Moral Defense (Samantha Brinkman Book 2)

by Marcia Clark

  I bristled. How did his bitchy ’tude become my fault? “You going to give him the same speech? ’Cause last I checked, he was the one who got all up in my shit first.”

  Emmons gave a ragged sigh that sounded like he wanted to pull out his few remaining hairs. “All I’m asking—”

  I was fighting a losing battle. He just wanted peace, and he was pushing on the side most likely to make it. “Fine. I’ll do what I can.”

  I ended the call and arranged with Barbara to pick Cassie up at ten a.m. Then I went out to the reception area and filled Alex and Michelle in on Paula and the fact that Danny was out of the picture. After chatting for a few more minutes, we all went back to work.

  An hour later, Alex came to my office. “I just got off the phone with Dale. He wants to come by in fifteen. Will you be here?”

  I nodded. “Did he say what he wanted?”

  “He’s got something on Kevin Hausch.”

  That reminded me, Alex had been trying to find Julio’s sister. “Did you get anything on the sister?”

  “I confirmed that she made it to Nogales. But after that, nothing.”

  Damn. If Alex couldn’t find her, she was either dead or abducted by aliens.

  Dale showed up ten minutes later. We all convened in my office. He flopped down on the couch, and Alex turned a chair around.

  I leaned against my desk. Dale was not happy. “What’s wrong?”

  Dale’s expression was dark. “Hausch worked at San Luis PD in Arizona ten years back.”

  Why was that bad news? “So?”

  “My source says he left on bad terms. The sergeant there thought he let some gangbangers slide on a crack case. Nothing official, so LAPD didn’t know about it. And San Luis is just three hundred miles away from Nogales, where Julio’s sister disappeared. Not next door, but close enough to the action to make me wonder. My buddies in the gang unit tell me the MS-13 is heavy into human trafficking. Deportees have been getting smuggled off the buses and sold into slave trade—sex and other.”

  The MS-13 was arguably the deadliest and largest gang operating in the Americas. If Hausch was in bed with them . . . “Are they saying cops are taking bribes to look the other way?”

  “They think it’s likely, although they don’t know of anyone specific. But Hausch has no prior disciplinary record here in LA. And it’s possible that sergeant in San Luis just had a hard-on for him. So this could turn out to be a witch hunt. But it should be checked out. The problem is, I can’t afford to let my fingerprints show up on any of it.”

  Because if they did, the department would want to know why, and that would screw Hausch for potentially no reason. Not to mention make Dale look like a backstabbing rat. Just what he needed. But sinking more time into this freebie definitely wasn’t something I needed. “I really want to help, but this hydra just sprung about fourteen more heads, and I’m already stretched pretty thin.”

  Dale sat forward and clasped his hands together. “I know, and I never intended to do that to you. So I’ve got a proposal. The person I need right now is Alex. How about I pay his salary this month?”

  I certainly didn’t mind. And—just as a bonus—I could bump up Alex’s salary. Unfortunately, Alex beat me to the punch—with the truth.

  “I’m in,” Alex said. “I get four thousand a month.”

  Dale nodded. “Sold. I need you to see what you can dig up on this smuggling business in the Arizona border towns. Check out cases with immigrant crime victims, and see if you can find any news stories on dirty cops in border town PDs. Especially cops who’ve been busted for bribes. I’ll keep pushing on my end, but I’ve got to be discreet, and that’ll slow things down.”

  I studied him. I wouldn’t have thought that he’d be willing to put himself in this position. “If Hausch is dirty and anyone finds out that you’ve been snooping around, you’re not going to get much love from the department.”

  Dale set his mouth in a grim line. “But I’ll get lots of love from Hausch if it doesn’t pan out.”

  “True.” If we shredded any connection between Hausch and Julio Valenzuela, the case against Hausch would wash out.

  Dale had a determined look. “Either way, I’ve got to know. If he is dirty, he’s got to go down for it.”

  I respected that. “Okay. We’ll see what Alex comes up with.” I told him about taking Cassie to visit Paula.

  “Yeah, Rusty told me she’s awake. He’s not holding out much hope, though. She’s in really bad shape.”

  “I’ll let you know how it goes,” I said.

