Moral Defense (Samantha Brinkman Book 2)

by Marcia Clark

  “I heard Abel was nice, but I didn’t know him or Cassie. I can’t believe she killed her own family. I mean, even if he did molest her, so what? Who’d do a thing like that?” I was about to tell her we clearly knew who’d do a thing like that when she leaned in and whispered, “Is it true what they’re saying about Tiegan and Cassie? Did they really hook up?”

  Next.

  A white boy in dreads and a Bob Marley sweatshirt called Abel a “wannabe” (oh, the irony) who was always “sucking up to the jocks.” But Cassie “seemed kinda cool.” No clue about any rumors at all. But “If that nutsack really did mess with her, he totally had it coming.”

  I hoped I’d get more like him on my jury, but . . .

  Next.

  A class nerd—black-framed glasses, pencil neck and all—didn’t know Abel, hadn’t heard anything about Cassie, but thought her story was “inherently incredible” because Abel “could get girls.” He thought Tiegan was hot, and he, too, wanted to know whether she and Cassie “hooked up.” He managed to punch down two muffins.

  Next.

  A girl who looked like a Janis Joplin wannabe, with long, wild frizzy hair and dangling feather earrings, had always felt sorry for Cassie because “Abel could be, like, a real dick, you know?” But she didn’t know Cassie that well, and she’d never heard any stories about her. If Abel was molesting her, that was a real drag, but she, herself, “couldn’t imagine ever stabbing anyone.”

  And on and on. Until we hit our tenth, a cute little brunette cheerleader who showed up in uniform—a very short, pleated blue and gold skirt and matching crewneck sweater, a high ponytail, and pink lip gloss.

  Hillary Placker licked her lips and glanced around the coffee shop. She spoke in a voice so soft I had to lean in to hear her. “I feel really bad about this. I know I should’ve said something at the time, but I didn’t want to talk bad about Cassie. And really, I didn’t even know if it was true. You know how people are.”

  Finally. I was not in a patient mood—not that I ever am—but I was in a “talk fast or I’ll shoot you in the head” mood right now. I reined myself in and forced a calm voice. “Everything you say to me will be confidential. I promise you.” Unless you give me something I can use. In which case I’ll tie you to my bumper and drag you all the way to the courthouse.

  But the unsuspecting Hillary nodded and thanked me. “After Cassie and Waylon broke up, I heard some guys talking about how she’d do . . . anything.”

  This was it. What I’d been hoping for. “What guys? And when?”

  She played with the cuff of her sweater as she thought for a moment. “The first time was a few months ago. I heard a couple of guys on the junior varsity basketball team talking about her. It was totally by accident. I was in the locker room, and they were just outside in the hallway. After that, I heard some of the other guys on the team talking about it.”

  “Definitely during this school year, then?”

  “Oh, for sure. Yeah.”

  “Did they give any specifics? Say what Cassie was doing?”

  Hillary blushed. “The junior varsity guys talked about how they were at a party and she . . . uh”—she glanced at Alex, then looked down—“she gave one of them a BJ in the bedroom.”

  She was so uncomfortable, I had to help her out. “Was that the gist of the rumors you heard after that? That she’d do those kinds of favors for guys at parties?”

  Hillary nodded. “Pretty much. The guys laughed about it, but I thought it was kind of sad that she felt like she had to do that stuff.”

  “Did you know these guys?” Hillary shook her head. “Did you happen to get a look at any of them?” And I thought, Please, oh please, don’t just tell me they’re tall.

  Hillary gave a reluctant nod. “I peeked out the door when they passed by the locker room. The one closest to me had thin, scraggly brown hair and a tattoo of a pyramid on the back of his shoulder.” Her brow wrinkled as she stared off for a moment. “I think it was his left shoulder.”

  Alex had his pen poised over his notepad—just our usual show for the witness. The recorder hidden in his jacket pocket was catching every word. “How long was his hair?”

  She gestured to the bottom of her neck. “About here.”

  Alex made a note. “Can you remember his build? Was he super skinny? Medium?”

  “I’m not good at height. Everyone’s taller than me.” She was five foot two if she stretched real hard. Probably one of the squad’s fliers. “But I remember he had really skinny legs.”

