Contempt: A Legal Thriller

by Michael Cordell

  Thane knew it was time to head back, but not because of the growing darkness. Hannah had left him a voicemail an hour ago, asking him to come home. He’d almost canceled the trip to the park just for the wobble in her voice. He wanted to be back with his wife, but he had to see this through. He didn’t, however, have to take long doing so.

  As soon as he stood, Kristin was quick to follow suit. They walked around the hedges and headed across the park where they had left his car.

  “What time is it?”

  Thane held up his watch-less wrist, then nodded toward a flashing neon time-and-temp display on the wall of the bank on their left. Seven o’clock: definitely time to get back to Hannah.

  When they reached the other side of the park, Thane saw that the small grocery store across the street to their left was once again manned by Mr. Song, who was wheeling in a cart of fruit from the sidewalk. Thane stopped and watched Mr. Song go back into his store. He then looked at the bench next to him, the one with no slats on the seat.

  “What’s up?” Kristin asked.

  “Song originally told Gideon he saw Skunk sitting on a bench in the park most of the night.”

  “Yeah?”

  “But he wouldn’t have been able to see him sitting on the other bench. The hedges would have blocked his view.”

  “But he obviously didn’t sit here,” Kristin said.”

  “Then how could he have seen him?”

  Kristin shrugged. “But later he said he didn’t see him at all, so who knows what really happened?” She glanced around again. “Maybe we should be getting back,” she said. “This doesn’t feel like the safest place to hang around after dark.”

  “Where is nowadays?” Thane said. “Everywhere you look, there are bars on the windows, padlocks on the doors, security systems . . . I can’t imagine working at a convenience store or liquor store around here.”

  When they reached the car, Thane pulled out his keys, then stopped. Kristin tugged the locked door handle, then looked up to see him staring straight ahead at the bank.

  “You okay?”

  He looked back over at the park bench, then turned his gaze to survey the neighborhood. Finally, he turned back toward Kristin, closely scrutinizing her for a moment to size her up.

  “In school you learned the book version of the legal practice,” he said. “But if you’re really as ambitious as I think you are, I’m wondering if you’re up to seeing how the game’s really played.”

  Thane sat in the worn reading chair in the living room with a folder of papers balanced on one leg, but that was all he was doing with it. He had instinctively picked up the folder filled with police reports and other testimonies pertaining to their case, but he couldn’t motivate himself to review it. He knew that what was to come wouldn’t have any corroborating report in his files. From here on, pieces of paper were irrelevant.

  The sound of Hannah putting away dishes spilled out from the kitchen. He had offered to help once they were through with dinner, but she told him to go into the living room to relax.

  She made some pasta with shrimp and vegetables, and opened the last bottle of wine she had bought when Thane was released. Over dinner, she told him about life on her own, and about her relationship with Paul. She said that she always knew in her heart of hearts that she wasn’t ever going to marry Paul, but he did so much to help her rebuild some semblance of a normal life. She was grateful to him and fond of him, but she was not in love with him—not the sort of love she had always felt for Thane.She also spoke of the fear she had felt, first in the courthouse when Thane yelled at her, then again in the bookstore when he was fighting Paul. She simply wanted all of this to go away and for life to get back to the way it used to be, but she realized it was naïve of her to think there wouldn’t be challenging times. She said she also realized she was ready to take on those times and see them through, as long as it meant coming through to the other side with Thane.

  He sat in the living room, listening as she rinsed out the sink, the dishes now washed and put away. She walked into the living room, drying her hands on a bright red dishtowel, then seated herself on one end of the sofa.

  “How’s it coming?” she asked.

  “Little by little.”

  He tossed the folder of papers onto the coffee table and leaned forward in the chair, exhausted. Hannah stood, walked behind him, and started massaging his shoulders. His body immersed itself with the feel of her touch. He couldn’t imagine being away from her again, and he would do whatever it took to make sure that never happened.

  “Tell me what you’re feeling,” she said. “You don’t have to keep things locked up anymore.”

  He didn’t speak at first, unsure if he could trust himself to stop if he opened up. There was so much he wanted to talk to her about, to share with her as he always had prior to his arrest, but he had spent the past five years creating crevices within himself to hide feelings and thoughts. It was necessary in order to keep the magnitude of their situation from overwhelming him. He finally said what he could, even though it was only stating the obvious.

  “I feel bad for Skunk, being back in prison. He doesn’t deserve this. But I’ll make it right by him.”

  “I’m committed to seeing this through with you, but I have to ask: What will this do to you if you lose? What will it do to us?”

  “I’m not going to lose. I know that sounds delusional, but please trust me. I have a plan.”

  Hannah massaged his tense muscles a few moments longer, then stopped, resting her hands on his shoulders. Thane knew she was trying to be as supportive as she could, but that the enormity of all this still weighed heavily on her.

  “But if it does go the other way?” she asked.

