Pas de Deux

by Jamie Craig

  The second bed was empty as well. Dirty linens were left in the visitor’s chair, with fresh sheets sitting on top of the thin mattress.

  Duke went back to the door and double-checked the number. Four-twenty. This was it. With no choice now but to ask for help, he returned to the nurses’ station and waited for her to finish with a phone call before speaking.

  “I’m Detective Owen Duke,” he said, flashing his badge again. “I’m looking for Detective Saucedo from room four-twenty. Has he been taken for tests?”

  The nurse shook her head. She was a pretty thing, with caramel-colored skin and flashing black eyes, who didn’t look old enough to have finished high school, let alone have her nursing credentials. The name tag over her ample breast read Nurse Iniguez, LPN. “Mr. Saucedo was discharged this morning. He’s already gone home.”

  “Discharged? When I called earlier, nobody mentioned that.”

  She shrugged in obvious apology. “I’m sorry, sir.” Her eyes brightened. “Wait, did you say your name was Duke?” At his nod, she pushed her chair back to disappear beneath the counter. “Before he left, Mr. Saucedo gave me something.” Her head popped back up, black hair swinging around her shoulders. In her hand was a white, legal size envelope. “He told me to only give it to you.”

  With a frown, Duke took it from her, turning it over to examine the exterior. Nothing was written across the front. The flap was sealed shut. “Thank you,” he said automatically.

  She flashed a brilliant smile. “I’m just glad you came in. Saved me the postage. Mr. Saucedo told me what precinct to mail it to, in case you didn’t show.”

  Duke murmured another thank you and headed toward the elevators again, this time measurably slower. Saucedo had anticipated his arrival, even though they hadn’t spoken since his attack. Perhaps these were the missing case notes. He could have had them at home and realized they were missing from the file. This was his way of making sure Duke got them.

  He waited until he was back in his car before slitting it open. When he pulled out the missing files, he almost smiled in satisfaction. Until he saw the sticky note attached to the front page.

  You were never supposed to see these.—Saucedo.

  Chapter 8

  Scott knew he should be relieved that the judge had listened to him. Hector Young’s arraignment would be a farce, the charges dropped, the man free to go. Even Terrell had called him to say he was pleased with the result of Scott’s work. And why shouldn’t he be? Hector Young’s case would provide the sort of publicity to the firm that they simply couldn’t buy. A young man nearly losing his life due to a corrupt police force, until James Scott rode in like a knight on his white steed, ready to fight the good fight until justice was served. Scott had already received several comments congratulating him on his wise move—as though it had been premeditated. Scott had hoped for this sort of happy ending, but he had never counted on it. Not quite.

  But instead of thinking about Hector’s second chance, or Scott’s inevitable corner office, his mind kept drifting to Owen Duke. He had called early in the afternoon to update him on the drive-by, but that was it. There was no discussion of their conversation the night before. No casual mention of how much Duke had enjoyed breakfast. No acknowledgement that for a brief moment, it had seemed like they were going to kiss. And no hint that maybe in a few days, when things had died down, they could see each other in a more social context.

  The more Scott tried to push Duke out of his head, the more Duke seemed to burrow in. There was a sprinkle of cinnamon on his latte, which led to a brief reflection on how Duke had smelled vaguely of cinnamon. Later, he paused to muse on how Duke’s eyes were almost the color of cinnamon sticks. A few times, his mind drifted to Duke’s description of his perfect date. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be on the receiving end of all Duke’s energy—Scott had no doubt that Duke would approach relationships the same way he approached his job. With a devoted, single-minded intensity.

  If he had to guess, he would say that Duke had been interested in him as well. But Duke would probably be quick to say there would always be a conflict of interest, as long as he was a detective and Scott was an active defense attorney. Normally, that wouldn’t even begin to dissuade Scott from pursuing somebody he wanted, but he had the feeling Duke wouldn’t be worn down. It probably wouldn’t hurt to call him one more time. Maybe after Duke had the case wrapped up, and the real murderer arrested.