  They headed for Alex’s office to knock around some investigative ideas, and I went back to work.

  The next morning, I filled Beulah’s tank before heading out to Glendale to avoid any nasty surprises and made it to Barbara’s house by nine thirty. Cassie looked a lot better than when I’d last seen her, but as she pulled on her seat belt, I saw that she was so nervous she was practically vibrating. “Are you okay?”

  Cassie was staring through the windshield. She swallowed. When she spoke, her mouth was so dry it made a crackling sound. “What if she doesn’t recognize me? What if she doesn’t . . . make it? The doctors said that once they pull her out of the coma, she might . . .”

  Reasonable fears all. “It’s natural to be scared. But it looks like she might be okay. The doctors say she’s responding, that she understands what’s being said to her. She could make a full recovery. So let’s try to be positive, okay?”

  Cassie didn’t answer. And she didn’t speak all the way to the hospital. I’d wanted to ask her about this Earl Lee Riser person, but now definitely didn’t seem like the time.

  Cassie trailed behind me as we walked into the room. Paula was in the ICU, and she was hooked up to so many monitors it looked like they could’ve launched her to Mars. Her head was bandaged and her face was swollen, but the rest of her looked pretty normal. Templeton and Emmons sat in chairs in opposite corners of the room. That was a perfect analogy if ever I saw one. They looked like they’d been there awhile. Newspapers and empty cardboard coffee cups were on the floor at their feet.

  When we walked in, they sat up. Cassie took three tentative steps, then stopped a few feet from Paula’s bed and stared at her mother. Emmons spoke to Cassie. “You can talk to her. The doctors said it’d be good for her to hear a familiar voice.”

  Cassie didn’t acknowledge him. She continued to stare down at Paula. After a long moment, in a soft, trembling voice, she said, “Mom? It’s Cassie. Can you hear me?”

  Paula’s eyelids fluttered. She mumbled something in a hoarse voice. Emmons went to the other side of her bed and leaned down to listen, then shook his head. He straightened up and spoke softly to Cassie. “Can you say something else?”

  Cassie took a deep breath, her face pale. But this time her voice was stronger. “Hey, Mom. It’s me. Cassie. Can you hear me?”

  Paula’s eyes fluttered again, then slowly opened to half-mast. She focused on Cassie for a long moment. And then her eyes grew round. Her mouth opened wide, but all that came out was a harsh, rasping grunt. As she continued to stare at Cassie, her whole body began to shake.

  Then all the monitors started to shriek at once.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The entire room froze. As the monitors continued to scream, Cassie began to back away. Emmons leaned over, about to ask Paula a question, but doctors and nurses came pounding in. They pushed us out of the room, and we all wound up in the hallway. Cassie’s face had drained of color. She looked like she was about to faint, and her voice came out high and shrill. “What’s happening? Why did she act like that?”

  We all studied Cassie. Emmons spoke first. “It’s possible she has a few wires crossed, Cassie. Sometimes trauma can do that.”

  But no question about it, Paula’s reaction was strange. It was hard to interpret. She’d looked . . . scared. Of Cassie? Or was she just shocked to see that Cassie was alive? I’d asked myself before, but I hadn’t really drilled down on it. Could Cassie
have done it? Attack a sleeping Abel—I guess so. Her father . . . that was a bit of a stretch. He outweighed Cassie by at least eighty, ninety pounds. But with the element of surprise, I supposed it might be possible . . . likewise for her mother. That only begged the question, why? What was her motive? I could see that the cops were thinking along the same lines.

  Templeton fixed Cassie with a hard, suspicious gaze. “Why would she react that way to you, Cassie? Can you explain that?”

  My lawyer reflex kicked in. “Don’t answer him, Cassie.” I turned to Templeton. “My client isn’t talking. Knock it off with the questions.”

  Cassie burst out, “I don’t know why she acted like that! I didn’t do anything!” She grabbed my arm. “Sam, you’ve got to believe me!” She started to cry.

  I put an arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay, Cassie. Detective Emmons is right. Things must’ve gotten jumbled around in her head. It was a huge trauma.”

  But even though Emmons might have a good point, even though the reaction of a woman who’d only just gotten out of a coma was a shaky basis for an arrest, it was definitely something that had to be checked out. And I could see the wheels turning in Templeton’s head, planning just how he’d do that.

