Full On

by Caitlyn Willows

  Valerie slid her briefcase onto the table when they were finally behind closed doors, then turned to face him. “Why are you here, Phil?”

  He dragged a chair from the table to sit. “I’m here because you are. My sources told me Cambridge called for you.”

  His sources again. With his contacts, it was a wonder he hadn’t aspired to higher office. “He did.” No sense denying it. “He’s entitled to a defense.”

  “That’s why I’m here. Surely you can see the conflict of interest. I won’t have you compromised.” He tucked his arms across his chest, daring her to argue.

  Valerie slid into the opposite seat. “You mean you won’t have the office compromised.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “By your own words you two are a couple. You exercised caution to maintain a distance during the Estavarez trial to avoid a conflict of interest. You should do so now. Besides…” He leaned forward, claiming her space with the bulk of his shoulders. “I still think this is a crap move on his part, Valerie. I don’t trust him. The man is out for blood and he’s taking you down with him.”

  “These are bogus charges, Phil. There’s no way Russell killed Estavarez. He was with me all night from nine to nine.”

  “And before that?”

  “He spent the day driving Estavarez to a safe house Casey Sullivan provided. We were all concerned for his safety and welfare. His mother can verify that since she followed him there against orders. She can verify when Russell left since she was hiding until he did so.”

  He splayed his fingers, ducked his head like he always did when he was trying to reason with someone and wanted his way. “He was gagged. He was left there to bleed out. How long does it take to whip a person to get him to that point? Rigor had just started to set in. How long did he hang there? Was Russell with you all night? How sound a sleeper are you? He never budged? Valerie…Russell Cambridge is using you for his own agenda.”

  Tears burned her eyes. She ordered them away. “No.”

  He eased away, gaze honed and locked on hers. “The bloody whip was in his house. Also found was a bloody cane.”

  The one used to beat Bev?

  “And an unregistered handgun similar to the caliber used to shoot Detective O’Connell yesterday morning when he was jogging. He’s in critical condition.”

  “And I suppose there are no witnesses.”

  Phil slowly shook his head. “Walk away, Valerie. I promise I’ll defend him to the utmost of my abilities.”

  “He’s being framed.” Wasn’t that clear? Why would someone as meticulous as Russell leave evidence lying around?

  “He’s settling a score. You, his woman, beat an unbeatable attorney in court. Detectives he trusted gave him shit to work with. The man responsible for all this was back on the street. And now comes word the DA’s looking to hire you. He’s going down, but he’s taking you with him. I can’t let that happen. You’re too good an attorney to suffer for his ego.”

  She’d heard enough. “How in the world can you possibly defend him? You’ve already judged him guilty. I know he’s not and I intend to prove it.” Valerie’s chair legs squealed against the floor as she stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a client.”

  “If you go against my orders, I’ll have no choice but to—”

  “Fire me?” She laughed. “Apparently I have another offer waiting in the wings.” She skidded her briefcase from the table, returned to the front desk and wasted no time on preliminaries. “I’m Valerie Oswald, attorney for Russell Cambridge.”

  “I’ll have him brought to Interview 3 for you.” The female officer jerked her head toward the hallway. “Back the way you came, ma’am.” Valerie had taken no more than three steps when the woman added, “Sean O’Connell is a good friend of mine. Don’t appreciate him being shot in streets like a rabid dog.”

  Valerie couldn’t leave it alone. Facing the woman, she added a barb of her own. “Then hopefully with due diligence your detectives can find the real culprit responsible. Though with hotheads due diligence seems to be a little much to ask of late.”

  She did a crisp pivot and walked away, passing Phil without acknowledging him as she went to the assigned interview room. Thanks to him, she now knew more about the evidence against Russell, and she couldn’t help but wonder if that was Phil’s intent in the first place. Then his other words filtered through, sowing doubt, making her wonder.

