Hand of Justice (Mara Brent Legal Thriller Series Book 3)

by Robin James

  “Is that the only time you ever took Kevin to see Mickey for drugs?” I asked.

  “There was one other time after that. Kevin called and said Mickey wouldn’t answer his phone. He got a new one. He used to use burners. Kevin wanted to know if I had the new number. I did. So, same thing. We met him over at the car wash.”

  “Do you know what type of drugs Kevin bought from Mickey?” I asked.

  “Couple of speedballs. Some oxy.”

  “And when was that, if you recall?” I asked.

  “That was about two weeks after the first time. So mid-January this year.”

  “Were there any other times you went with Kevin Sutter to buy drugs from Mickey Harvey?” I asked.

  “Just the two,” he said. “After that, I figured Kevin and Mickey could work their own selves out. I was trying to get clean. The week after Christmas, my girlfriend told me she was pregnant. We were going to get married. I promised her I’d cut that stuff out. We couldn’t afford for me to lose my job at Vining.”

  “Did you stop?” I asked.

  “For a while,” he said. “By the time it hit the news what happened to Kevin and all the rest of them, I hadn’t seen either of them since late January. So five months. But then Cami, my girlfriend. She lost the baby. She took it hard. We broke up. So I kinda lost my way again over the summer. I’m thirty days sober though.”

  “Good,” I said. “Thank you, Scotty. I have nothing further.”

  Elise charged to the lectern.

  “Mr. Jarvis,” she said. “You were arrested on June 8th of this year, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  “For what charge?”

  “Possession with intent to sell,” he said. “I had some Special K on me. Um, ketamine.”

  “And what kind of jail time were you facing if you were convicted on that charge?”

  Scotty wiped his hands on the front of his shirt. “I was looking at some years.”

  “Ten years in jail,” she said. “It was ten years. But you didn’t go to jail. Those charges were dropped, weren’t they?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Why was that?”

  “I made a deal,” he said. “My lawyer talked to the prosecutor and got me a deal.”

  “Explain your deal,” Elise said, her voice dripping with sarcasm on the last word.

  “If I gave them the name of my supplier, I could get my charges dropped,” he said.

  “Did you?” she asked.

  “No. I told them about Kevin and Mickey though,” he answered.

  “Kevin and Mickey. So you knew Mickey Harvey had been arrested for the killings out at the Sutter farm, isn’t that right?”

  “Of course I knew. Everybody knew.”

  “And you just happened to have this juicy information about Kevin and Mickey for them,” she said.

  “Is that a question? I didn’t just happen to have it. It is what it was. It’s what happened.”

  “But Mickey had been arrested some weeks before you were, isn’t that true?”

  “I don’t have a clue when he was arrested. I was popped in June.”

  “But it was all over the news, wasn’t it?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he said. “Seven people got shot out there. That doesn’t happen every day.”

  “No,” she said. “Of course it doesn’t.”

  “There was a sizeable reward for information pertaining to the killings, wasn’t there?”

  “I think so,” he said.

  “You’re out of work now, aren’t you, Mr. Jarvis? In fact, you were fired from your job at Vining in July of this year, isn’t that true?”

  “They let me go, yes.”

  “You were fired for stealing cash out of the drawer, isn’t that right? And when you were first confronted, what did you tell them?”

  “I said I didn’t do it,” he said.

  “You lied. But you were caught because they had you on the surveillance cameras, isn’t that right?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’m not proud of it. And I’m trying to turn my life around.”

  “There was a ten-thousand-dollar reward offered by crime stoppers relating to the Sutter murders. And yet you didn’t see fit to come forward with what you claim you knew about Kevin and Mickey, isn’t that right?”

  “I told them what I knew,” he said.

  “You told them your story only after you were in hot water,” she said. “You did it to save your own skin, isn’t that right?”

  “I made a deal to keep myself from going to jail and give me a chance for a fresh start,” he said.