  “I won’t be doing this again. Capital murder. Going up against Stone. It’s a one-time shot, I swear to you. And then I’ll move on.”

  “I think it’s time.”

  “Just about,” he said. “Just about.”

  He reached up and took hold of one of her hands, clutching it tight as if afraid some unseen force was going to come and try to pull her away. He then closed his eyes, but didn’t release her hand.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Thane went back to work around ten, following the first real night’s sleep he’d gotten in what seemed like weeks. Being back with Hannah was like leaving a great wilderness—but as safe as he felt, the bond still seemed fragile, as though there was one more piece that needed to fall into place.

  And he knew what that was. He had always known.

  He entered his office and saw Gideon stretched out on the sofa, an open bottle of beer on the floor within easy reach. “You sure spend a lot of time here,” Thane said.

  “Hard as it might be for you to imagine, this dump is nicer than my place, even after it got shot up.”

  Thane was embarrassed to admit he hadn’t really imagined Gideon’s life on the outside, although he also knew there wasn’t anything he could do about that just yet.

  “Where’s Valley Girl?” Gideon asked.

  “It’s Sunday.”

  Gideon grabbed his beer and sat up, scratching his head with his free hand. “Guess that explains why I was the first one here. Keeping track of what day it is isn’t something I’ve gotten used to yet.” He took a deep swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his shirt sleeve. “She’s got spunk, I’ll give her that. But at the risk of sounding all negative, you sure we can trust her? I’m just saying—you know somebody told Stone about me talking to that Korean fuckhead. Maybe the mighty DA is tailing us, but I doubt he could do that without me knowing it. So I’m thinking maybe somebody must have fed him that info.”

  “And you think it was Kristin?”

  “I’m just saying she wants to get ahead, is all. And I can’t imagine Stone would turn down her help, especially if she had information he wanted.�
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  “Well, we’ll find out soon whether or not we can trust her. She and I went to the park yesterday where I got an idea. If she goes and tells Stone about it, then we’re screwed.”

  “I was born screwed,” Gideon said, “so that don’t bother me much. You got some things to live for.” Gideon tipped the bottle up to his mouth until he had drained the last drops. “I met Hannah,” he continued. “She stopped by yesterday. Asked me not to tell you, but I never could keep a secret.”

  “Did you talk to her?”

  “A little. I like her, but she seems kind of confused.”

  “Being with me will do that to you.”

  “I’m impressed she waited five years for a loser like you.”

  “She shouldn’t have.”

  “But she did. Damn, if I had a woman like that in my corner, well, I’d spend more time in my corner.”

  “We used to be perfect together,” Thane said. “Now I don’t know. Things have changed. I’ve changed.”

  “So change back.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “You love her. Who gives a damn if it’s easy?”

  Thane sat up straight. “After this case, I’m going to try and change back. I just have to see this through first.”

  Gideon chuckled. “You sound like a criminal. Just one last job.”

  Stone leaned against the edge of his desk and motioned for the young woman standing in his office to have a seat. It wasn’t unusual for him to be working on a Sunday afternoon; in fact, he considered it a regular part of his work week.

  It was, however, far from routine to be meeting with a junior member of the Defense team.

  But the young graduate had been insistent when she called him at home the previous evening. He didn’t know how she had gotten his phone number, but if there was one thing he could tell about her, it was that she was resourceful. That, and she had a strong desire to succeed at any cost. It was this more than anything else that made him agree to meet her.

  Kristin stood behind one of the chairs positioned in front of Stone’s desk, holding onto the back of it. “I appreciate your willingness to meet with me on a Sunday, Mr. Stone,” she said.

  “To be honest, it’s not entirely appropriate that we’re meeting at all.”

  “I understand. Just out of curiosity, why did you agree to do it?”

  “I’ve been watching you in court. I think you have a bright future in law, even if you’ve had the poor judgement to involve yourself with Thane Banning.”

  “He’s not as bad as you think he is.”

  “I know. But we all have our parts we have to play. And while I think I understand why you went to work with him, I’m still not sure it was your best move. As for why I’m meeting with you, you sounded troubled when you called. I thought I could help you.”

  Kristin bit her bottom lip. “I have a lot of big plans, and I don’t want to mess them up before I even finish my first case.” She hesitated. “Thane found something that might prove our client’s innocence.”

  Stone’s stomach tightened, but he stayed alert, studying this young woman’s face, wondering if he was being conned. But on the other hand, he had dealt with liars for his entire prosecutorial career—if she wasn’t on the level, he’d know. He was sure of that.

  “So why come to me?”

  “Because if the evidence doesn’t prove Mr. Burns’s innocence, it will prove his guilt, in which case Thane plans to destroy the evidence.”

  “Which is illegal.”

  She nodded, dejected. “He told me that it was time for me to learn how the game was really played. I know I’m young, and maybe I’m naïve, but I’ve never considered this a game. But more than anything, I can’t risk being disbarred before I’m twenty-five. Christ, my parents would kill me.”