  No, Russell wouldn’t do this. She shook her head. If anyone was trying to drag her down it was Phil, or the son of a bitch really responsible for all this. Phil? He did seem invested in all this. But he had nothing at stake, so it made no sense. Who else might have a stick up their ass and enough clout to go after everyone with this much force? Dave Deacon? He’d lost face too, not good with an election coming up next year. He might even consider she and Russell had made a fool of his office by their affair.

  She tried Casey again. Again no answer. A muttered curse preceded yet another voice mail. Then the door opened. Her heart twisted, seeing Russell handcuffed. His guard fairly pushed him inside the room and slammed the door behind him. She stomped toward it.

  “I’ll get those cuffs off you.”

  Russell blocked her path. “Let it go, honey. We need to pick our battles. Alibi me and it’s over.”

  “I wish it were that simple.” She dragged the chairs side by side. “Sit. Here’s what I’ve learned.”

  Despair weighed his shoulders down farther and farther with each tidbit of information she shared. Her heart broke for him. Sadly, Phil was right. She was too close. Her emotions were involved, more so than when they faced off in court. There was no objectivity.

  “Phil’s offered to take your case. In effect, ordered me to stand down.”

  Russell shook his head. “No. I want you.” He sagged a little more with the words. He knew the futility of her representing him. “Get Casey.”

  “I’ve been trying to reach her all morning. No answer. I’ve left messages.”

  “Leave another. At this point she’s the only one I’d trust.”

  She brushed her hand over his back. “I can’t take this case, Russell. We both know that. But if I walk out that door without trying to alibi for you it won’t look good. You’re going up against your own people. You know what they make of that action. I say we play this out as expected. We might glean more information that will help Casey defend you.”

  “Let’s do it then. Get it over with. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  They weren’t. Detectives tore apart Valerie’s alibi using the same arguments Phil had thrown her way. The evidence found in Russell’s home was circumstantial but damning. The fact someone had busted through the back patio sliding glass door was considered smoke and mirrors on his part. Her frustration built to the point she couldn’t think straight. This was her man they were tearing apart. But she wasn’t down yet.

  “Don’t you think it odd he’d have all this laying about his house?” She didn’t give them time to respond. “A whip that could have easily been tossed into the desert. A gun brought home when there are hundreds of Dumpsters around, or again the desert as a disposal site since that’s where Estavarez was found. Estavarez was accounted for by his mother after my client left. Unless he has transporter technology, I highly doubt Mr. Cambridge could have yet another round trip without my knowing it.”

  “It’s not uncommon for a woman to cover for her man,” Detective Somers replied. He’d been around for a long time and could investigate rings around lackadaisical cops like Jacks and O’Connell. Why couldn’t he see through all this?

  “I’m personally insulted, Detective.” She used the coldest tone in her repertoire, which wasn’t hard to do.

  “As am I.” Casey Sullivan stood in the doorway. “This ends now. I can personally vouch for Mr. Cambridge’s whereabouts last night. Not only did I speak with the deceased after Mr. Cambridge returned from his trip, I also know he didn’t leave Ms. Oswald’s home until nine this morning.”

  Some
rs turned ice-blue eyes her way. “You sat outside all night?”

  “No, a member of my security team did so. I was as concerned for their welfare as that of Mr. Estavarez.”

  “How unfortunate you didn’t assign someone to watch him. He might still be alive.”

  “Not that any of your officers would care,” Russell piped in. “Sergeant Bertram took great delight in knowing he was dead. Ms. Sullivan, Ms. Oswald and I trusted the sanctity of the safe house and his family’s word they wouldn’t follow. They’re the ones who put him at risk.”

  Valerie placed her hand on his arm—a silent warning to remain silent.

  Somers slumped in his chair. “And how do you explain the attempt on O’Connell’s life and the weapon found in Mr. Cambridge’s house?”

  “The same way we explain the whip. They were planted.” Valerie stood. They’d won. “Release my client.”

  “Now,” Casey added.