  “Wouldn’t a ten-thousand-dollar reward have given you a fresh start?” she asked.

  “I could use money like that, sure,” he answered.

  “And yet, you didn’t come forward then. You only came forward after the prosecutor in this case offered you a deal.” Elise sighed. “Thank you, I have nothing further.”

  “Ms. Brent?” the judge said. I shot Elise a hard look as she passed me on the way back to her table. She’d just implied my office had done something shady. I found it beneath her. I chose to take the high road for now.

  “Scotty,” I asked. “Why didn’t you come forward sooner with what you knew about Kevin Sutter and Mickey Harvey?”

  “Because I was afraid,” he said. “And because in the middle of the summer and around the time Kevin got killed, I was still using pretty heavy. I was just trying to survive. And I was afraid what happened out there had to do with Mickey’s dealing. I figured he pissed off somebody bigger than him. I was afraid I’d be next.”

  “What changed your mind?” I asked.

  “Mickey can’t hurt me from jail,” he said. “And it weighed on me. Don’t think it didn’t. Those were nice folks out there. Not with Kevin. He had his issues. But the Sutters were good people. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t say. And yeah, I didn’t want to go to jail. So I did what my lawyer recommended. And I’m telling the truth. Everything I’ve said here today is the truth.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I have nothing further.”

  Scotty stepped down. Judge Denholm dismissed the jury so we could spend the afternoon on a few remaining evidentiary motions.

  I felt spent. Drained. I could not read the jury during Scotty’s testimony. Elise got in some hits. I had one more big decision to make.

  28

  I got home after dinner, breaking a deal I made with Will. Kat waited for me in the kitchen. Will had already gone upstairs to take his bath.

  “How angry was he?” I asked.

  “He’s okay,” Kat said. “He knows how important this trial is. He wants Mickey Harvey to go to jail forever.”

  My heart twisted. “He shouldn’t have to even think about it. I thought he was getting better.”

  “So did I,” Kat said. By her expression, I knew she was holding something back.

  “Out with it,” I said.

  Kat picked up Will’s tablet from the kitchen table. She brought it to me and opened the home screen.

  “He left this behind when he went to answer a call from Jason,” she said. Kat tapped the screen and pulled up Will’s browser. He had several tabs open, all news stories about the Sutter murder trial.

  “And this,” she said. She opened his podcast app. “He’s been listening to the one they’re doing on the trial. Small-Town Killers. I found a notebook in his room.”

  “He’s taking notes,” I said. “I don’t know how I missed this all.”

  “Mara,” she said. “You should talk to my brother. Jason was really worried about him this summer. When he came back, he really seemed to have put all this out of his mind.”

  “Kat,” I said, the first seeds of panic rising in me. “I have to do my job. I have to find a way to …”

  “No,” Kat said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m not saying I think Will should go back to D.C. It’s just, he listens to Jason. And this is clearly something that Will�
��s worried about. They should be talking about it too.”

  “I know,” I said. I worried Jason might use it against me. Would he try to say Will’s best interests might be served living in D.C.?

  “Mom!” Will said. He came down the stairs, hair still wet, wearing his blue flannel PJs and the robe Kat got him last week.

  “Hey, bud,” I said. “I’m sorry I missed dinner. It won’t happen again. This thing will be over in a week with any luck.”

  “Have you rested yet?” Will asked, sliding onto a kitchen stool.

  “Not yet,” I said. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Do you think the defense will call Michael Harvey to the stand?”

  I exchanged a look with Kat. Though it seemed a harmless question on the outside, I knew Will could easily spiral into an obsession that could disrupt his routine.

  “I don’t know,” I answered.

  “You wouldn’t,” he said. “If you were on the defense side, would you? Too many risks involved.”

  The question surprised me. I could practically see the wheels turning behind Will’s eyes.

  “I mean, you’re good,” he said. “You’d get Harvey to trip up. Expose all his lies.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Generally, that’s the strategy.”

