“What? Ricin? What the hell are you talking about!”
Baldwin interlaced his fingers on the table. “Zachary, come on. We have a good relationship, me and you. Let’s not bullshit each other. You were having an affair with Kathy, and if her husband found out, shit would hit the fan, right? I mean, I get why maybe you had to kill her—but Angie? If you had to, I don’t know, make these paintings a reality for whatever reason, seems like you’d pick someone other than the girlfriend you live with, or at least take out an insurance policy on her. But we didn’t find one of those. So why do it?”
Zachary’s lip began to quiver. The reality of what was happening hit him. Yardley stepped toward the glass, staring at his face, trying to pick up any subtle clue as to what he was actually thinking.
“I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Zachary—”
“No! Don’t ‘Zachary’ me. I didn’t kill anyone, damn it!” Zachary slammed his fists on the table. He rose and shouted, “I didn’t kill anyone!”
Garrett went for his weapon, and Baldwin shook his head. Garrett slowly lowered his hand to his side but kept it near the gun.
“Zachary, I’m going to need you to sit down.”
“This is bullshit! I didn’t do this.”
“Then we’ll work it out. But first I need you to sit down and stop shouting.”
Zachary sat down, shaking his head. “I knew this was a mistake. Helping you. I’ve seen all those documentaries about how you arrest the wrong man and once it’s in your head, you don’t let it go. You ruin lives, and you’re trying to ruin mine.”
“No one is trying to ruin your life. I’m trying to help you.”
Zachary leaned forward. “I. Did. Not. Kill. Anyone.” He glanced at Garrett before looking back to Baldwin. “I want a lawyer.”
“You don’t want to do that. It’s much easier if we just talk, just you and me.”
Yardley opened the door. “Mr. Zachary has asked for a lawyer. This interview is over.”
Garrett shook his head but looked at Baldwin to see what to do. Baldwin had a slight curl to his lip but rose and left the room anyway.
Out in the hall, Garrett stared at Yardley and said, “I didn’t realize we had a defense attorney at the US Attorney’s Office.”
“Hey,” Baldwin said, “she was right: anything we got after would be thrown out.”
Garrett sucked something out of his teeth and said, “I’m going home, Cason. Call me if there’s anything.”
Yardley leaned back against the wall, watching Zachary through the glass.
“You could’ve asked to speak with me outside,” Baldwin said. “You didn’t have to make me look like I didn’t know what I was doing in front of Garrett. It was a little insulting.”
“I didn’t insult you, Cason. This investigation and prosecution have to be done carefully.”
He took a deep breath and looked at Zachary, whose foot was now furiously tapping the floor as he rubbed his fingers together. “I guess we should get him his lawyer.”
32
“Dylan!”
Dylan Aster felt weight on his chest. It was suffocating him, taking his breath away. He’d had an extraordinarily fat Saint Bernard as a kid that would sit on his chest some mornings; it had felt like a boulder was crushing him, and that was how he felt now.
“Dylan!”
He opened his eyes to see Lily Ricci above him. He was lying on the couch in his office. His tie and suit coat were slung over a chair, but he still wore his slacks and dress socks.
“It’s eight,” she said.
“Oh shit.”
He jumped up and buttoned his shirt. A small sink was behind his desk, the reason why he paid an extra fifty a month for this office, and he rinsed his mouth with Scope, ran a comb through his short brown hair, tried to cover up the scar at the base of his neck with his shirt collar the best he could, and then threw on his shoes as he ran for the door.
“What do you have?” he said as he ran out, Ricci grabbing her satchel before joining him.
“Motion hearing uptown. You need to be in Cook’s court now and Prescott’s at eight thirty.”
He jogged to the elevator, Ricci hurrying behind him, as he took out his phone and pulled up the clients he had this morning. Henry Smith Miller in Judge Cook’s court and Eve Rachel Rodriguez in Prescott’s court. Then he had three other clients across town at the municipal court.
The law offices of Aster & Ricci took up two rooms in the Biltmore Building across the street from the Clark County District Court. He nearly got clipped by a cab as he dashed across the street. Ricci shouted after him, “Get our money from Eve!”
“I will.”
The Clark County District Court was a square building of multicolored sections that looked like LEGO pieces forced together. Aster hurried up the steps of the courthouse and to the metal detectors.
“Frank, I’m in a huge hurry.”
“Can’t do it. You know that,” the burly bailiff said.
Aster impatiently waited for his turn. Someone started arguing with the bailiff about taking their shoes off, and Aster half wished Frank would tase them to get the line moving.
When he finally rushed through, Frank told him to have a good one, and he shouted the same without turning around as he sprinted for the elevators.
Judge Cook was already on the bench. He started court at eight and expected the lawyers to be there ten minutes early. He stared at Aster as he hurried past the audience and joined the other attorneys in the gallery seats behind the defense and prosecution tables.
Monday morning roll call calendars were the busiest calendars on the criminal court docket. Aster guessed two hundred people were crammed into a room meant for half that. Ten lawyers sat waiting their turn, eyeing each other to see if anyone wasn’t paying attention so they could cut in line. Since Aster was last, he took out his phone and browsed his case files.
