by Carsen Taite
“Zach,” her mother said. “I need you to listen to Peyton. I love Neil, but he’s not seeing things clearly.”
He met Peyton’s eyes and she saw reluctant acceptance. “Okay.”
She squeezed his hand and made a silent vow to earn back his trust.
*
Lily stood in front of the law office, squared her shoulders, and pushed through the doors. She held a thick envelope in an iron grip, ready to do battle.
“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked.
“Yes. Lily Gantry, and I’m a few minutes early for a ten o’clock.”
She walked around the waiting area, too keyed up to sit. It had taken her almost a week to make this decision, and now that she had, she couldn’t wait to get started. First thing this morning, she’d driven downtown to the opulent offices of Nester’s law firm, knowing full well he had a breakfast meeting with her father.
The receptionist at Nester’s firm hadn’t even asked if she had an appointment. As a Gantry, she had carte blanche to drop in at any time. The young woman had offered her coffee and then rushed off to find an associate who could assist Ms. Gantry with the urgent matter she wished to discuss.
Lily had bet on the odds that the associate assigned to help her would be male, and she wasn’t wrong. Counting on young male hormones to win out over discretion, she implored eager Brice to help her with an urgent matter. Twenty minutes later, she walked out with a copy of her grandfather’s trust securely in her grasp.
“Lily?”
She turned to see Morgan standing behind her. She thrust the envelope at her. “I was able to get a copy of the trust document, but I haven’t had a chance to look it over. I also put together everything I know about my birth. I’m ready to find my mother’s family. Are you ready to help me?”
Morgan smiled. “Of course. Follow me.” She led the way back into the suite of offices. They stopped in front of Erica’s door. “Erica will talk to you about the trust and I’ll go set up a meeting with one of our investigators. I’ll see you in about an hour, okay?”
Lily nodded. Now that she was here, committed, she was certain this was the right thing to do.
Erica looked like she was in the middle of a paper tornado, but nothing about the haphazard piles of paper scattered throughout her office seemed to faze her. Lily, on the other hand, couldn’t look at anything else. Erica had appeared to be so put together when they’d last met. How good could she be at sorting through her family’s complicated dealings if she couldn’t keep her office organized?
“They say a messy desk is the sign of genius.”
Lily was only slightly embarrassed at being so easy to read. “They do, do they? Looks like you might be a little too busy to help me.”
Erica pushed her glasses up her nose and shook her head. “This is how I work. The law is a puzzle and the facts are the puzzle pieces. I have to spread them all out and spend time looking at them to see where they all fit.” She held out her hand. “You brought documents for me to review?”
It took Lily a minute to recover from Erica’s abrupt change in topic, but she handed over the envelope. “My family doesn’t know I have this copy. I got it from an associate at the lawyer’s office this morning.”
Erica was already thumbing through the pages and merely muttered “uh-huh” without looking up. Lily started counting ceiling tiles to avoid spying at the papers lining Erica’s desk, certain to be full of secrets about other people’s families, other people’s eccentricities. To keep from eavesdropping, she reflected on the only family she knew.
Her grandfather, Rufus Gantry, had been kind to her, always treating her as if she’d been born a Gantry. His kindness was especially welcome since others in the Gantry family had made it clear her lack of pedigree meant she shouldn’t be entitled to share the inheritance he’d left behind. As the oldest son, her father Cyrus had taken Rufus’s place at the helm of Gantry Oil Enterprises when he died. His brother, Brock, and his children were left with lesser holdings, none of which would ever give them complete power over the family business. While her cousins lived a lavish lifestyle on their portion of the inheritance, Lily hadn’t made a single withdrawal from the trust fund she’d received access to on her twenty-fifth birthday, which meant the well-invested fund had almost doubled in worth over the last five years.
“You haven’t withdrawn any of the money?” Erica asked.
“No. After my graduate work in Germany at the University of Oldenburg’s program on renewable energy, I worked with a cooperative developing new methods of harnessing wind power. I developed a patent during my time there and, as part of my agreement with the cooperative, I licensed it back to them at a reduced rate. Even with the discount, the royalties I’ve earned have been more than enough to pay my living expenses.”
“So you’ve had access to the trust for five years and they’re just now asking you to sign away your rights?”
Lily met Erica’s gaze and saw disbelief. “It’s odd, I know, but it’s not the only eccentric thing my family’s ever done.”
“Is that so?”
“My grandfather held a contest between his two sons to see who would get married first.”
“A contest?”
“It was simple, really. Produce a valid marriage license, a notarized prenup, and the first one to make it through a full year of wedded bliss earned a seat on the board.”
“I’m guessing your dad won?”
“He doesn’t like to lose.”
“How did your mother feel about being a trophy wife?”
There was that bluntness again. Part of her found Erica’s candor refreshing. She’d often wondered whether her parents had fallen in love before or after the wedding. She had no real evidence to tell either way, but she did know they were genuinely affectionate toward each other, and she’d always assumed her mother wouldn’t have married just for money. Maybe she was naive, but there was the matter of the prenup. “My mother is a practical woman.”