  Cassie continued to sob on my shoulder. I caught Templeton’s eye. “Can I take her home?”

  “You sure the Reebers will want her?” He looked skeptical.

  “Talk about a rush to judgment. So she looked upset, big whoop. The woman just got out of a coma. Like Emmons said, her wires are crossed, that’s all. I’m sure the Reebers will be fine with keeping her.”

  Rusty continued to study Cassie. He eventually nodded, though he didn’t look convinced. “But I’m sending someone with you. We’ll let her stay there while we check this out, but she’s not going anywhere.”

  She was basically under house arrest. Cassie moved like a wooden puppet with a few of its strings cut, her head hanging down, her gait stumbling and unsteady. When we got back into the car, she bent forward and put her head down in her lap. I noticed a squad car fall in behind me as I pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

  Cassie sobbed all the way back and didn’t speak until I pulled into the Reebers’ driveway. She sat up, her face red and wet with tears. “Why do they think I did it? Mom’s just . . . messed up, that’s all!”

  I searched her face. That’s definitely what I wanted to believe. “I agree, but we’ll just have to let the cops do their job.” I couldn’t believe those words had just come out of my mouth. Oh, if only they would. “But for now, you’ll have to stay home—”

  “That’s not my home! I don’t have a home!”

  Unfortunately, she was right about that. I corrected myself. “You’ll have to stay in the house until the cops finish checking things out.”

  Cassie hit her thigh with a fisted hand. “Why can’t they find that guy I saw? It’s not fair! I didn’t do anything!” She put her hands over her face and began to sob.

  I could see I wasn’t going to be able to calm her down. Not that I blamed her. If she really hadn’t done it, to not only lose her family but also be wrongly accused of killing them would shatter anyone’s sanity.

  But what if she had done it? She’d still be plenty bent at getting caught. Right now, all I had was a lot of questions, but I wouldn’t get the answers today. I got out and went to the passenger side of the car.

  A tall, muscular female patrol officer trotted over and gestured for me to stand back. She put a restraining hand on Cassie’s shoulder and unfastened her seat belt, then wrapped a hand around her arm and pulled her out of the car. Cassie looked like a toddler next to the officer. Her body limp, she stumbled along as the officer walked her to the door.

  When Barbara saw the patrol officer holding on to Cassie, she stepped back and put a hand to her face. “What on earth?”

  I directed the officer to the living room, and she deposited Cassie on the couch. But she remained standing, her eyes trained on Cassie. I told Barbara what’d happened. “If you don’t want her to stay here, they’ll have to take her to a juvenile facility.” Not juvenile hall—she wasn’t under arrest. But they’d have to find a bed for her in one of the county facilities for minors, which wouldn’t be pretty.

  Barbara’s face was pale as she took it all in. But her tone was firm. “I’m sure Paula was just confused. Her reaction could mean anything. I think the police are grasping at straws. I don’t believe for one second Cassie would do such a terrible thing. That’s not the girl I’ve come to know.”

  I nodded and told her I agreed, that I was sure they’d clear her. But really, what did any of us know about Cassie? We’d only met her a short time ago, and I’d long since learned that you can never rule out anyone just because you think you know the person. I wondered whether Barbara realized that if Cassie did commit these murders, she was one dangerous criminal. “If you want Cassie to stay, she can’t leave the house. And that patrol officer will be here for the duration, until the cops figure it out.”

  Barbara’s eyes drifted toward the couch and to Cassie, who sagged against it. I didn’t envy her this decision. But she set her jaw. “No. I’m not going to let them put her in some county . . . orphanage. She can stay here. I know she didn’t kill anyone.”

  It was a brave thing to do, I thought. And a risky thing to do. “I’ll tell the officer. But if it gets too much, if you change your mind for any reason—”

  Barbara nodded. “Thank you.” But now, her decision made, she was determined. “We’ll be fine.”

  I told the officer that Cassie would be staying, then I told Cassie I had to leave. She looked up at me with a vacant stare and slowly nodded. “Are they going to arrest me?”