  Somers wasn’t happy about it but he had little choice. They had proof of Russell’s innocence. He called for an officer to uncuff him. To Russell’s credit he didn’t rub his wrists once they were free. He didn’t stare Somers down. He acted as if it were a minor inconvenience. The guarded look in his eyes said differently. Valerie recognized it well.

  “You can get your things out front.” Somers led the way.

  “I’m going to need to get some things from my house,” Russell said to his back. “I also want to make sure nothing was stolen.”

  “I’ll arrange it,” Somers replied, then deserted them in reception.

  Valerie wasn’t surprised to find Phil waiting. It was Dave Deacon’s presence she found curious.

  “We all good?” they asked together.

  “We are,” the three of them responded.

  Both Phil and Dave gave a nod and left.

  Processing out took an hour. Punishment for Team Cambridge being right and the cops wrong…again. By the time they walked outside, not one reporter was in sight.

  “Looks like Phil and Dave may have done something right after all,” Casey said. “Anyone up for lunch? My treat.”

  “I want to get to my house.” Russell scrolled through his phone, then stuffed it in his jeans pocket.

  “Then let’s go.” Valerie hooked his elbow. “Thanks, Casey. We owe you. We’ll talk later.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not so fast.” Casey’s long strides put her easily in step with them. “I’ll take Russell by the house. He needs an impartial witness to anything he finds.”

  Valerie hated that she was right, even while she blessed Casey’s forethought. “I’ll follow and stay in the car. That way he and I can head home from there.”

  “Go home, Valerie.” Casey’s gentle touch to her shoulder softened the order. “I’ll bring him home, then together maybe we can try to figure out what the hell’s going on.”

  Wasn’t it clear? Someone was trying to bring down anyone and everyone involved in the Estavarez trial.

  Chapter Twelve

  Russell hated every blessed second of this. He wanted Valerie with him, not driving off in the opposite direction. He needed to wrap himself around her and hold on for dear life. God…she’d stood by him.

  He closed his eyes against a rush of tears, then opened them to stare out the window as Casey zipped through town. The last thing he needed was for her to see him break down. He’d never felt more vulnerable, despite the bad-ass façade for the rest of the world. The minute those cuffs closed over his wrists he felt real hate. It was hard not to consider the whole setup a vendetta against him perpetrated by the police. They’d been at odds since the beginning over the Estavarez case. His stand the other night only made things worse. He wouldn’t put it past one of them—Jacks, most likely—to have followed Mrs. Estavarez to her son and killed the kid himself. Framing Russell would have been the icing on the cake. Where the attack on Bev and Detective O’Connell fit it, he didn’t know.

  “Don’t worry. Valerie will be safe,” Casey said. “I have a man on her.”

  “I do hope you mean that figuratively.” A little humor never hurt. It didn’t help either.

  Casey snickered. “Jealous and possessive. Interesting.”

  “I love her, Casey. We love each other.”

  “I know,” she quietly replied.

  Russell knew it too. Really knew it. His worst fear had been that Valerie wouldn’t come to the station, that she would buy in to the trap encircling him. She hadn’t. She’d dug in there and fought. He wanted to hold her close and never let go.

  “I can hear the wheels turning in your head. What’s on your mind?”

  Marrying Valerie. Not something Casey needed to know. “Trying to shove all the pieces together and figure out the puzzle.”

  “That makes two of us. With the exception of Bev, everyone else attacked is associated with Estavarez. That would make Bev’s assault unrelated.”

  “Except for that cane found in my house.” It was too much of a coincidence not to be connected to her. Although it could have been used on Teri Trent. “Bev’s connection is through Teri Trent.” A loose connection to Estavarez but one nonetheless.

  Casey blew out a breath. “Bev does know more than she’s telling.”

  He shifted around. “We pull that thread and this whole thing might unravel.”

  She flexed her fingers around the wheel. “Do you suppose she knows who the real rapist is?”