Miller’s case was a straightforward car burglary. He’d been breaking into cars in his neighborhood and stealing whatever valuables he could. Aster saw that his legal bills were paid up, unlike Eve Rodriguez.
“Mr. Aster,” Judge Cook said, “thank you for joining us today.”
“Um, thank you, Your Honor.”
“Since you feel it’s your courtroom and you can come in whenever you like, why don’t we call your case now.”
“Your Honor, everybody here was ahead of me.”
“No, no, I insist. You clearly believe you can do what you like in your courtroom, so let’s just have you run the show, shall we? Who do you have?”
Aster glanced at the other attorneys, who were shooting poison at him from their eyes. He pictured the scene from Full Metal Jacket where the trainee was beaten by his fellow recruits because he’d caused all of them to be punished.
“Um, I have Henry Miller, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Miller, please come forward.”
Aster stood with Henry at the lectern. The judge pulled up his file and said, “What are we doing here today, Mr. Aster?”
“Just setting the matter for a motion to suppress the evidence based on probable cause.” Aster figured the judge had made his point and was moving on.
“Yes, of course,” Cook said. “Shall I just dismiss the case for you now? It’s your courtroom; please tell me what you’d like to do.”
Aster’s discomfort was turning to anger. He’d been a few minutes late, and there was a line of attorneys ahead of him anyway. He hadn’t affected the proceedings in any way. Cook was just exercising his power because he could. Few things bothered Aster as much as someone who picked on others because they could.
“Yes, Your Honor, I would like you to dismiss the case now, that would be great, thank you. Also, could we get the prosecution to pay for Mr. Miller’s parking? It’s expensive as hell down there.”
Cook’s eyes went wide. He stared with venom at Aster.
Aster didn’t budge. A contempt hearing could take half an hour. He was betting C
ook wouldn’t want to get that behind schedule. He hoped, anyway.
The judge’s lip curled as he said, “Four weeks enough time, Mr. Goff?”
The prosecutor stood up and said, “That’s fine, Your Honor.”
“June twenty-sixth at three p.m. If you’re late again, Counselor, I’ll have you held in contempt, are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
Once they were out of the courtroom, Aster told Henry to call him if he had any questions but that he would reach out to him before the next hearing to go over his testimony. Then Aster sprinted to Judge Prescott’s court, fully expecting to go another round with a judge for being late—and he still had three hearings to go today.
33
Yardley saw Jax standing in the hallway of the US Attorney’s Office, hitting on one of the paralegals. Her arms were folded, and she had her left hand with her wedding ring on top, making sure Jax saw it.
“Kyle,” Yardley interrupted, “can I talk to you?”
He said, “In a minute,” without looking at her.
“Now, please. I won’t be here long.”
He turned his gaze toward her as he grimaced, and she figured it was a tell of his that showed frustration. She didn’t bother advising him to correct it, that there were defense attorneys good enough to use it to push him to lose his temper in front of a jury.
“All right,” he said, barely able to hide his disdain. She followed him toward her former office. He sat down, putting his feet up on the desk, making a point to bang his cowboy boots against the smooth surface. “So? What’d you want to talk about?”
“When are you going to the grand jury?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“I don’t think we should yet.”
“Why not? We got him cold.”
“It’s jurisdictional. I have to figure out a way to keep this in federal court.”
“We can take a murder if it happens during a felony sex crime. It’s cool. There was semen found inside Kathy Pharr, and there was bruising and tearing.”
“The forensic nurse who performed the SAFE kit said the results were inconclusive, and he was having a consensual affair with her. She was also married and Tucker doesn’t remember if they had sex that day. I’m just saying let’s take a little time with it. Make sure we have good grounds to keep this in federal court before we go headfirst into it. And we don’t know how they met; if they met on a dating app, I’d say we have solid grounds to keep it federal because of the commerce clause. Same thing with the ricin. He had to order it from out of state, so we can make an argument there that it should stay federal. But let’s take it a little slow and find out for sure. Otherwise we need to give this case to the DA’s Office.”
Jax scoffed. “Whatever. Grand juries indict on anything. And I’m not handing over the biggest case of my career to some Podunk farmer DA.”
“Kyle,” she said with a sigh, as though talking to a child, “let me work out jurisdiction first. We can always get the DA to dismiss, and we’ll file it up here later.”
“We can just amend it later if there’s a problem.”
“You can’t amend an indictment for murder in Nevada. It has to go through the grand jury again. If you go to them now and they decline to charge him, you can’t bring the same charges again unless there’s new evidence. We could miss our shot if the grand jury declines it.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, let the eggheads in Research figure that out. I’m going forward with murder.”
She took a breath and sat down across from him. “Kyle, listen to me. I know you want to make your mark out here, and this case is a big one with a lot of attention, but you need to be careful. This isn’t some person who stole a television or is dealing marijuana to his friends in the neighborhood. If Michael Zachary killed his lover and tried to kill his girlfriend, he’s extremely dangerous. You cannot risk him getting out.”
