Jessie Black Box Set 2

by Larry A Winters

  Jessie felt anger rise inside her. She’d expected support from Leary. Maybe even help. He wasn’t a yes-man, blindly loyal to the city. He was a seeker of justice, like she was.

  “That’s not relevant to whether her death should be thoroughly investigated,” she said.

  “No, of course not. But from Warren’s point of view—”

  “And besides that, don’t you think there’s a need for lawyers like Kelly to keep the police honest? You think that all these claims she handled were frivolous? That all she was doing was trying to cash in on the PPD’s bank account?”

  Leary let go of her hand and straightened in his chair. “All I’m saying is that Warren probably has good reasons for not wanting to involve the DA’a office.”

  “I can’t believe you’re taking his side on this.”

  “I’m not saying I take his side. Just that I understand where he’s coming from.”

  “I guess you understand where the AID investigators are coming from, too. And Emily.”

  Leary sighed. “You know I’m not the PPD’s number one fan. And when I was a cop, I saw some activity that would probably be considered misconduct. I would never deny that. But bringing these lawsuits, asking for millions of dollars? What does that accomplish? It just drains money and resources that should be spent fighting crime and making Philadelphia safe.”

  “What it accomplishes is to make sure the police follow the law and the Constitution. Otherwise, we would have a totalitarian police state. It might be safe, but it wouldn’t be a place where you want to live.”

  “That’s law school stuff. This is the real world.”

  The words came like a slap to the face. All she could do was stare at him. “You don’t believe that, Leary.”

  “Warren is just trying to maintain good relations between the DA’s Office and the police department. It’s not personal.” Leary looked away, seeming to avoid her gaze. She sensed there was something he wasn’t saying.

  “What’s this really about?” she said.

  He started to respond, then stopped. He let out a breath. “I’m trying to help you.”

  “Really? It doesn’t feel that way.”

  “You love being a prosecutor. You love the DA’s Office. I don’t want you to do something impulsive and jeopardize all of that for a woman you barely knew.”

  Jessie leaned back in her chair, finally understanding. “You think you’re protecting me from myself.”

  “I just don’t want you to—”

  “Do you have any idea how incredibly condescending that is, Leary?”

  He put his hands up. “I’m not being condescending.”

  “Believe it or not, I’m actually a highly competent, intelligent woman capable of rational thinking.”

  “I know that. I love you for that. I just don’t want you to make a mistake—”

  “You mean you don’t want me to make the same mistake you made?”

  His face fell and he looked down at his hands. Jessie felt a rush of regret. What she’d said had been a low blow. She knew the loss of his career as a homicide detective still caused him great pain. But she couldn’t take the words back. She was so angry, she wasn’t sure she would take them back even if she could.

  “Emily and Warren want nothing to do with this.” She shook her head, feeling her anger give way to frustration and sadness. “I thought I could count on you to be the one person who would support me no matter what. Obviously, I was wrong.”

  “Jessie….”

  She got up from her chair. “I need to get back to the office.”

  8

  Back in the quiet stillness of her office, Jessie closed her eyes and let a wave of emotions sweep through her. She felt anger and sadness, but mostly a strange mixture of responsibility and guilt. Kelly Lee had come to her for help. Now Kelly was dead. Could Jessie have done something to save her?

  Maybe. Maybe not. Agonizing over what had happened wasn’t going to change it.

  Her cell phone buzzed on her desk. She glanced at the screen, expecting to see Leary’s name, but it wasn’t Leary. It was Emily Graham.

  She took a deep breath before answering. “Hey, Emily.”

  “Hey.” There was a coldness, a distance in her friend’s voice that brought an ache to Jessie’s chest.

  Could Jessie say something to mend things? “About yesterday….”

  Graham cut her off. “Unless you’re about to tell me you’re going to walk away from this Kelly Lee thing, just stop talking.”

  Jessie stopped talking.