  The buzzing of the phone pulled Scott from his thoughts. Even though it was Sunday, Monica had been a godsend, agreeing to come in and help him keep Hector’s case moving. “You have a call from Hector Young,” she announced.

  Scott frowned. “Transfer him over.”

  He barely had a chance to utter a greeting before Hector’s voice spilled over the speaker. “They said I did it. They keep saying I did it. That it had to be me. They keep saying it was me, but I never did nothing. I didn’t…”

  “Wait. Wait. Slow down, Hector. One thing at a time.” Scott spoke soothingly, though his spine had stiffened. There was an edge of pure panic in Hector’s tone that he had never heard there before. “What happened?”

  “I’m being…I’m being charged…they said to call you because I’m being charged…”

  “What do you mean, you’re being charged? You’ve already been charged, but listen, Hector, that’s not—”

  “No. Johnny died. They said I did it.”

  Scott swallowed. “Who is Johnny?”

  “Johnny Fender. My cellmate. He was killed. They said it was me.”

  Scott’s lips thinned. He honestly could not say that he was surprised. Somebody clearly wanted Hector Young to stay in jail. But who? And why? Somebody who obviously had a good amount of power and authority. Enough to get one man killed in order to frame an innocent man. The rot of corruption easily reached the very top of the chain. Anybody could be involved. There was only one man in this mess that Scott could conceivably trust.

  “Do not say anything to anybody. I’m going to be there as soon as I can. In the meantime, clam up. Don’t even answer if they offer you a glass of water.”

  “Okay. Okay. I didn’t do it.”

  “That’s good. But don’t even say that. Don’t say a word. Understand?”

  “I understand.”

  Scott hung up the phone without further instructions and barked for Monica. She arrived almost instantly, her Palm Pilot in hand, ready for whatever orders Scott wanted to give.

  “Clear my schedule for the foreseeable future.” Scott stood and shrugged on his jacket. “Clear it of everything. I’ve got lead on two cases right now. Call Roberts and tell him he’s the lead now, and he should file whatever motions he can to delay the court dates.”

  “What about the depositions?”

  “Reschedule them if possible. Otherwise, let Shelley know that she’s taking them over.”

  “They’re going to want to know why.”

  Scott snapped his briefcase closed. “There’s been an emergency.”

  “Is something wrong with Mr. Young?”

  “You could say that. He’s going to be charged with first-degree murder.”

  “But I thought…”

  “New victim. New case. New opportunity to get him stuck behind bars.”

  Monica frowned. “What’s going on here?”

  “That’s what I intend to find out.” He fished Duke’s card out of his jacket pocket and turned it over to study the numbers. “Just do your best to give everybody the head’s up. I’ll sort out the mess later. And don’t forward anybody to my phone unless the word comes in on the Jenkins case.”

  “Okay. James?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What if he did it?”

  Scott shook his head. “That’s not the question you need to ask. I think the answer is a hell of a lot more scary if you ask what if he didn’t do it.”

  Monica bit her bottom lip. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. What if Terrell wants to speak to you?” />
  “Take a message,” Scott threw over his shoulder.

  He had decided to drive that morning instead of taking the bus, and now he was grateful for that impulsive decision. He felt each second scraping across his skin and down his back as he worked his way across the city to the precinct where Hector was being held. He drove with one hand on the wheel and used the other to dial Duke’s number several times. Each attempt was exactly the same. The phone rang six times and then kicked over to Duke’s voicemail. Why was he away from his cell? When would he be back? Scott only left one message, though he heard Duke’s curt outgoing message at least eight.

  His phone rang as he pulled onto the precinct’s street. He answered it on the first ring, both relieved and annoyed when Duke’s voice came over the line.

  “Where are you, James?”

  “I’m about two minutes from your desk. Where are you?”

  “I’m there now. Don’t come in yet. Park as far from the front door as you can, and I’ll meet you there.”

