “Your Honor, I’d ask that the last part of this witness’s answer be stricken,” I said.

  “Sustained, stick to facts, Mr. Sydney, not speculation,” Castor said.

  Sydney’s gaze fell to me. He had a glint in his eye I didn’t like one bit.

  “Mr. Sydney, when was the last time you spoke to the victim?” Jack asked.

  “We spoke all the time. Weekly. Larry was a single guy. My wife and I looked out for him. His parents are getting on in years and they live up near Traverse City. There were lots of times Larry was alone on certain holidays. When that happened, he’d come to our place. I loved that man.”

  Kevin Sydney teared up. He fidgeted with his tie.

  “Mr. Sydney, I know this is hard. I can’t even imagine the loss of a friend like that. But I have to ask you to answer my question. When w
as the last time you spoke to Larry Drazdowski?”

  “The night before he was murdered. He was going through some stuff. He got depressed sometimes. He was tough on himself. You have to understand. Those kids were everything to him. When one of them was going through something, it was like it was happening to him too. He had a hard time letting go.”

  “Did Mr. Drazdowski ever talk to you about the defendant, Miss Ames?”

  “Yes,” Sydney answered. My blood began to boil.

  “When was the last time you had a conversation with the victim about Miss Ames?”

  “I can’t say for sure. Maybe a few weeks before he … before all this. I wish I’d done something. I should have seen it. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

  “What won’t you forgive yourself for?”

  My heart thundered. Jeanie whispered to me again. “You have to stop this, now!”

  Aubrey started to hyperventilate. Every juror shifted in their seat. The roller coaster glided down the next hill. I gripped a pen in my right hand. But I said nothing. Instinct fueled me.

  “I didn’t understand it at the time for what it was,” Kevin said. “Larry was as codependent as they come with those kids. It’s what made him so great. It’s also what tortured him the most. But in this case. With Ms. Ames. I don’t know what was going on. But Larry said to me, I’ll never forget it. Kev, I think this girl is going to try to kill me.”

  The gallery behind me erupted in murmurs.

  “That’s a lie!” Aubrey whispered.

  I knew Jack expected me to make a hearsay objection. It was. Oh. It was. But I had to bite my lip past a smile. This was a dangerous gamble, but Kevin Sydney may have just opened a door Jack LaForge could never close.

  “I have nothing further,” Jack said, still smirking as he turned toward me. He didn’t realize it.

  Jeanie did. “Hot damn,” she whispered.

  He was lying. The bastard was making this shit up as he went. And it was going to be my supreme pleasure to expose him for the snake he was.

  Chapter 31

  Jack asked for a twenty-minute recess. I objected. Just a slight change in Jack’s color told me he was starting to realize what he’d done.

  “I just have a few questions for this witness on cross, Your Honor,” I said. “I’d really like to proceed now.”

  “Okay,” Judge Castor said.

  “And may I have permission to treat this witness as hostile, Your Honor?”

  “Granted,” Castor said.

  I dove right in.

  “Mr. Sydney. You considered Mr. Drazdowski like family, right?”

  “Of course. And I want justice for Coach D.”

  “Right. Justice. Of course. And yet, you never bothered to go to the police with this little gem you now want us to believe, did you?”

  “Objection …” Jack said.

  “Ms. Leary, thin ice here,” Castor replied.

  “You’ve never told the police about this conversation you claim to have had with Larry Drazdowski, have you?”

  “No ma’am, I didn’t. I regret that now.”

  “Mr. Sydney,” I continued. “At any point in Mr. Drazdowski’s tenure with Delphi High, were you aware of complaints made against him by students?”

  “Complaints? What kind of complaints? I mean, sure. And I told you this when we met. It wasn’t unusual to get a parent or two calling and complaining that their precious Johnny wasn’t getting enough playing time. But I took the position that it was up to my coaching staff to make judgment calls. There was never anything about what Larry was doing that I had issue with.”

  I gave the judge side-eye. He was already on top of it though.

  “Mr. Sydney,” he said. “I’m going to have to again admonish you to stick to the facts when you’re asked a question. Counselor?”

  “Mr. Sydney, I’m not asking about parents right now. I’m asking you if any students ever came to you to complain about Mr. Drazdowski’s behavior with them?”

  He took a great pause, chewed the side of his mouth, looked skyward, then leveled a hard stare back at me. “I don’t think I know what you mean.”

  “It’s pretty simple. Did any students ever come to you to lodge a complaint about Larry Drazdowski?”

  “Objection, Your Honor,” Jack said. “I’ve let this go longer than I should. To the extent counsel is asking about complaints about inappropriate behavior, that’s asking for hearsay.”

  “Sustained.”

  I knew this was the roadblock I’d face. But I was banking on the fact that Jack and Sydney had just given me hook I needed to hang Aubrey’s defense on. “I’m not asking for the substance of any complaints. I’m asking whether they were lodged by students in the first place. This goes to the witness’s credibility.”