  What could I say? I had no idea what the cops would uncover. Theoretically, there wouldn’t be any big surprises; the crime scene should’ve been thoroughly raked for evidence by now. But I’d seen that theory disproven too many times. “Let’s hope not. I’ll stay on top of this and let you know what I find out.”

  Cassie dropped her head and began to sob again. Barbara sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. Cassie laid her head on Barbara’s shoulder and wailed. “Please don’t let them take me away!”

  Barbara looked like she wanted to cry. But the officer folded her arms and watched it all dispassionately. I hoped for everyone’s sake that the cops would figure this out soon. I didn’t think either the Reebers or Cassie would be able to deal with the situation for long.

  When I got back to my car, I looked at my watch. Beulah’s clock had decided time was irrelevant about a year ago. It was only eleven thirty. It felt like the end of the day. But I was glad it was still early. I needed to talk to Michy and Alex about all this.

  “What?” Michelle sat back in her chair as though I’d shoved her. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  Alex tilted his head as though he didn’t think he’d heard right. “Was that the first time Paula’s responded to anyone?”

  That’s what worried me. “No. The doctors told Emmons she’d been somewhat responsive with them. She seemed to know where she was, even said ‘Stephen.’”

  Michelle absorbed the import of that. “So she’s not totally out of it.”

  Not as out of it as I’d have liked. “No.” I’d been pacing back and forth in front of Michelle’s desk, thinking about what the cops would do now. “I’ll bet they’ve already gone back to the crime scene.” I stopped and tried to imagine what kind of evidence they could possibly find. I just didn’t know. I was nervous about Cassie’s situation, but there was nothing I could do. “I’m gonna try to bury myself in work for a while.”

  I could tell Alex didn’t know which side of the fence to fall on. He shook his head and sighed. “Yeah, may as well. I’ve been having a hell of a time trying to figure out how to grab the cell tower records.” He saw my worried look. “It’ll be okay. I’ve got a few more tricks left.”

  I went back into my office and passed the rest of the day w
orking on motions. I have this insane ability to tune out the whole world in times of need, and this was one of them. By the time Alex came to my door, it was almost six thirty p.m.

  He was rubbing the back of his neck. “I just remembered. We were supposed to go see Julio again today. Do you still want to?”

  I’d forgotten about that, too. We’d wanted to see whether we could get a little more information about his sister’s last calls and her shoplifting case. I was about to say no, that I had more work to do here, but I’d been holed up in my office with my head down for hours. I needed to get out. “Sure, may as well.”

  The only thing wrong with going to see Julio now was that he lived in a rough part of Koreatown, and it’d be almost dark by the time we got there. Alex could probably deal with whatever we ran into, but it wouldn’t hurt to give him some backup. I got my gun, stuffed it into my purse, and stopped at Michelle’s desk. “Feel free to pack it in anytime. I’ll call you from the car if we get anything delicious.”

  “You’ll call me from the car regardless. If I don’t hear from you by seven thirty, I’m calling the cops.”

  “Are ya kidding? They’ll hang up and cheer. So please don’t. Last thing I want to do is give them a reason to be happy.”

  Michelle nodded. “Fair enough.” She fixed me with a hard look. “But call anyway.”

  I gave her a mock salute, and Alex and I headed out.

  We made it to Julio’s place a little after seven thirty. It was a cool night, but there was some cloud cover that kept it from getting really chilly. A few stars peeked out between the clouds, and the moon that hung low in the sky gave off a yellow glow. A car on springs bounced down the street blasting a song with bass so heavy I could feel it in my chest.

  Julio’s apartment was one in a string of twelve that looked like they’d been converted from one of those fleabag motels. And it’d gone straight downhill from there—no easy feat. Cardboard blocked the front windows in some units; dirty blankets or sheets hung in others. One was covered with tinfoil. That occupant had at least done some thinking. The paint had long since peeled off most of the doors, and what little was left was too faded to leave a clue as to what color they’d ever been. Graffiti covered the cracked stucco walls, and the small parking lot was littered with empty fast-food wrappers, cardboard cups, and beer and soft-drink cans. A shopping cart with four or five white bundles stood at the far end. The stench of cheap cooking, old grease, and urine-soaked concrete permeated the air. When we got closer to the shopping cart, I saw that the bundles were used Pampers. Lovely.