  “That’s what I thought.” She heard Graham’s sigh through the phone. “I’m calling because I thought you’d want to know, the ME was able to identify the driver in the wreck based on fingerprints recovered from the body.”

  “Kelly?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a silence on the line, and Jessie sensed her friend’s hesitation. “Is there more?” Jessie said.

  “The accident investigation team didn’t find any evidence that the accident was caused intentionally. No tampering with the vehicle, no trace of a bomb or other explosive. All police resources have been pulled from the case. There isn’t going to be any further investigation.”

  Jessie’s grip tightened around her phone. “I see.”

  “I know you were hoping for more.”

  “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.”

  “I’m just telling you what AID told me.”

  “Kelly reported a threat against her. There’s a company and a person with motive to hurt her. Come on.”

  “Look, Jessie, I tried to explain this to you. There’s no sympathy for Kelly Lee within the department. No one is interested in going the extra mile on this one. That’s just the way it is.”

  “You don’t sound too broken up about it.”

  “I already told you why.”

  “That wasn’t personal, Emily. Representing clients was her job. She’s entitled to the same diligence as any other victim in Philadelphia. What she did for a living, any cases she brought against the police department—or you—none of that is relevant.”

  “This conversation is pointless. I called to give you the information, because I’m your friend, but—”

  “I’m your friend, too. You know that, right, Emily?”

  There was a pause. “I thought I did.”

  “Emily—”

  “I know one thing. If some scumbag lawyer targeted you, I’d be on your side, one-hundred-percent.”

  “This isn’t about sides.” She could feel the arguments ready to pour from her mouth, but they were the same arguments she’d already made. She realized Graham was right—there was no point in continuing the debate. Nothing she said would convince Graham that Kelly Lee deserved the best efforts of the PPD—or Jessie.

  “I need to run,” Graham said.

  “Okay.”

  Jessie ended the call and put away her phone. She leaned back in her chair, feeling miserable. Graham obviously felt betrayed, hurt, and that was something Jessie would need to address. But not by turning her back on Kelly Lee. Not by standing by and allowing an injustice to occur.

  Fewer than twenty-four hours had passed since the accident, and the police had already ended their investigation. If Jessie didn’t do something, no one else would.

  But what could she do? Without the support of Graham, without any help from Leary, and without any authorization from Warren, she was alone.

  She reached for the mouse and keyboard on her desk, then stopped and picked up her cell phone instead. Warren had prohibited her from “using the resources of this office” to get involved. Technically, if she relied on her own resources, she’d be complying with his commands.

  Yeah, I’m sure that argument will carry a lot of weight when you’re begging him not to fire you.

  It was a chance she had to take. She opened the web browser on her phone. One Google search later, she had the phone number for Kelly’s law office. She called it.

 
A woman’s voice answered on the third ring. “Kelly Lee, Attorney at Law. This is her assistant, Cheyenne.”

  Jessie froze. There was something too businesslike, too matter-of-fact about the woman’s tone. Had no one notified her of Kelly’s death?

  “My name is Jessica Black. I’m a prosecutor at the DA’s Office, and also a friend of Kelly’s. I…. Has anyone from the police department contacted you?”

  “The police department? I don’t know what this is about, but Kelly is not in the office at the moment. I’d be happy to take a message—”

  “No, listen. I’m calling with some terrible news, Cheyenne. Kelly was in a car accident in Center City last night. A bad one.” Jessie felt her throat constrict. “Kelly is dead.”

  She heard the assistant’s sharp intake of breath. “Oh no.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Cheyenne, I’m calling because Kelly told me she was working on a big case—a class action lawsuit against a toy company. The client’s name was….” She struggled to remember it.

  “Rowland,” Cheyenne said. “Ken and Deanna Rowland. Their son’s name was Sam.”

  “You’re familiar with the case?”

  “All I know is Kelly was really passionate about it. She said it was her chance to do something good.”