  “I’ll allow the question on that limited basis. Mr. Sydney, you may answer.”

  He leaned far forward into the microphone. “No. I didn’t take student complaints on Larry Drazdowski.”

  “You didn’t take them, or they were never made?”

  “They were never made,” he said. “Not by students. Not once.”

  My heartbeat skipped. I had to remind myself to breathe. He couldn’t have just said that. I had to be hearing things. I wanted to repeat the question to convince myself I’d heard his answer correctly. Luckily, I knew better than to give him the chance to clean it up.

  “So you never took a meeting with a student by the name of Danielle Ford?”

  Sydney’s eyes narrowed. “No. Not that I recall.”

  “You never took a meeting with a student by the name of Lindsey Claussen?”

  “No. Not that I recall.”

  “And you never took a meeting with a student by the name of Chelsea Holbrook?”

  “No. Definitely not. And if there had been a problem, I would have counseled those students to address their concerns with Mr. Drazdowski first.”

  “Even if Mr. Drazdowski was the source of the problem? You’d have counseled those students to meet with him first? Alone?”

  I was pushing it with the last bit. Sydney’s face changed color. “I would … I suppose it would depend on the nature of the complaint.”

  “Well, assume the nature of the complaint was that Mr. Drazdowski was acting inappropriately with them. You’re telling me it was your policy to counsel that student to meet with Mr. Drazdowski alone first?”

  “Well, no. Not in that case. But I never received complaints that Mr. Drazdowski was behaving inappropriately toward a student so it’s a moot point.”

  Maybe, but I’d just gotten him to answer the question.

  “Mr. Sydney, who keeps your schedule of meetings?”

  “In my office? That would be my secretary, Karen Larsen.”

  “How long has Ms. Larsen worked for you in that capacity?”

  “I’m not sure. I had a few different secretaries. She’s been with me the longest though. You’d have to ask her yourself, but I’d say it’s fifteen or more years.”

  “Okay. Just so I’m clear. If you have a meeting scheduled in the course of your workday, Ms. Larsen is the one who keeps track of that.”

  “For sure. I’d be lost without her. She puts everything in an electronic calendar for me. And she keeps a book on her desk.”

  “I just want to go back to something you said earlier. This question of family. What does that mean to you? In the workplace, I mean.”

  I expected Jack to pop up with a relevancy objection. Miraculously, he didn’t. When I stole a glance over my shoulder, he was deep in hushed conversation with his paralegal.

  “It means we look out for each other. We’re a team. We have each other’s backs.”

  “Are the students part of that family in your mind?”

  “Are they what?”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I have nothing further.”

  Jack finished his whispering and rose. He shook his head, in an almost pantomime of confusion. He saw. He heard. He knew. Kevin Sydney ha
d just opened the floodgates on Larry Drazdowski.

  Chapter 32

  Two things happened on Friday, the fifth of November and the fifth day of trial. First, the prosecution rested its case against Aubrey Ames. The second thing came much later and was the thing I swore I’d never do again.

  As the jury filed back in, I scanned the gallery behind me. Praise the lord, Dan Ames sat in the row directly behind the defense table. Diane Ames sat beside him, sinking into her husband. Even Aubrey looked surprised as she turned back. Tears quickly sprang to her eyes and she turned back to face the bench. Good girl, I thought. She could cry later. I needed her focused and in control today.

  A few members of the press took up the back benches, including a sketch artist. The Detroit Free Press had picked up this story and was featuring it in their second news section this week. I had my own version of a cheering section here today too. Joe had shown up and Katy was with him. In the far corner of the courtroom, the mysterious Corwin had found a bench all to himself. Terrific. A few curious members of the Woodbridge County Sheriff’s department rounded out the spectators along with some D.P.D., including Detective Wray. He gave me a tight-lipped nod as I made eye contact. I’d seen him talking to Dan Ames in the hallway before court began. I was grateful for any moral support the Ames family could muster and realized the risk it was for him to associate with them.

  “You ready to call your first witness?” the judge asked me.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” I said, taking a breath. Here we go. “The defense calls Aubrey Ames to the stand.”

  There was a collective gasp through the courtroom. Aubrey rose beside me. She wore a pair of black dress pants and a royal blue blazer I’d pulled from my own closet over a simple white blouse. She had her hair pulled back into a bun. Just a touch of make-up. A little blush in her cheeks and mascara. Aubrey looked small, serious, very young, but most of all scared.

  The bailiff towered over her as she raised her right hand to be sworn in. I hadn’t planned it, but Judge Castor’s bailiff stood just over six feet tall. A full five inches shorter than Larry Drazdowski. Still, he dwarfed Aubrey. I hoped it resonated with the jury.