by Sharon Sala
Caine shrugged, as if to say this part was out of his hands. “We can’t. If there’s no conviction for Lorena Pappas’s murder, our deal with the witness goes south. Justice for the dead woman nets justice for the country.”
“How do you expect us to make that stick? You know as well as I do that a good lawyer can take the DNA we found and come up with any number of reasons as to how it got there. And there’s still no plausible explanation for why he’d want her dead. They seemed to have a good relationship.”
Caine glanced at Ames, who hesitated, then gave him a nod.
Caine continued to explain. “Seemed is the operative word here. There’s something we know about Lorena Pappas that you don’t. She learned he’d brought their son into the organization, something he’d promised her years ago that he would never do. When she found out, she was shocked, hurt, then furious. So angry, in fact, that she agreed to testify against him, even with the understanding that her son would be indicted, too, to get even for what he’d done. We think he found out about it, and that was his motive for murder.”
“You think? Damn it, Caine. You know as well as I do that won’t fly. Without the witness—”
Ames interrupted. “Just file the damn charges and bring him to trial. You’ll have your witness. But if I hear one word of what we’ve said here today from anyone else’s lips, then I’ll know you talked. And if that happens, I’ll kill you myself.”
Caine looked startled.
Tatum was furious. “How dare you threaten my life?”
Ames slapped the desk. “I dare because someone in your organization was feeding info to Ike Pappas and nearly got the witness killed. Yes, I know we had the same problem, but I’ve made it my personal business to make sure I’m the only one in the FBI who knows anything about her now, and I’m damn sure not talking. For all I know it was you who leaked the info about her in the first place. I didn’t want to come to you with any of this, but Mr. Caine was presented with a deal he wouldn’t refuse, only it’s tricky, and that leaves me following orders, which are to inform you that you still have a witness. Leave her name on the records so the defense can’t say we pulled a fast one and slipped in a witness they didn’t know about. Don’t worry. They won’t argue, because they think they know something we don’t. Now file your damned charges, and file them fast.”
Ike was getting out of the shower when he heard a loud, constant knocking at his bedroom door. He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist as he strode to the door.
“Damn it, Beatrice, can’t a man—”
It wasn’t Beatrice. It was the LAPD.
“Get dressed, Pappas,” the detective said, as he grabbed the towel from around Ike’s waist and walked him back into the room with four other officers following.
“What the hell’s going on?” Ike yelled. “You have no right to—”
“Ike Pappas, you’re under arrest for the murder of Lorena Pappas. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against—”
Ike’s thoughts were in free fall. What the hell was happening here? There was no way this charge would stick. Not now, with Beth Venable dead.
“I thought the FBI was in charge of that case,” he said.
“They gave it back,” the detective said. “Lucky us. Now get some clothes on or we’ll take you in as is.”
Ike was furious as he yanked on clothes. He was about to put his cell phone in his pocket when the detective took it out of his hands.
“You get one call after you’re booked. You can call your lawyer from jail, just like everyone else.”
Ryal had been home for nearly three days and still woke up with a sense of wonder that he was alive and Beth was sleeping at his side. The worst of his concussion had passed, leaving him with little more than a lingering headache. The stitches in his head were sore but healing, as were the multitude of bruises on his back and legs caused by the falling debris.
He was still under doctor’s orders to take it easy, so he was on forced hiatus from the woodworking shop, even though it felt so good to be home. Beth was a quiet but persistent presence in the house. Callaway had called her that morning to inform them that Ike Pappas was in custody. It was the best news they’d had in days.
Something had changed in her after the explosion, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. She didn’t cry as much anymore, and she seemed more at peace with what still lay ahead.
At her insistence, Quinn had come home with them, too, and was sleeping in Ryal’s extra bedroom.
He’d let her believe he was there because he needed to be babied until his leg healed, but in truth he had no intention of moving out until the trial, which was scheduled to begin in two weeks, was over. Even if Pappas had finally been arrested, that didn’t mean all was well.