“Bet they didn’t wait five years after the wedding to have her sign the prenup.” Erica looked down at the trust document. “Your father’s lawyer is Nester Rawlins. Would he have handled the prenup too?”
“Why does that matter?” Lily was confused about how her questions about the trust had turned into an examination of her parents’ marriage.
“On its face, it doesn’t, but if Nester has handled previous family dealings like the prenuptial agreement, then he’s aware of the importance of timely notice and the possibility of waiver.”
Lily shook her head. “You’re speaking a different language. English, please.”
Erica smiled. “Sorry. Look, your mother would’ve signed a prenup before she got married, you know, so she could have the opportunity to choose whether she wanted to make that a condition of the marriage. Follow me?”
“Yes, but—”
“If there were going to be conditions on you receiving access to your trust fund, you should have been advised about those before you were given access. Waiting five years to impose restrictions isn’t reasonable, it isn’t fair, and it probably constitutes a waiver of their right to ask you to sign away your rights.”
“Got it. You’re saying they waited too long to ask me to sign.”
“Oh, they can ask all right, but if they try to take away your access because you won’t sign, then we have a good chance of keeping them from doing so.”
It was on the tip of Lily’s tongue to say she didn’t care about the money. She didn’t, at least not for herself, but there was so much good she could do with it. More good than if the money fell into other hands. “What’s the worst case scenario?”
“You refuse to sign the addendum, you actually violate the terms by looking for your mother’s family, and you lose access to the funds.”
“But then where does the money go?”
Erica picked up the hefty document and thumbed through the pages. “Here it is. The money would revert to the estate, and Lance
and Darla Gantry inherit your portion of the trust. Are they your cousins?”
Lily was impressed at Erica’s quick command of the bulky legal document. “Yes. They’re insufferable. The money would be gone in less than a year.”
Erica set the papers down. “What do you want to do?”
Lily looked back up at the ceiling, pretending to consider her options, but she knew she’d made up her mind before she’d walked in this morning. “I want you to prepare for the fallout. I’m going to find my mother’s family and I’m going to keep my trust fund.”
CHAPTER NINE
Peyton sat in the first row behind the railing and watched Bianca at work on the morning docket. Most of the proceedings were simple detention hearings, but in her experience, how someone handled the basics told her all she needed to know about their abilities. This morning’s docket had been loaded with a series of defendants arrested as part of a large methamphetamine ring over the weekend. She’d carefully studied the pretrial reports for each of the defendants and settled on the one about to stand before the judge as the best bet for what she had planned.
“Your Honor,” Bianca said from the podium in the well of the courtroom. “Section 3142(e)(3)(A) provides a rebuttal presumption that in a controlled substances case such as this, where the defendant faces a potential maximum sentence of ten years, she should be detained pending trial. The defense has offered family testimony and evidence of the defendant’s commendable work history, but nothing they have presented is sufficient to overcome the presumption. Therefore, we respectfully ask that Ms. Chavez be held without bond pending trial.” Bianca finished speaking and waited for the judge to make eye contact. When he finally looked in their direction, it was Peyton he locked eyes with first.
“Ms. Cruz, Do you have co-counsel with you today?”
Peyton stood but waited for Bianca to answer the question since it had been directed at her.
“Your Honor, this is AUSA Peyton Davis. She just transferred in from our D.C. office and will be working with me on cases handled by the task force.”
Judge Nivens pushed his glasses up his nose. “Thank you, counselor. Ms. Davis, it’s good to see you. It’s been a long time.”
Peyton saw Bianca’s curious glance out of the corner of her eye, but she focused on the judge. She hadn’t mentioned to Bianca that she’d clerked at this courthouse years ago, just out of law school. Except for the judges and a few of the U.S. marshals, there were very few folks left from her stint as a judicial clerk. “It’s good to see you too, Judge, and it’s nice to be back in a warmer climate.”
“I imagine,” he said and then without taking a breath, he turned to the defense table. “Carmen Chavez, having heard the evidence today, I find there is probable cause to support the charges, and I am ordering you to remain in the custody of the U.S. marshals service pending trial.”
Peyton listened while he read the familiar litany of information about pretrial deadlines. This was the final detention hearing of the morning, and they’d saved it for last for good reason. While the bailiff took Carmen to the small holding cell next door to the courtroom, Peyton waited for Bianca, and then they walked over to the public defender. Dominic Fowler was explaining to the defendant’s family what would happen over the next few months. She’d watched him handle six detention hearings that afternoon, and she knew all she needed to. He’d been doing this for a while, and he treated each proceeding with rote indifference. He had made a feeble effort in Carmen’s case, but probably only because her mother had cried on his shoulder. She couldn’t really blame him. The law wasn’t on his side in these cases, and his time would be better spent working out a deal or getting ready for trial rather than trying to keep his client free for now.
He turned to them after the family left. “When can I expect discovery?”
Bianca looked at Peyton who nodded. “I can get you copies of what we have in the next few days, but maybe we can shortcut the process.”
“You making an offer already? You haven’t even arrested everyone involved.”
“Maybe your client could help with that.”