  He studied her for a long moment, his mind working. Her left foot tapped the floor relentlessly, keeping beat to a tune no one else could hear.

  “So where do I fit in?” he asked.

  She fidgeted, then drew in a deep breath. “I figured if I told you, off the record, you could check it for yourself. If it helps convict our client, so be it. But if it proves his innocence, you can’t hide the evidence, since I already know about it.”

  Stone shot her one of his trademark glares, immediately sending her verbally scrambling. “Not that you would! I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. It’s just . . . this is the best solution I could come up with. If both sides know about the evidence, then we’ll let the truth speak for itself. That’s all I want. Thane won’t call until tomorrow to try to get it, so you can get there first if you decide to. Obviously it’s your call, but at least I can feel like I’ve done the right thing.”

  Stone considered her story. Every prosecutorial cell in his body screamed out in alarm, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized it couldn’t be a trick: if both sides knew about a piece of evidence, it couldn’t be much more straightforward than that. It was what the legal system was built on.

  He reached over his desk and grabbed a legal pad and a pen.

  “What kind of evidence are we talking about here?”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-NINE

  Donald Davis, Chief of Security of the Union Bank of Los Angeles, pulled up to the gray stone bank where Bradford Stone and Simon Keaton had been waiting outside for over half an hour. A trim man in his early fifties wearing a bright red and blue plaid shirt, he had both men show him their badges before unlocking the door to the bank. Stone figured Davis had to have recognized him from TV, but was probably just trying to make things a little harder for them in retaliation for being called into work on a Sunday afternoon. After they entered the bank, Davis locked the door behind him.

  “I appreciate your coming down here on such short notice,” Stone said.

  “You pulled me away from my daughter’s birthday party,” Davis grumbled. “If we can make this quick, that would be good.”

  “Soon as I get the security footage, you can be on your way.”

  Davis led the two men to a small office off the main lobby of the bank, which served as his work area. The desk looked as if it belonged to a hoarder: stacks of files, documents, and folders teetered on every inch of its surface. A small bookshelf on one side of the room, however, was immaculately organized with video boxes and DVD jewel cases. Davis walked over to the shelf, scanned the labeled cases with his index finger, then pulled one of the DVD’s off the shelf, handing it to Stone.

  “Here.”

  Stone looked at the shiny DVD inside the clear plastic case. “This is July twenty-eighth?”

  “It covers all of July. That’s the period of time you said you wanted.”

  “And it covers twenty-four hours a day?” Stone asked.

  “Each and every one of them. Can I go home now?”

  “Go and tell your daughter you gave her a safer city for her birthday.”

  “She’d rather have an iPhone.”

  Half an hour later, Stone sat at the end of a mahogany conference table, the centerpiece of his personal conference room. Winston, looking out of place in a pair of khaki shorts and a L.A. Laker’s T-shirt, entered the room hurriedly, huffing and puffing from hustling down the hall.

  “I got here fast as I could,” he said. “What’s up?” He dropped into a chair immediately to Stone’s right and looked over at Keaton, who was setting up a portable DVD player in the middle of the table. A flat screen monitor on the wall flickered on, glowing bright blue, ready for showtime. Stone stared intently into the glow, ignoring his colleague, so Winston turned to Keaton.

  “What’s that?” Winston asked.

  “There’s an ATM across the street from Armor Park. We got the machine’s security video.”

  “Play the damn thing, would you?” Stone barked.

  “It’s almost ready.
Let me punch in the date and time.”

  Keaton thumbed a few buttons on the remote control. An image appeared on the monitor, a surprisingly clear shot of the area around the ATM. While the main focus was the space in front of the machine, part of the background was also in frame, enough for the three men to identify the individual sitting on a park bench across the street: Scotty “Skunk” Burns.

  Stone shot up out of his chair, sending it clattering away.

  “Goddamn it! Fast forward that thing.”

  Keaton obliged. Stone simply stood at attention, watching the images flash by. Skunk kept sitting on the bench, barely moving. Finally, Stone signaled Keaton to turn off the projector.

  Keaton took out the disk, looking as if he wanted to snap it in two. “How the hell did the cops not think to check the ATM security camera?” he asked. “It’s right across the street!”

  “Because when they checked the park, there was only one bench with a place to sit down, and it was out of view of the ATM machine,” Stone said. “The cops assumed that’s where Burns sat, but Banning must have figured maybe somebody moved the slats off the bench where Burns was that night––the damn boards just lift up––and the police report didn’t mention checking the security tapes. He must have noticed that, too.”

  Keaton put the disk back into the machine and punched some numbers into the remote. The date read July twenty-ninth at 8:00 a.m., the morning after the murder, then he hit the fast forward button. At around 9:30 a.m., footage showed a homeless man picking up the slats from the seat in the bench across from the ATM machine and carrying them around the other side of the shrubs and out of sight of the camera.

  “A drunk wanting to sleep in the sun,” Winston said.