Ryal’s family, as well as the Venables, made all kinds of excuses to stop by and check on the men, but it was evident every time they came that a good portion of their concern was for Beth.
All of the Venable cousins she used to play with as a child had come together, and officially welcomed her back with open arms and a vow of secrecy as to where she was that she knew they would not break. He could tell that it had been a life-altering moment she wouldn’t forget.
But he also knew that her entire focus was on the approaching trial, where she would soon come face-to-face with the man who’d tried so hard to kill her.
Twenty-One
The Criminal Justice Courthouse in L.A. was the site of a media frenzy. Not since the O. J. Simpson trial had so many news crews been in one place at one time. Yesterday had been opening statements in the Ike Pappas murder trial. When all the talk was over and the lawyers had played all the games possible with the laws of the land, Ike would face a jury of his peers for the murder of his ex-wife.
Cameras were not allowed in the courtroom, which was good news as far as Beth was concerned. She’d arrived in Los Angeles last night after dark and had been taken to the courthouse the next morning, then sequestered in a small room near the courtroom with four federal agents as guards.
But it wasn’t the presence of the agents that gave her a sense of security. That was thanks to Ryal and Quinn and Uncle Will, who were gathered around her. Those were the men who’d already proven their worth and devotion.
Quinn’s leg was healed, except for a faint limp when he was tired, and Ryal would bear a scar on the back of his head for the rest of his life.
The moment Will had learned she’d been attacked on Rebel Ridge, he’d driven back to Kentucky, parked his semi down in Boone’s Gap and come home to stay with his mother, Lou, and be nearby in case Beth was in need.
Like the Walker brothers, Will’s life had been put on hold for Beth until this trial was over and they knew for certain she would finally be safe.
Ryal kept watching Beth’s face, looking for signs of an emotional breakdown, but she seemed calm. Almost too calm. He put his arm around her and pulled her close.
“How are you feeling, honey?”
“I’m okay. I’m ready for this to be over, though.”
“We will be right there in the room with you when you’re testifying,” Will said. “The prosecution allowed your request that we come in with you and take seats he’s providing at the back of the room.”
“Good. I want to know my cheering section is nearby.”
Ryal’s eyes narrowed. “I feel like more than your cheering section. I’m still locked in protection mode. What I wouldn’t give to get my hands around that son of a bitch Pappas’s neck and give it a quick twist.”
Quinn smiled briefly. “Dang, brother. That sounds like something I would have said.” He winked at Beth. “You’ve turned him into a real butt-buster.”
Ryal snorted softly.
Beth grinned.
And then the door opened and a bailiff stepped into the room. “Beth Venable?”
“I’m here,” she said.
“They’re ready for you, ma’am.”
Assistant D.A. Benton Frame represented the prosecution and he was ready to get the show started. He knew what he was about to do was going to start a verbal riot, but he was prepared.
He stood and addressed the court. “Your Honor, we call our first witness, Lilabeth Venable, to the stand.”
The doors at the back of the room swung inward. Two federal agents walked in, then stepped aside, leaving the aisle open as Will and Quinn entered, then moved off to their seats at the back of the room. Ryal walked in beside Beth and then joined her family, leaving the other two federal agents to follow her down the aisle.
As soon as she reached the stand to be sworn in, they took positions against the walls near the front of the courtroom. The judge was well aware of what it had taken to ensure this woman’s presence in the courtroom today and was bending some of his normal rules by even letting this showy arrival occur.
Ike’s heart had stopped the minute he’d heard her name, and he leaned in head to head with his lawyer, Sal Moreno.
The minute she was sworn in and took a seat, Moreno stood up.
“Your Honor, I object! We had no knowledge of—”
Frame was waiting for that. “On the contrary, Your Honor. Her name has always been on the witness list.”
“But we thought—” Moreno stopped without finishing the sentence, but he’d introduced the notion.
“Thought what? That she was dead?” Frame fired back. “That’s what your client intended to happen when he put a hit out on her life. That’s what he thought had finally happened when he blew up the house she was in!”
The judge was pounding his gavel sharply against his desk.