He started gathering his files. “Fat chance. Did you see her? She works in an office. This bust was a fluke. If she was involved at all, it was minimal. Just because you guys can indict everyone even remotely connected with a drug ring, doesn’t mean the little people know the major players.”
Peyton responded. “Sure, that’s usually the case, but not this time.” She stuck out a hand. “Peyton Davis, nice to meet you. We’ve asked the marshals to hold your client. Think we could talk to her before she heads back to the jail?”
Dominic stared at her hand for a moment before accepting the gesture. “I think the family’s considering hiring a lawyer.”
“Be a shame if they spent a bunch of money to accomplish nothing better. I really think she’d like to hear what we have to say. What do you think?”
He looked down at the stack of files in his arms and then at his watch. “What the hell, my afternoon’s already shot. But you talk; she listens. No questions until I have a chance to meet with her alone. Understood?”
Peyton nodded. “Understood.”
There was one tiny room in the holdover that allowed for a contact visit. The three attorneys bunched into the space and Peyton asked the marshal to remove Carmen’s handcuffs. She waited until he left the room to start talking.
“Ms. Chavez, my name is Peyton Davis, and you remember Bianca Cruz from the courtroom.” Carmen nodded and Peyton continued. “You understand you’re charged with conspiracy to deliver methamphetamine, enough to merit a sentence of around twenty years?” She nodded again. “What I want to make sure you understand is that we don’t have to prove you delivered the drugs. In fact, I know you didn’t.”
Finally, Carmen met her eyes. Peyton saw fear, terror even. This young, well-kept girl wasn’t a drug dealer. Based on the report from pretrial services, she didn’t even use drugs. Peyton suspected she knew what had driven Carmen to crime, and she was about to exploit that weakness. “What I do know is that you set up this buy and that’s enough to send you to prison for twenty years.” She paused to let the information sink in. “Some people think there’s such a thing as parole, like you do a few years and get out early. We don’t have that in the federal system. The most you can hope for is a little time off for good behavior. Even if you’re an exemplary inmate, you will do at least eighty-five percent of your time.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“I want you to know exactly what you’re facing when we convict you, and we will convict you. This week, I plan to deliver tapes to your attorney. You’re on these tapes, calls made from your cell phone, to one of the top captains of the Zetas.” She leaned in close. “Everyone thinks you’re sweet and innocent. You work in an office, you have a child. You dress right, you don’t do drugs. From the outside looking in, you’re a model citizen. But I’m not on the outside looking in. I’m right in the middle of it and I know better.”
Dominic cleared his throat and spoke. “Did you bring us in here to berate my client? If so, this is a waste of time.”
Peyton never took her eyes off Carmen and was impressed that she didn’t shy away from the stare. “Truth is, I need your help, and if you give it to me, I’ll go to bat for you.”
“I don’t know anything.”
Peyton shook her head. “No one calls Arturo Vargas directly for a drug buy. There’s a chain of command, and if word reaches Arturo, it doesn’t come through a phone line. You are connected to him somehow. That connection could be the thing that breaks you or the thing that sets you free. Your choice.”
Carmen hung her head. Peyton shot a look at Bianca who apparently took it as a sign to take up the thread.
“Carmen,” Bianca said. “I know what it’s like to have a child who relies on you for everything. What will happen to your son if you go to prison for the next twenty years?”
“And what will happen to him if
she rats out the largest drug cartel in Texas?” Dominic said.
Bianca spoke directly to Carmen. “We can protect you. Do you really think that even if you don’t cooperate, he will believe you didn’t talk?”
Dominic stood up. “Now that you’ve started asking questions, this meeting is over. You want to talk to my client, you call me.” He was two steps toward the door before Carmen spoke.
“Wait.”
Peyton motioned to Bianca not to react. If Carmen was going to cooperate, really cooperate, it had to be her decision or at the very least she had to think it was her decision. Truth was, she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Federal drug laws, especially when conspiracy was alleged, were so easy to prove and federal juries so conservative, they could probably charge and convict Carmen’s minor children just for being in the same room as their mother when she called Arturo.
Dominic shrugged and sat back down. “Carmen, you have no obligation to speak to them and I strongly advise you not to until we’ve seen the evidence.”
Peyton saw Bianca open her mouth to speak, and she deliberately dropped a pad of paper on the floor to ward her off. She could imagine Bianca wanted to point out that, as a party to the crime, Carmen already knew what the evidence was and knew she was damned. Pointing that out would be overkill. When she’d been a new prosecutor, she’d made similar mistakes, showboating instead of reeling her catch in, nice and slow. They had to let Carmen feel she had some control or she’d resist the line they had just thrown her.
Silent seconds ticked away before Carmen finally spoke, and when she did, her voice was low and quiet. “I need to know my children will be safe.”
Peyton nodded. “I understand.”
“And my mother. She will take care of them.”
“It’s our plan to keep you all safe.”
“Your plans mean nothing to the Vargases.”
“It’s not unreasonable to be scared of them,” Peyton said, “but that will never stop me.”
“Then you are crazy, because they will kill you.”