  Then Will’s face changed once more. He got a far-off expression as he nodded. The boy was working out some other problem in his head. One he might never even tell me about. Or it would come out some time down the road. Nobody else but me would remember the context. It would seem random. Only I knew that wasn’t it. It was just that my son had many puzzles spinning around in his brain. When the solution for one presented itself, he had to express it no matter where he was or what he was doing.

  “She won’t call him,” Will said. It was then I noticed the small book he held under the crook of his arm and half hidden by the folds of his robe. It was a dog-eared, green-and-gold-bound textbook. He put the book on the island.

  “Where did you get that?” I asked.

  “It was in your study,” he said.

  “Will, that’s not a good place for you,” Kat said as she mouthed an “I’m sorry,” over his head.

  “I didn’t touch anything,” he said. Blood rushed to my toes, but I breathed a sigh of relief. Just last week I’d removed all the pictures on my cork boards of the crime scene. Lord, I prayed Will hadn’t been in there then. He couldn’t have. We kept the door locked. Only three people had keys: me, Kat, and my cleaning lady.

  Will opened the book to a page with a pink sticky note inside.

  “What is that?” Kat asked.

  “Modern Trial Practice for New Attorneys,” Will answered her. “Written by Professor Elise M. Weaver, J.D. University Press, 1998.”

  Will ran his finger down the page. “The pitfalls of calling a criminal defendant in his own defense almost always outweigh any potential benefit.”

  “Weaver?” Kat asked. She covered her mouth to suppress a laugh. “Are you telling me she wrote the literal book on trial practice?”

  “A book, not the book,” I said, smirking. I took the thing from Will. “I don’t think I’ve cracked this thing open since the night before I took her exam.”

  Will and Kat shared a glance. Kat shrugged. Will turned to me.

  “Well,” he said. “How’d you do in her class, Mom?”

  “I got an A.” I laughed. “The only one she gave out.” I turned the book over and opened the front flap.

  Professor Weaver made a habit of inscribing her textbook and gifting it to the highest-grade earner in each of her courses. At the time, it was considered quite an honor.

  “Wow,” Kat said. “She’s insufferable.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah. Looking back, I guess that’s pretty pretentious. At the time it was fun knowing how jealous everyone else was about it. And in her defense, Professor Weaver wasn’t the only one who did that.”

  “Well, I think it’s cheesy,” Will said. “But she thinks she’s going to win.”

  “Why do you say?” I asked.

  “She only takes cases she can win,” he answered. “She’s tried four cases in the last fifteen years. This one’s the fifth. Every time she says she came out of retirement for it. The last one was the Red Mountain strangler in Southern Indiana.”

  Behind him, Kat took her coat off the hook. She mouthed good luck as she slid her arms in the sleeves. Will was still rattling off Elise Weaver’s win/loss record as if it were fantasy football statistics as Kat slipped quietly out the back door.

  “Will,” I said, when he finally let me get a word in edgeways. “We have a good case.”

  “Are you scared?” he asked.

  “Of what, honey?”

  Will didn’t answer at first. He fingered the edges of Elise’s book. I knew the better question here was whether he was scared.

  “Of losing?” I asked. “Well, I never like to lose. But we wouldn’t have brought this case forward if I didn’t believe Mickey Harvey was guilty.”

  “If he’s not guilty,” he said. “If the jury says he’s not guilty, then that’s it. Right? You don’t get a do-over.”

  “No,” I said. “That’s right. If Mickey Harvey’s acquitted, then our constitution prevents me from charging him with this crime again.”

  “Then won’t he be mad at you? If they acquit him. Won’t he blame you for trying to put him in jail?”

  “Will,” I said. “I’m not scared of Mickey Harvey.”

  “There are others though,” he said. “You don’t always win.”

  I smiled. “Well, I happen to win most of the time.”

  “Eighty-two percent of the time,” he said. “Dad said that’s an incredible average.”

