A Time for Justice: A Legal Thriller (Bill Harvey Book 4)

by Peter O'Mahoney

  She tried to brush her hair. It was a frazzled mess, and she pulled hard to get the knots out of the tangled chaos.

  “May I help you?” Kate Spencer asks, almost forcing Eva to jump out of her skin.

  The woman sitting before Eva is beautiful, calm, and relaxed, and she hasn’t seen that sort of beauty in years, not unless it was on a midday soap opera.

  “I’m here…” Eva’s arms cross over her chest as she tries to continue the sentence. “I’m here to see Bill Harvey.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  She shakes her head, eyes darting everywhere.

  A caring soul, Kate stands up from behind her desk and walks into Bill’s office, quietly notifying him that he has a visitor. Feeling a little cautious, given recent events, Bill walks out to see the woman with her arms still folded across her chest, hair covering half her face, and eyes looking down.

  “Eva?”

  She looks up and attempts to smile, but her mouth cracks in the corners. It’s been years since she last tried that expression.

  “Kate, can you please make two cups of coffee?”

  “Got it.”

  Bill places a caring arm around the back of Eva Wu, leading her into his separate office. He offers her a chair at his desk, the most comfortable one, and she sits without unfolding her arms.

  “How can I help you, Eva?” He walks around his large oak desk and nods his thanks to Kate as she places two coffees down in front of him.

  “I wanted to come here and say something.” Eva brushes her frazzled hair behind her ear. “To tell you something.”

  He waits for her to continue, but she looks at the ground out of the corner of her eye, her chest heaving up and down in short breaths.

  Anxiety is not a friend that she enjoys welcoming back.

  “And what is it that you would like to say?”

  Her response is quick and sudden. “Sorry.”

  “What for?”

  She gulps. “Sorry for getting you involved in all this mess. Kevin told me what is happening, what he’s doing to you. I should have known he was planning this. I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have brought him to the hypnotherapy sessions. I thought that you could help him. I thought that the sessions could calm him down.” She is working herself up into a frenzy. “Amy and I never liked each other. I was the step-mother that she hated. She always hated me, and I hated her. We just never bonded. I didn’t like her. She took my Kevin away from me. My life away from me. I—”

  “It’s ok.” Bill holds up one hand like a stop sign, trying to stop her spinning into further disarray.

  “After Amy disappeared, Kevin was out of control. I really thought he wanted to get better. I’m so stupid. I should have known that he was going to set you up. I should have—”

  “Take a deep breath, Eva.”

  She draws a long, slow breath, filling her chest up, and then eases the air back out. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Bill lowers his tone of voice and leans forward on the desk. “You just said that you knew he was going to set me up for this?”

  “Did I?” She looks away again, desperate to avoid eye contact with another human.

  “You did, and I’m going to need you to tell a courtroom that fact.”

  “I can’t do that.” Her words are quick and panicked again. “I didn’t mean to say that. I just… I came to say I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be involved in this. It’s my fault that you’re involved.”

  “And you can sort it out if you’re willing to testify that I’m being set up.”

  “Can’t do that.” She shakes her head vigorously. “Can’t do that. He’ll kill me if I say that. Do you know how dangerous he is? He’s dangerous. He’ll kill me.”

  “We can give you protection.”

  Like an actress in a horror movie, she turns her sharp attention to Bill, eyes yellow as they glare at him. “I hate him and I want him out of my life, but I’m not going to do it publicly. He’ll have me killed if he even knew I was here.”

  “He’s about to go to prison anyway. Now is the time to do the right thing – testify that he’s setting me up.”

  Her head tilts to the right. “No.”

  Eva goes to continue talking but stops. Without talking any further, she stands up, back straighter than when she walked in. “I’m sorry that you’re involved in this setup. That’s all I came to say.”

  She marches out of the office, leaving Bill with a nervous feeling in her wake.

  Bill leans back in his chair, stunned by the admission of Eva Wu. She’s only a shell of the person that he used to know, but she gave him all that he needed for the civil case – knowledge that Kevin Wu set him up from the start.

  Chapter 11

  With files spread out on the dining table in front of them, the two men stare at the papers, hoping that an answer will leap out at them. The entire oak table is covered with different pieces of evidence provided by the plaintiff’s legal team. The weight of evidence is impressive alone.

  “Brain scans?”

  “That’s what the whole case is built around. That’s the core piece of evidence that Wu’s basing his claims on, and if I can throw doubt over their legitimacy, then I have a chance of winning. He’s claiming that the change between these scans—” Bill moves the evidence across the desk. “And these scans are the result of the hypnotherapy sessions.”

  Bill Harvey looks to the former medical specialist, Dr. Jeffery D. Lawrence, his face scrunched as he tries to work through the problem.

  “Yes, yes. I’ve seen something like this before. Meditation and hypnotherapy have been shown to have the same effect on the brain in these areas.” Dressed in clothes that make him look like Colonel Sanders, Lawrence talks with a Southern drawl, running his thumb up and down the inside of his suspenders. “These scans are very convincing.”