  “What about the others?” I asked. “You said there were two?”

  Hillary nodded. “I think one had blondish-reddish hair, cut in a fade. He was a little bit shorter, but I don’t remember anything else about him. And I couldn’t really see the other one.”

  Alex asked, “The one with the fade, how long was it on top?”

  Hillary held her hand an inch or two above her head. “About like this.”

  Alex opened his iPad. “I’m going to show you some pictures, okay?” He pulled up the school photos for the junior varsity basketball team and scrolled to the photos that looked most like the boys she’d just described.

  Hillary looked frightened. “You’re not going to tell them that I—”

  I shook my head. “Absolutely not.”

  Alex showed her the photographs. She studied them for just a few moments, then picked them out. She pointed to a boy with a long nose and shoulder-length hair. “I think that’s the one who was bragging.” Then she pointed to a boy with a blondish-reddish fade. “And that’s the one who was laughing.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, Hillary. You’ve been a big help. By the way, how did you know they were junior varsity?”

  “Because the day I heard them talking was a Thursday, and that’s when they have practice.” A flash of anger crossed her face. “I know it was Thursday because I was having a fight with my ex-boyfriend.”

  I gave her a sisterly nod as I thought, Thursday—as in today. Time to wrap this up. “Thank you, Hillary. This was very helpful.”

  Hillary’s chin trembled. “I feel so bad. I knew I should’ve said something.”

  “Hillary, it’s not your fault. If you’d reported it, the boys would’ve just lied and denied. You’re doing the right thing now. That’s what counts. Okay?”

  She tried for a smile and half succeeded. “Thanks, Ms. Brinkman.”

  “Sam. Call me Sam.” Or any other damn thing you want. And I’ll call you Star Witness Number One. But no need to bring that up right now. “Do you think we can still catch them at the school?”

  “They practice till at least five.”

  I looked at my phone. It was only four thirty. We were in luck.

  FIFTY-SIX

  It took us just ten minutes to walk to the school, so we killed some time strolling around the campus, revisiting shitty memories. Shitty for Alex, because he went to “a ghetto school where gay was not okay.” Shitty for me, because I’d been a mess. The bleachers off in the distance reminded me of the bleachers I’d hidden under back in the day, where I’d snort coke, smoke cigarettes, or polish off half a pint of Jack Daniel’s. Good times.

  We headed for the gym at five and waited in the hallway outside the basketball courts. At a quarter after, the first players started to leave. We’d decided to split up. I’d take the first one we saw; Alex would take the second. We’d have to catch the third guy, who hadn’t said anything—and might not even be involved—another time.

  We were in luck. Jason Lichter, the one with the long brown hair, came floating out with a towel over his shoulder, and right next to him was our number-two target, the blond guy with the fade, AKA Owen DeMayne. They both had that ripe smell of sweat and dirty gym clothes long overdue for a washing.

  Jason was at least six foot one, with a long nose and thin lips, but the high cheekbones and strong jaw saved him from the Ichabod Crane look. His hair and tank shirt were soaked, and his face was flushed.

  I took the lea
d. “Hey, Jason.”

  He stopped and looked me up and down, a little bit interested, a little bit suspicious. “Who’re you?”

  His buddy Owen had stopped, too. Alex greeted him. “Hey, Owen.”

  I introduced myself as just Samantha—no lawyer stuff yet. Alex did the same.

  I looked up at Jason. “Can you give me a sec? I’ve got something I think you’ll want to hear.” Hoping that was intriguing enough, I stepped across the hall to a small round table in an alcove and gestured for him to follow. Behind me, I heard Alex ask Owen to join him on a bench farther down the hall.

  When I reached the table, I turned and gave Jason a friendly smile. He hesitated for a moment, then slowly ambled over. I could almost see him thinking, What the hell, why not? No girl would ever stroll over to a stranger with that kind of nonchalance. Not even if the stranger was a woman.

  I kept the smile going. “I hear you and Abel Sonnenberg were friends.”

  His nostrils flared as if he’d smelled a fart. “Not really. I mean, I knew him, but we didn’t hang out or anything.”