  “She said something very similar to me. Are you at her office now, Cheyenne?”

  “Why?”

  “I’d like to see the Rowland file.”

  “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to give that to you.”

  “Please, it’s….” Jessie hesitated, unsure how much to tell this woman she didn’t know. “I’m not sure the car accident was really an accident. Kelly confided in me that she felt threatened. She thought someone might be following her. And she thought it was because of the Rowland case.”

  “Yeah, she said the same thing to me. She told me to be careful.”

  “It would be really helpful if I could see that file.”

  “Look, don’t take this the wrong way. You sound legit. But the police have a history of calling here and trying to get information they’re not supposed to have.”

  Jessie felt her jaw tense. “I’m not the police. I’m a lawyer, like Kelly.”

  “You’re a prosecutor. To me, that doesn’t sound much different than the police.”

  “Okay. I understand your concern. How about this? If the Rowlands authorize you to give me their file, would that make you comfortable?”

  She held her breath as Cheyenne seemed to think it over. “I guess so.”

  “Can you give me their contact information? I’ll talk to them right now.”

  Cheyenne seemed to hesitate again, but then she gave Jessie a phone number and address.

  Five minutes later, Jessie headed out of the DA’s Office, careful to avoid Warren Williams.

  9

  Jessie retrieved her car from its Center City garage and drove out to Devon, Pennsylvania, a town that was part of Philadelphia's Main Line suburbs. The tall buildings and city streets of Philly gave way to green lawns—slightly brown from the autumn chill—and large single-family homes.

  The residential sections of Devon looked like sets from a movie, with neat fences, basketball hoops mounted above garage doors, and bikes and skateboards in the driveways. As the GPS app on her phone directed her to the address Kelly Lee’s assistant had given her, she couldn’t help imagining living in a town like this one day. Raising a family. The thought brought a warm feeling to her chest, but the feeling quickly soured as she realized Deanna and Ken Rowland had probably moved here for similar reasons.

  She parked in front of their white colonial-style house and rang the doorbell. Within seconds, the door flung open and two hopeful faces stared out at her. Ken and Deanna Rowland were stoop-shouldered and disheveled, but she could see determination in their eyes. Deanna, as if afraid to speak, invited her inside with a wave of her hand.

  She followed the couple into their house, walking past a foyer to a family room. There were toys strewn on the carpet. For a moment, Jessie wondered if the couple had more than one child. But the silence of the house told her that was probably not the case. More likely, the couple had not found the strength to clean up their son’s belongings. Jessie felt emotion rise in her chest again. She forced herself to breathe. She was here to help these people, she reminded herself, and she could only do that if she remained professional.

  “Thank you for seeing me on short notice,” she said.

  Deanna gestured for Jessie to sit on the couch, then sat down herself. She folded her hands in her lap and leaned forward. She looked frail and tentative. Her husband did not sit down. He paced back and forth in front of sliding glass doors facing the backyard.

  “I’m sorry,” Deanna Rowland said. “It’s still hard for us to talk about Sam. That’s why you said you wanted to see us, right? To talk to us about our case?”

  “Yes. I’m an assistant district attorney with the Philadelphia DA’s Office.”

  “Are you thinking about bringing criminal charges against that horrible company?” Ken Rowland said. There was a sudden energy in his voice that belied his slumped appearance.

  Jessie shifted uneasily on the couch. “Actually, I’m here because I need to tell you some bad news. Your lawyer, Kelly Lee, died last night. She was in a car accident.”

  Deanna Rowland’s hand flew to her mouth. Across the room, her husband stopped pacing, turned, and gaped at Jessie. “What?”

  “Oh my God,” Deanna Rowland said. “Oh no. Dear God.”

  “Why are you here to tell us?” Ken Rowland said. “Why you, an assistant DA?”

  “I was Kelly’s friend.”

  “Is that the only reason?” he said. “Do you think there could have been … what’s the word … foul play?”