  Retired for the last four years, Lawrence jumps at any chance to become involved in the profession that kept him entertained for four decades. Pruning roses, calling out numbers in Bingo, and hitting a small ball over perfectly manicured grass just isn’t providing enough excitement in his twilight years.

  When Bill Harvey called for advice, Lawrence leaped at the chance. He handed his wife his wallet, told her to go shopping for the rest of the day, and refilled the coffee machine.

  Nothing makes him feel more alive than using the skills he took a lifetime to develop.

  “Kevin Wu had annual MRI and CT scans to monitor for any tumors and changes in brain activity. He has a family history of tumors and had a small tumor removed when he was twelve. He was required to have scans every year to check for any further growths or changes in behavior.”

  “There sure is a difference between the brain scan before your sessions and all the scans afterward. That sure is convincing; however, it’s highly unusual to request these tests when checking for tumors.” Lawrence looks over the scans, tapping his finger on one of the pictures. “I would be interested why the specialist would have conducted these tests in a routine tumor investigation.”

  “They’ve stated that they were monitoring for changes in activity as a precursor to the changes in the brain. They were trialing a new technique at the time, and have done it to other clients as well. It all checks out.” Bill rolls up his shirt sleeve. “Tell me, what physically happens to the brain when it enters a hypnotic state?”

  “It’s controversial, but numerous studies have shown that there are three distinct things that happen: first, a decrease of activity in the dorsal anterior cingulate; second, reduced connections between the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex and the default mode network, which includes the medial prefrontal and the posterior cingulate cortex; and third, an increase in connections between the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex and the insula.”

  “That means nothing to me.”

  “All you really need to know, young man, is that, unfortunately, these scans support his theory that he was under the influence of hypnotherapy.” He pats Bi
ll on the shoulder. “These scans demonstrate that there’s clearly a difference in his brain responses pre-hypnotherapy sessions and post-hypnotherapy sessions.”

  The two men stare at the files on the table, the afternoon sun streaming through the large window behind them, highlighting the lack of dust in the house. Although many years out of his medical profession, Lawrence can’t stop his nightly routine of spending an hour studying the latest medical developments. It keeps him going; keeps him feeling young, alive, and relevant.

  “I know that’s not the answer that you want to hear.” Lawrence shakes his head. “But it’s what the evidence shows. And I guess that’s why you called me and not another medical expert. You wanted an educated, but not employed, medical opinion before you started to build your case.”

  “No.” Bill smiles. “I wanted the best man for the job.”

  “You know how to make an old man still feel worthwhile.”

  For years, Lawrence was Bill’s go-to man for the courts, a medical professional with a wealth of knowledge and expertise. Looking like a highly-respected individual, Lawrence was the perfect front man for the battles in the courtroom.

  “But I have a different question for you.” Bill walks around the table. “Is there any way he could have unduly influenced those scans himself? Perhaps he could have changed his brain pattern to appear like this?”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “What if he deliberately influenced the scans? What if he planned the whole thing, set me up right from the start, and intentionally influenced the results? Is there any way that he could have done that?”

  Lawrence stares at the scans, then frowns. “Possibly.”

  “How?”

  “Well.” He stands up straight, both thumbs under his suspenders. “It’s possible that the brain changes are the result of taking a large dose of barbiturates, perhaps even Thiopental, just before the scans. Yes, now that I say it out loud, that would be very possible. These effects would be extremely similar to the effects of a reasonable dose of Thiopental shortly before the scans. The drug has a half-life of around three hours so it would have to be administered shortly before the scans.”

  “Perfect. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

  “But how could you prove that? Especially considering that Wu now states that he’s no longer under the influence of the hypnotherapy sessions. Look at this latest scan.” Lawrence slides a picture in front of Bill. “This one was taken three months ago. It’s back to what it was before – before the sessions.”

  “All I have to do is prove that he took drugs the morning of each of those scans.” Bill begins to close the files.

  “Sounds easier said than done, but you’re the best man for the job. Good luck.” Lawrence smiles and offers his hand to Bill. “I’m glad I could help you. I haven’t felt this alive in a while.”

  “My pleasure. Thank you, sir.” Shaking Lawrence’s hand firmly, Bill nods. “And good luck with chasing that little white ball.”

  Chapter 12

  As Bill Harvey pulls his Mercedes into the parking lot below his office building, he notices his younger sister, Ella Townsend, step out of her car parked on the street. Worried, he parks his car, steps out, and watches Ella walk towards him, down the ramp into the dim parking lot, arms folded across her chest, hair covering her face.

  “What is it?” Bill fills the gap between them. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Jonathon.” Ella looks away, her long blonde hair hiding her expression.

  “Jonathon? What’s happened to him? Is he ok?” He holds her by the arms.

  “No.” She shakes her head. “He’s taken a hit.”

  “Of what?”

  “Heroin.”

  Bill draws a long breath, then pulls his younger sister into his chest, hugging her tightly. It’s only here, in the safety of her eldest brother’s arms, that she lets the tears flow out uncontrolled.