  I threw my sucker punch. “But you knew him well enough to get a beej from his sister.”

  He pulled back, his eyes wide. “Whoa, what now?”

  I dropped the smile. “Cut the crap, Jason. I’ve got witnesses.”

  He ran a tongue over his lips and darted a quick look over my shoulder as he spoke. “I didn’t do anything wrong. She was into it.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “That’s not what I heard.”

  Jason sat up, his expression alarmed. “What?” He leaned forward and spoke in a harsh whisper. “Well, whoever said that’s a friggin’ liar! I’d never force a girl to . . . to do anything! Who said that? Is she saying that?”

  I watched him carefully. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

  He frowned at me, but the frown was laced with fear. “Who are you?”

  “I’m her lawyer.” I handed him my card.

  He glanced at the card, then looked back at me. “What’s she saying? That I forced her and that’s why she killed everyone? That’s crazy! Besides, I wasn’t the only one!”

  “If she gave consent, then you need to tell me about that. I just want to hear your side of the story.” Actually, it didn’t matter if she gave consent. It was still a criminal offense, even though both of them were minors. But his legal exposure wasn’t my problem.

  His Adam’s apple bounced as he swallowed hard. “I saw Abel at this party a couple of months ago. He was all bragging about how he could get his sister to do whatever he wanted. Said he made her give handies to some guys on the football team and asked if I wanted one.” Jason made a face. “Like we were friends or something.” He worked his jaw. “I was pretty drunk; I thought it was a joke, you know? So I told him I wanted a BJ.” Jason slouched down in the chair and spread his legs.

  His BO, his manspread, what girl wouldn’t drop to her knees? “What did Abel say?”

  Jason had a sullen look, as though it were all Abel’s fault that I was bracing him up now. “That she’d be waiting for me in the back bedroom if I wanted to go for it.” He stopped and glared at the floor as he clenched his jaw.

  Come on, dickweed, speak. “And?”

  He blew out a breath and spoke fast. “And a few minutes later, he gave me the sign, and I went to the bedroom, and she did it.” Jason’s face turned crimson. “I didn’t even do anything. She just . . . took over. She did it all. I didn’t even hardly touch her!”

  “Did she say anything to you?”

  Jason shook his head. “I don’t think so. Like I said, I was pretty drunk. But she wasn’t, like, crying or anything.” He leaned in, his expression pained. “Look, I know I shouldn’t have gone along with it. I probably wouldn’t have if I weren’t so buzzed. But you’ve got to believe me, if she’d been acting upset or scared or . . . or anything, I wouldn’t have done it.” He slouched in his chair, his eyes on the floor.

  I wasn’t sure what to believe. Was he the laughing asshole who’d bragged to his buddy? Or the relatively decent guy in front of me who felt bad about his part in that ugly scene? I supposed he could be both. He was a teen boy. “Did Abel tell you why Cassie would do whatever he wanted?”

  Jason knitted his brow as he shook his head. “No, but now, from what I heard about Ms. Donner and all, I’m guessing she and Cassie were . . . together, and he found out about them?”

  I nodded. “We think he might’ve been blackmailing her.”

  His expression was a mixture of pain and disgust. “Seriously?” He shook his head. “What a dick.”

  I guessed I didn’t need to point out that he’d gone along for the ride with “that dick.” “You said there were others. We already know about Owen. Who else?”

  Jason sat up and gave me a pleading look. “Does it really matter? You know about Owen and me. Isn’t that enough?”

  I could well understand that he didn’t want to rat out his buddies. But that moral dilemma was none of my concern. I spoke with sarcasm. “What do you think, Jason? Two guys versus twelve—or maybe twenty. You think it was all the same to Cassie?”

  He hung his head and sighed. “I think maybe Ronnie and Beck did something with her. That’s all I know.”

  I thought I recognized the names. “They on the team, too?”

  He nodded, looking like he was about to cry. “I’m not gonna have to testify, am I?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know.” I told him we were done. For now.

  Jason hooked the towel around his neck and paused as he stared at the gym door. “Will you do me a favor?”

  “Depends.”

  He looked at me, his eyes sad. “Tell Cassie I’m sorry. Okay?”