“I appreciate the mentoring, but I told you, I’ve done a lot of trials. A lot. I came up prosecuting biker gangs rolling through Wyoming. I’ve had my house broken into twice, gotten my car set on fire, and had some bikers run my mom off the road. And guess what? I’m still here. I don’t scare easy. And just because I’m young doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing. You attack with an asshole like Zachary. Attack, attack, attack, until the defense doesn’t know what to do and takes our offer. I’ve done it a million times.”
“Have you ever prosecuted a serial murderer?”
“Murder is murder.”
“It’s not the same.”
He sighed. “Okay, you’ve said your piece. You done?”
She shook her head. She couldn’t hold back anymore. “You’re an arrogant little shit, and you’re going to get people killed.”
Yardley stormed out of his office and went to the restroom to calm down. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, picturing a forest with a stream that sounded like water being poured into a glass. It was rare for her to lose her composure, and she didn’t like it. Anger was the most dangerous of all emotions because it overtook every other one. But why this case? Why was the anger bubbling up in this case when it didn’t in others? The only answer was Angela River. There was a risk that if Zachary was released, she would be the one paying the penalty for their mistakes.
Yardley left the restroom and went to Lieu’s office. He was on the phone and held up a finger. She sat down across from him and waited until he was done.
“Exciting news, isn’t it?” he said after hanging up. “You did good work on the Executioner case, Jessica. If you need a recommendation for other employment, wherever you end up, don’t hesitate to put me down as a professional reference.”
“Roy, you need to take over the prosecution. You can’t let Kyle do it.”
He watched her quietly a second. “Why not?”
“This shouldn’t be his first case here. He’s not ready.”
Jax said from the door, “Hey, you got something to say to me, say it to my face.”
“I think I already did,” she said without turning.
“I don’t need help, Roy.”
Lieu looked to him, then back to Yardley. “We’ve discussed our strategy going forward. I’m supervising him. You don’t need to worry; it’ll be handled well.”
“You didn’t listen to me once on a case like this, Roy, and it very nearly resulted in Wesley being released. At some point, you’re going to have to trust me.”
“I said that I’m supervising him.”
“Then supervise him. Tell him to give the case to the DA until federal jurisdiction is established without any doubt.”
“That true?” Lieu said to Jax, who had moved next to his desk. “Do we have jurisdiction issues?”
“It’s not going to be a problem. Semen was found in his first victim, along with some bruising and tearing. And I’ll bet they met on a dating app. Both of them have profiles; we just need to go through their histories. It’s enough for a grand jury to conclude it should stay federal. We need to get the indictment in now to put pressure on whoever is going to be his attorney. We can’t wait.”
Lieu turned to Yardley with a look that said, Is that enough for you?
Yardley rose. “Fine. Do what you want. It’s not my problem anymore.”
34
Aster finished up all his court appearances by the afternoon. Ricci texted him that she was done as well. They met at a Mexican fast-food place. He loosened his tie as he drank down his soda in large gulps.
“Did you get our money from Eve?” Ricci asked as she ate a tortilla chip.
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“She had it with her, but I couldn’t take it. It was her grocery money.”
“Dylan, it’s always their grocery money, or their rent money, or their baby formula money. These people say the same thing to their credit card companies, doctors, car insurance people, whatever.”
“She’s an old lady. I couldn’t take it fro
m her. She promised she would pay us everything soon.”
Ricci shook her head. “No, she won’t.”
“It’s cool. We’re fine. The public defender contracts will be renewed for another six months soon and we’re good.”
“And then what? I’m sick of relying on these contracts and getting an ulcer every six months not knowing if they’ll be renewed.”
“Hey, when we left the legal aid office, we both agreed there would be lean times and we couldn’t freak out. It takes three years, at least, to break even with your own firm. We read that together, remember?”
She sighed. “I’m just sick of barely scraping by.”
“Let me do the worrying. No point in both of us doing it. Besides, you should just marry Jake and get it done with already. He’s loaded.”
“He’s definitely marriage material, but I’ve already got one adult who acts like a child to take care of. I can’t handle two right now.”
“Who’s the other one?” he asked honestly. When she didn’t reply, he said, “Oh.” He drank another sip of soda. “Let me worry about the business, Lil. Everything will be cool, I promise.”
“This is my business, too, Dylan. I’ve dreamed about my own law firm since I was on the debate team in high school. If this doesn’t work, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t want to work for anyone else. And even if I did, believe it or not, the good ole boys at the big firms are not in a rush to hire thirty-five-year-old female veterans with criminal histories.”
“Hey, that guy deserved the bottle over the head. Not your fault. And you are not going to have to go to any firms. I promise. Just give it time. We’re kicking ass and getting a reputation. It takes time for that to spread.”
“And that’s another thing that pisses me off. You’re ten times the defense attorney these jokers are, and they’re the ones on TV and getting hundred-grand retainers. You deserve that, not them.”
He chuckled. “I grew up cramped in a trailer with my mama and sister. I thank God every morning that I’m where I’m at and making what I make. I got a roof, clothes, enough to eat, and some money at the end of the month. I’m blessed.”
Crimson Lake Road (Desert Plains) Page 13