  Their middle sibling, Jonathon Harvey, disappeared from their lives for more than two decades. Addicted to drugs at sixteen, he spent most of his life in the depths of dependence. They had searched for him, looked for any sign that he was doing ok, but it seemed he had dropped off the face of the planet.

  It was only once Jonathon was arrested for murder that he reached out to Bill to defend him. Jonathon took full responsibility for his addiction and claimed that he had been clean for twelve months. Cautiously, Bill took on the case, and they fought the charges to prove Jonathon’s innocence.

  “What’s this?” Bill points to the blood on Ella’s sleeve, but she starts crying again. “What is it, Ella? Where did this blood come from?”

  After an intense recovery, Jonathon had been clean for more than a year. Despite the two decades of addiction, he had finally broken free of his need to escape. When the brothers first met after so long apart, there was no doubt that the statement was true. There was white in Jonathon’s eyes, and his tanned skin looked healthy.

  But recovery from addiction is a long hard road, and Jonathon is finding out just how difficult it is.

  Ella pulls out of the hug and looks away from her brother’s stare. “I went to his apartment because he said he needed help. He called me at three in the morning, and I didn’t answer. I was tired. It was 3:00 am.” She sniffs.

  “It’s ok. You can tell me what happened,” Bill reassures her.

  “But he left a voicemail saying that he needed help. I listened to the message in the morning when I woke up, about 7:00, and as soon as I heard it, I tried to call him, but he didn’t answer. On the voicemail, he sounded desperate, like he really needed me. So I went around and…”

  “And what?”

  She starts to sob again.

  “It’s alright, Ella. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you now.” He wraps his arms around his youngest sibling. “But you need to tell me what happened.”

  “He had taken a hit of heroin. He was calling me because he needed help to stay away from it, and I ignored him. By the time I got there, he was on the comedown. He lashed out and…”

  “And what?” Bill’s fist clenches.

  “He hit me on the jaw. He didn’t mean it. He just lashed out. It wasn’t his fault.”

  The statement lights a fire in Bill Harvey.

  He had been through this situation before – when Jonathon was in his early twenties, already five years into his terrible addiction, he lashed out and hit their dear mother after she refused to give me more money to buy drugs.

  When he was fifteen, Jonathon was a very promising high school quarterback, the star of their small town. Scouts traveled from all around the country to watch the handsome young man throw a football around a grass field.

  But with early success comes intense pressure, and the weight of anxiety got to him.

  When he was offered a hit of heroin at a party after another football win, Jonathon thought nothing of it. It was just a bit of fun, a little experiment of youth. But rarely does a person escape heroin without some damage – and for Jonathon, it was the escapism that he needed. When he was high, he felt free of the pressure to perform, free from the pressure to be the star. His need for an extra hit grew every week, then every day, until it was the only thing he could think about.

  Before the Harvey family knew what was happening, Jonathon was already deep in enslavement to the artificial high.

  They tried everything to save him – counselors, psychologists, psychiatrists, moving towns, locking him in his room. Nothing stopped it. Nothing stopped his need for another hit, another moment of escapism. Their lives fell into a terrible cycle of addiction – the more pressure that the family put on him to quit, the more he needed to escape that pressure, the more he needed another hit. They tried their best for the boy they loved, but little did they know that the guilt and shame were only adding to the pressure.

  After years of this cycle, when Jonathon lashed out at their mother, it was the final straw. Bill saw what took place and beat his brother i
nto the ground, telling him to never return to the family.

  The words Bill said in anger were his greatest regret and his greatest heartache.

  By the time Jonathon reconnected with them, their parents had passed away – their father ate a bullet for breakfast, devastated that he couldn’t save his son from addiction, and their mother passed a year later of a heart attack.

  As a strong, hardworking family man who avoided emotions at all costs, George Harvey couldn’t handle the loss of his son. He spent a year trying to find his son again before it all became too much to handle. His failure to protect his son from drugs destroyed his notion that he was a man that could protect his family against anything.

  “It’s not your fault.” Bill hugs his sister. “None of this is your fault.”

  “He blamed me. He said I should have been there. He said he called me to try and stop him from taking the drugs, and that I didn’t help him. He said it was my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault, Ella. This is not your fault. He doesn’t mean what he said. It was the drugs talking.” Bill draws a long breath, trying to calm his anger. He doesn’t want a repeat of the incident that happened twenty years ago. He can’t lose his brother again. “I’m going to sort this out.”

  Chapter 13

  When the siblings arrive outside the Skid Row apartment, Bill has done every breathing exercise possible to try and calm his anger, but each time he looks at his sister’s swollen lip, his grip on the steering wheel grows tighter.

  He certainly doesn’t want a repeat of the incident that drove his brother away, but he’s unsure of how he will handle the confrontation. Over the years, he has learned that addicts need love and a helping hand to recover, not a punishing fist, but that doesn’t stop the raw fury from growing inside him.

  The only residence Jonathon could afford to rent is in the poorest part of L.A., an area for the broken, the desolate, and the abandoned. Homeless men and women walk the streets with a lost look in their eyes, desperate to find a way to survive another month. Skid Row is the forgotten part of the great city, the part that is brushed under the carpet, pushed away.