  Alex and I swapped stories on our way back to the office. Owen’s story was similar to Jason’s.

  Alex sighed. “Owen was a douche at first. Made it sound like he was this irresistible stud and Cassie had gotten lucky. When I told him that this ‘lucky’ girl was being blackmailed into servicing him, he got upset. Said he had no idea. He seemed pretty embarrassed about the whole thing, for what it’s worth. But he said after that, Abel tried to get invited to one of their parties and offered to bring Cassie with him. He told Abel to fuck off.”

  “Abel came back to him for seconds, and Owen turned him down?”

  “That’s what he said. I guess he could be making that up.” Alex shook his head. “But it didn’t feel that way. Owen said he had a sister. When he’d sobered up, he got to thinking that the whole situation was sleazy and wrong, and that he’d never have done a thing like that to his sister.”

  I was glad to hear it. “But no one ever turned Abel in.”

  Alex glanced at me with a rueful expression. “The law of the pack. No one wants to be the snitch. And empathy is so uncool.” Alex pulled off the freeway and stopped at the light. “But don’t forget, Cassie never said anything, either.”

  I definitely hadn’t forgotten about that. “Did Owen give you any more names?”

  Alex nodded. “Two on the basketball team and one on the football team.”

  “If we can’t catch up with them tonight or early tomorrow morning, we run with what we’ve got.”

  Alex pulled into the garage under our building. “You don’t have to come. I can handle those interviews. I’ll get to the school at zero hour and snag whoever I can find.”

  He probably could handle it alone. All he had to do was tell them we already knew about Jason and Owen. They’d cave in like a cardboard box in the rain.

  As Alex drove, I mentally revisited my conversation with Cassie. After she’d told me how Abel had blackmailed her into servicing all those boys, I’d asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  The skin on the knuckles of the hand that gripped the phone had stretched tight. She’d been shaking with rage. “Because it’s humiliating, that’s why! Isn’t it bad enough that I was the family fuck doll—I also have to let the world know that I got pimped out by my brother?”
>
  I’d backed off. That wasn’t the most important question. My next one was. “Did you tell Tiegan what Abel was doing to you?”

  Cassie gave a long sigh. “Yes, the day of the—the day they got killed. That’s when I told her about everything. My father, Abel . . .”

  I told Alex about that conversation now. He shook his head. “That girl’s had one heck of a life.”

  “‘Heck’?”

  “I’m trying out the understated approach.”

  I saw a Kentucky Fried Chicken up ahead. Just the sight of it made my mouth water. “Want to pick up some morsels of greasy delight?”

  “Absolutely.”

  When we got back to the office, we spread out our feast and brought Michelle up to speed while we ate.

  “Abel sounds like a friggin’ sadist.” Michelle had finished her extra-crispy chicken thigh and was wiping her face and hands with a napkin.

  Alex balled up his paper wrapper and napkin and tossed them into the trash can. “I’m not a big fan of jock-asses, but I got the impression that these guys really didn’t know what was going on.”

  I’d been chewing on my drinking straw, pondering the question I’d had on the ride back. I posed it to the troops now. “The problem is, this blackmail business is a double-edged sword. Now that we know what Abel put Cassie through, I’d say she had one hell of a motive to kill Abel, too.”

  “But Tiegan’s still got more,” Alex said. “At the end of the day, Cassie’s just a victim. If she rats Abel out, even if she tells everyone about her and Tiegan, nothing happens to her. But Tiegan’s totally screwed.”

  I couldn’t argue with the logic. “I just wonder why Cassie never told me about it.”

  Michelle tossed her soft drink cup into the trash can. “Did she tell anyone? Ever?”

  I shook my head. I’d called Tawny and Rain from the car when we were on our way to Starbucks. They admitted they’d heard a few rumors about her, but when they asked her point-blank, Cassie had said it was a lie, probably spread by her asshole brother. “Not as far as I know. Other than Tiegan.”

  Michelle shrugged. “Then it’s maybe not so strange that she didn’t tell you. Obviously, it’s humiliating. And like you said, it does give Cassie a motive. She was probably afraid it’d make her look guilty.”