  “What are you talking about, Ken?” Deanna Rowland said. But by the way the color drained from her face, Jessie suspected she understood exactly what her husband was suggesting.

  “Do you think that’s a realistic possibility?” Jessie said, turning the question around.

  Ken Rowland did not hesitate. “Definitely.”

  “The AID—that’s the Accident Investigation Division of the Philadelphia Police Department—didn’t find anything suspicious at the scene,” Jessie said.

  “That company, and that man, Douglas Shaw—they have no morals.” Ken Rowland crossed the room to stand near Jessie and his wife. “Do you know that they tried to pay us off? They offered us money to abandon the lawsuit. Of course, we would’ve had to agree to a nondisclosure agreement. They don’t want anyone to know their toys kill children.”

  “They must have issued a recall,” Jessie said.

  “A recall?” Ken Rowland snorted a laugh. “No. All they did was stop selling the toys, and they issued a press release claiming a supply shortage. They denied everything about the toys being dangerous. That’s how immoral these people are. They don’t care about human life. They’re scum.”

  Jessie let him talk, and hoped doing so had some therapeutic value. As a prosecutor who dealt with victims and their families on a regular basis, she had learned over the years to be not only a lawyer, but a kind of therapist as well. She did not try to counsel people—there were social workers and victims’ advocates who performed that role better than she could—but she tried to be a good listener, to let them know she cared.

  “I hear what you’re saying,” she said, choosing her words with care. “But you have to remember corporations aren’t people. They always try to minimize costs and maximize profits. From what I understand, settling with a litigant and demanding secrecy as part of the settlement isn’t unusual. I’m not sure it’s evidence of murderous intent.”

  “Kelly was afraid,” Deanna Rowland said. “You claim you were her friend. Did she tell you she was afraid that someone was following her?”

  “Yes.” Thinking about their conversation in the criminal courthouse brought Jessie a fresh twinge o
f regret. “That’s part of the reason I’m here. I want to make sure her concerns are looked into and taken seriously.”

  “You seem like a good person,” Deanna Rowland said. “Were you and Kelly close?”

  “We were friends in law school. We drifted apart after that. I wish we had stayed closer.” Jessie pushed away the thought. “What about you? Has anyone threatened you?”

  Deanna Rowland took a deep breath. “Not exactly. I mean, we never felt like anyone was following us. But when we rejected their settlement offer, they were angry. They told Kelly we would never win, and that they would bury us in legal fees before we even had a chance. They said we were making a huge mistake we would regret for the rest of our lives.”

  Ken Rowland sat down next to his wife and put his arm around her. “Deanna and I knew the only thing we would regret would be not going forward with the trial, not fighting for Sam. That’s why we told them to take their hush money and shove it.”

  “If Kelly’s dead, what happens to our case?” Deanna Rowland asked. “Who will be our lawyer now?”

  “I’m not sure,” Jessie said. “One of the reasons I’m here, actually, is to ask you to give Kelly’s assistant permission to share your file with me.”

  “Are you going to take over our case?” Deanna Rowland said, her voice hopeful.

  “No. As a prosecutor, I can’t do that.”

  “Then why do you want access to our file?” Ken Rowland said.

  “I want to see if there’s anything in it that would shed light on Kelly’s death.”

  Ken and Deanna exchanged a glance. “We’ll give you access,” Ken Rowland said, “but only if you promise us that you’ll find us another lawyer—someone good—to handle our case.”

  Jessie hesitated. She knew Kelly Lee was a sole practitioner who had no partners or other lawyers working with her, but she had not anticipated the Rowlands asking her to find substitute counsel. She considered whether this was a promise she should commit to. Getting even more involved in Kelly Lee’s affairs seemed like a bad idea given the pressure she was under to stay away, but the thought of the Rowlands’ case being abandoned—or mishandled—was worse. Also, agreeing to their request might be her only way to get access to their file.