  “Are you kidding? You counted?”

  “It wasn’t hard,” he said. “You can find it all on the internet.”

  “Will,” I said. “Have you been reading about my other cases?”

  He went quiet. It told me everything I needed to know.

  “Oh, honey,” I said. I ran a hand down the back of his head, smoothing his hair. That he let me made it clear how upset he really was.

  “Will, look at me.”

  He did.

  “You don’t have to be afraid of Mickey Harvey. He’s not going to get away with this.”

  “You don’t know,” he said. “Not really. Juries are unpredictable. She says that on page one hundred sixteen.”

  “Baby, you’re safe. We’re both safe. Do you hear me?”

  Slowly, Will lifted his eyes to meet mine. God. I’d been such a fool. This was my son, feeling so out of control. I thought he’d adjusted to Jason and my separation. Outwardly, he had. But this growing obsession with the Mickey Harvey trial had nothing to do with the Sutters at all.

  “Come on,” I said. “It’s about time to give your dad a call. Why don’t we do it on Zoom? We’ll all talk together. Would you like that?”

  Will’s shoulders dropped. “Yeah,” he said.

  “Okay.” I took him by the hand and let him into the living room where I kept my personal laptop. Eight o’clock on the dot and Jason was expecting the call.

  For now, it was enough. Will told Jason about his science fair project. He was animated, even smiling a few times. I’d defused this little bomb today, but knew the next one might not be so easy.

  Tuesday, the second week of trial, we waited until after the lunch break. I walked into the courtroom with Hojo at my side.

  “Ms. Brent?” Judge Denholm said. “Are you ready to call your next witness?”

  I looked at Hojo. Behind us, Sam Cruz sat. He gave me a barely perceptible nod. I’d briefed him early on my strategy for the day.

  “Your Honor,” I said. “At this time, the prosecution rests.”

  Denholm looked at the clock on the wall behind the jury. One fifteen.

  “All right,” he said. “It’s early yet. Ms. Weaver, are you prepared to call your first witness?”

  The highlighted pages from Elise
’s textbook swam in front of my eyes. Would she do it? Would she actually put Mickey Harvey on the stand? I’ll admit, my pulse raced at the prospect. I wanted it. Could taste it.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” she said. “The defense is more than ready to call our first witness.”

  “Let’s hear it then,” Denholm said.

  Elise shot me a look. A smile. Pure theatre, of course. Then she raised her chin and named her witness for the judge.

  29

  “The defense calls Devina Francis to the stand,” Elise said. Her entire posture changed. Elise reminded me of a racehorse at the starting gate. Someone had just fired the gun. She strode to the lectern, gripping the sides as Dev Francis worked her way through the gallery and up to the witness box.

  “Why’s she putting her up?” Hojo whispered beside me.

  “To make a mess,” I whispered back.

  “Ms. Francis,” Elise said. “Let me start out by expressing my sincerest condolences. You lost someone very close to you on May 18th, didn’t you?”

  “I lost my mother,” she said. “Patty Sutter was my mom.”

  “Patty Sutter. If you don’t mind, can you explain to the jury how she fit into the Sutter family as a whole?”

  “Not well,” Dev said. She seemed far different from when I interviewed her months ago. Then she was still in very deep grief. Now, she kept a straight posture with narrowed eyes. She never once looked at Mickey Harvey. That was my first inkling that something big was about to happen. And it was something I wouldn’t like.

  “What do you mean by that?” Elise asked.

  “My mother was C.J. Sutter’s second wife. C.J. had two kids. Sons. My older stepbrothers. Gary and Toby. They didn’t much care for my mom. And they made it a point of letting her know.”

  “How?” Elise asked.

  “When C.J. died, Gary and Toby tried to keep my mom from inheriting anything from his estate. He died with quite a bit of money on account of the sale of the bait shop to Verde.”

  “How much?” Elise asked.