  No matter how diligently Bev protected her clients’ privacy, Russell couldn’t see her knowingly allowing someone to get away with that. She’d take action. “I don’t think she did before, but she sure might now.”

  “Getting her to talk is impossible. I’ve tried.” She slowly shook her head.

  “Two people are dead. A detective is in critical condition. She was beaten nearly to death. Now I’ve been targeted. I know Bev. She won’t stand for that.” Was Valerie next? Casey? Dave, Phil, even Jacks? “The man you have watching Valerie is good?”

  “He hasn’t left her side, has substantial weapons training, and is well-versed in martial arts. He’s good.”

  Relief seeped through his body. The sight of his house ahead brought tension rushing back in. “They impounded my car.” Bastards.

  “So it seems. How kind of them not to tell us.” Sarcasm dripped like acid from her lips. “I’ll make some calls while you gather your things.”

  A patrol car waited at the curb. At least something had gone right. Too bad the officer waiting was Sergeant Bertram.

  “I’ll do all the talking,” Casey said as she pulled into the driveway.

  Bertram exited his vehicle and strolled their way. “I’m to follow you through the house.”

  “Understood.” She swung open the door and blocked his view of Russell. “Keep a respectful distance.”

  “Yes ma’am.” He tapped his fingers against his forehead in mock salute, then let Russell lead the way inside.

  The sight of his ransacked house was no better this time around. In fact, it was worse with fingerprint dust all over the damn place. Russell picked his way through the mess. He had his priorities. The rest could wait. Bertram and Casey were close behind. Already she was on the phone. Russell designated her conversation background noise. He was focused on one thing alone.

  The snaked trail of blood leading to his bedroom made that nearly impossible. It was forever burned into the cream-colored carpet. He’d never be able to live here again. If all went the way his heart wanted, he wouldn’t have to.

  He closed his mind to the chaos and walked straight to his bureau. His underwear drawer, specifically. Not the best hiding place for something so precious. But then, he hadn’t expected this. He yanked the drawer open, shoved his hand deep and nearly wept with relief when his fingers closed over the blue velvet box. He drew it forward.

  Bertram’s hand clamped over his wrist. Too late Russell realized how his action looked.

  “Release him,” Casey shouted.

  “And let him shoot me?” Bertram sn
apped back.

  Russell relaxed his fingers. “It’s not a weapon. See for yourself.” The thought of this man touching something so pure filled his stomach with bile. Finding himself facedown and cuffed would have been worse.

  He stepped aside for Bertram, who wasted little time digging in. The expression on his face shifted to neutral when he realized what he found. He pulled away empty-handed. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “No worries.” Russell retrieved the box, took a breath and opened it. The round white diamond solitaire winked up at him, perfect and unsullied in its platinum setting.

  “Beautiful,” Bertram said. “A thief would have taken a sparkler like that. Must have set you back a pretty penny.”

  Russell merely shrugged. Valerie was worth every cent and more. Bertram didn’t need to know that. He shoved the ring box in his pocket, pulled a suitcase from his closet and packed as much as he could get inside. God only knew how long it would take for a cleanup crew to get inside. He didn’t want to have to come back until this place was pristine.

  Bertram watched his every move. Casey watched Bertram. In less than fifteen minutes, Russell was ready to go. He locked the door behind him. Bertram resealed the crime tape and they all returned to their respective vehicles.

  Russell tossed his bag in Casey’s open trunk. “Let’s go get my car.”

  “They don’t have it. They never impounded it.”

  “So you’re telling me someone stole my car?” He slammed the lid shut. “Fucking great.”

  “Bertram hasn’t left yet. You want to make a report?”

  “Do I have a choice?” He jerked around and strode toward the patrol car.

  “Calmly, Russell,” Casey called out. He waved her off but eased his approach.

  Bertram was professional about taking the report. Russell gave him kudos for that. With luck they’d find it all in one piece soon. He didn’t hold his breath on that one.