  Before Scott could protest, the line went dead.

  Scott’s first instinct was to ignore Duke’s instructions. He hadn’t traveled across the city just to have a little chat with the good detective. He had a client who needed him, and a mess to sort out before any other innocent people died. But if he alienated Duke, he would be working on the case completely alone. He didn’t really know much of what was going on, but he knew he didn’t want that.

  He found a free spot in the back corner of the lot, still clutching the phone in his hand hard enough for the corners to dig into his palm. Did Duke have some sort of explanation? Or was he going to announce that he thought Hector truly was guilty? Scott didn’t think he was in the mood to hear that right then.

  As he turned off the engine, a rap came on the passenger side window. Night was already falling over the city, but the sharp planes of Duke’s face were clearly visible through the glass, etched by the yellow streetlamps. Scott unlocked the door, shifting in his seat as an unsmiling Duke got in.

  “We can’t talk inside,” he said without preamble. “I’m being watched.”

  “By who?”

  “I just spent two hours with my captain, defending my investigation on Young. Nobody’s happy about your little visit to the judge today. So to answer your question, pretty much everybody at this point.”

  “But that didn’t last long, now did it?” Scott nearly growled with frustration. “Can we both agree that there’s definitely something rotten in the state of Denmark?”

  “Yes.” He shook his head. “I didn’t even know about the new charges until after Sager let me go. And when I went back to talk to him about it, he told me someone else was assigned to the Fender case.”

  Scott wasn’t surprised. He almost wished he had it in him to be surprised at news like this. “So…you find evidence that would exonerate Hector, they find a way to distract you for a few hours, and when you emerge from the office, you find that you’re no longer on the case, and Hector is still going to be charged with murder one. I guess the question now is why the hell somebody wants that kid in jail so damned bad.”

  “I don’t know if we’ll have an easy time finding out the answer to that.”

  Scott looked up, studying Duke’s profile. It revealed nothing of what he was thinking. “We?”

  “The Mayfield case is still open, and still mine. I’m not done just because everybody is trying to get Young behind bars.” He met Scott’s gaze, strong, steady. “Unless you think there isn’t a connection between the two murders.”

  “You know, if it’s a frame-up, you’re going to be investigating Saucedo, and probably getting IA involved. You sure you want to go that far?”

  “I’m not convinced Saucedo’s entirely in the wrong. He wouldn’t have given me the missing interviews, otherwise.” Duke paused, a muscle twitching in his cheek before he added, “According to the note he sent me, I was never supposed to know about them.”

  “Saucedo tampered with evidence in a murder investigation,” Scott said softly. “It doesn’t matter if he had a change of heart. Internal Affairs will be all over him if you pursue this.”

  “There is no ‘if’ here, James. I don’t have answers, and I’m not stopping until I get them. You’re not trying to talk me out of this, are you?”

  “No, I’m not. But you and I both know what’s at stake for you. You’ll be running up against a lot of resistance, and if this goes high enough, putting your whole career at risk.” Despite himself, Scott offered a half-smile. “I guess I should have known that wouldn’t stop you from finding the truth.”

  “That’s what matters here.” He rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and middle finger, ending with a pinch to the bridge of his nose. It was a weary gesture, making Scott wonder if he’d slept at all since leaving the apartment that morning. When he sighed, he dropped his hand heavily back onto his lap. “If I can’t believe the system is going to work, then I can’t do my job.”

  Scott reached over without thinking, his hand resting on Duke’s shoulder in a familiar, friendly way. “The system does work. Sometimes, it just needs a little help. That’s all. Who is in charge of the investigation? Anybody you know or trust?”

  “TJ Torney. He’s only been in the department for six months or so.” Duke snorted. “Sager said it was such an open-and-shut case, even Torney couldn’t mess it up.”

  “Okay.” Scott squeezed Duke’s shoulder gently, then forced himself to break the contact. “See what you can find on him. If…if Sager is at all responsible for the cover-up or the frame-up, he might not make the same mistake a third time of picking somebody he doesn’t have completely under his thumb.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” He turned unexpectedly, his face suddenly tight and fierce. “You have to take extra precautions. If this is as big as it looks like, yesterday’s attack might not be one of a kind.”

  “Wait. You think that is related to this?”

  “You said it yourself. Someone wants Young behind bars. Before I got the added evidence to help clear him today, the best way for that to happen was to get you off the case.”

  Scott blinked. “Yes, I suppose killing me would have succeeded in getting me off the case. What extra precautions do you suggest?”

  “You need to get out of your apartment, for starters. Do you have friends or family you can stay with for a while?”

  “Why wouldn’t my apartment be safe? Nobody is going to get past security, and nobody is going to scale up the side of the wall.”

  Duke lifted a brow. “Considering how high this frame-up could potentially reach, are you willing to risk your life that your building’s security is enough to keep them out?”

  “If it’s that high, what’s to stop them from tracking me down at work? And I certainly don’t want to drag any friends or family into this mess.”

  “Then hire a bodyguard for the time being.”

  “What about you? I mean…are you going to hire one?”

  In spite of the somber mood in the car, the corner of Duke’s mouth lifted. “If I can’t protect myself, then I really am in the wrong line of work.”

  “I don’t know anybody short of Superman who can protect himself from a bullet in the back,” Scott said grimly. “I’ll get a security detail. Though it’s going to put a real crimp in my social life.”

  “I know it’s inconvenient. You have my word I’ll do everything I can to figure this out. I just don’t want to see you end up a casualty in this, too.”

  “Well…I appreciate that. And I appreciate that you didn’t tell me to quit for my own safety. Or maybe you just know when to save your breath. I’ve got to get in there to see Hector. Can we meet tonight?”

  “We should,” Duke conceded. “I need to get some sleep, though, even if it’s only a couple hours. I’m not going to be any good to anyone if I don’t.”

  “Why don’t we meet at my place? That way, if we talk too long, you can just crash in my guest room.”

&n
bsp; Duke regarded him for several moments before nodding. “Maybe we should just count on that. It’ll make me feel better, knowing you’re safe tonight, too.”

  “Only if you promise me that you will not stay up all night again. I’m not going to have you walking around like a zombie because of me.”

  “I’m not even sure I could keep that promise if I made it.” Duke held out his hand in an obvious gesture for Scott to shake it. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you more from the start.”

  Scott didn’t hesitate to take Duke’s hand. “No hard feelings. The important thing is you trust me now. That we trust each other.”

  Duke’s grip was warm and strong, in spite of his alleged fatigue. Perhaps his exhaustion manifested instead in the extra seconds it took Duke to pull away, but Scott decided to deliberately believe Duke lingered to savor the touch.

  “I have a list of all the potential matches on the vehicle in the drive-by last night,” Duke said when he finally broke the contact. “You can look it over and see if any of the names seem familiar.”

  “Do you think it’ll be worth our time? I mean, if it was somebody…if it was a professional somebody hired to stop me from representing Hector, we’re not going to find a match.”

  “That’s why I’m giving it to you tonight. You can look it over after I crash. Unless you do all your legal work at godforsaken hours of the day.” A smile struggled to take hold on Duke’s face, but ultimately failed, leaving his eyes even bleaker. “People get caught because they make mistakes. At this point, we can’t afford to leave a single detail to chance. I need to find who’s responsible, James. No matter what.”

  “Well, we’re on the same page there,” Scott said. “I’ll see you tonight, then. Just come by whenever you like.”

  Duke nodded, and then slipped out of the car. Scott watched through the window, unable to look away from the curious slump of his shoulders. He hadn’t needed to remind Duke of everything that was at stake for him—those facts were clearly already weighing on him. But Scott couldn’t worry about Detective Duke. Now Hector needed his full attention. And every ounce of intelligence, every bit of dedication, that Scott possessed.