“Order in the court! I will have order in the court! Gentlemen, approach the bench. Now.”
Moreno glanced over his shoulder at Ike, who was visibly pale. His mind was racing as he began sorting through his options before this trial went any further.
As soon as they reached the bench, the judge covered the microphone and leaned over.
“Mr. Moreno, was the witness’s name on the list provided by the prosecution?”
“Yes, Your Honor, but—”
The judge stopped him with a look.
“Mr. Frame, do you have any other surprises up your sleeve of which the defense is unaware?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Then we will proceed. Return to your tables. Mr. Frame, you may begin questioning.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Frame said, and then walked over to the witness box where Beth was sitting.
This was the first time he’d seen or spoken to Beth Venable, and his whole case hinged upon whether or not she fingered Pappas. He was ticked about the rules he’d been given by the federal prosecutor’s office. After all, it was his career that would tank, not theirs, if Beth Venable got scared and reneged on what she claimed to have seen.
Then he looked into her eyes, and what he saw reassured him as he took a deep breath and began the routine of establishing name, location, why she’d been there and the time at which she’d witnessed the crime.
Beth answered each question with a clear voice and a calm demeanor, but he knew she was nervous because her hands were shaking in her lap. That was when his estimation of her fortitude hitched up another notch.
“Now to the question on everyone’s mind,” Frame said. “Miss Venable, do you recognize anyone in the courtroom as the person you saw murder Lorena Pappas?”
Beth turned her head. It was the first time she’d allowed herself to look at the man sitting at the defense table, but she recognized him instantly. There was a moment when their eyes met, and she saw the fire and anger on Ike Pappas’s face. Even now he was trying to intimidate her into changing her story.
She looked back at Benton Frame and then answered. “Yes, I do.” She pointed at Ike. “It’s the bald-headed man sitting beside the defense attorney.”
“Are you referring to Ike Pappas, the man on trial?”
“Yes. I saw them fighting. I saw her slap him. I saw him shove her back. She yelled, and then he slit her throat so fast I didn’t know what had happened until I saw the arterial blood spray hit the window.”
The room erupted into shouting and arguing, and the guards started escorting people out of the room, while one federal agent took a stance beside the judge and another by her.
All the while Ike sat silently, his stare fixed on Beth’s face.
Then, all of a sudden, she turned and faced him again, and lifted her chin, as if to say, I beat you after all.
It was Ike who finally looked away.
That night Ryal made love to Beth in the Wilshire Hotel while sirens sounded and horns honked and lights were flashing from the streets down below.
It was the kind of slow, gentle sex that comes from familiarity—a bonding that had little to do with passion and more to do with gratitude for still being alive.
When it was over, Beth refused to turn him loose, wrapping her arms around Ryal’s neck. “I love you, my sweet man. Rest well. Tomorrow will be the first day of the rest of our lives.”
Ryal kissed the hollow at the base of her throat. “Ah, Bethie, I love you, too. You always did take my breath away.”
“I want to go home tomorrow.”
“Home as in your apartment here in L.A.?”
“No. Home as in Rebel Ridge—with you. I’ve already hired a moving company to pack up my things and ship them to Kentucky. My landlord let me out of my lease, and I’m sure I have the FBI to thank for that.After the quiet nights of our mountain home, I feel assaulted by all this noise.”
“You feel assaulted? I feel like I’m living in the middle of a Star Wars movie. I don’t know how in hell people live and sleep in this mess, but I’m forever grateful I do not.”
Beth held him tighter, pulled him closer, remembering when she thought he’d died protecting her from the blast.
Ryal propped himself up on his elbow. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Life isn’t fancy where we come from. Life is hard. Money is even harder to come by.”
Beth put a finger on his lips, as if to hush his concerns. “Life couldn’t have been any harder here, and money isn’t everything. I have my work. You have yours. We’ll be fine.”
“Then all we have to do when we get back is plan a wedding.”
“Pretty much,” she said, and then closed her eyes. “Good night, sweet man. See you in the morning.”
Ryal fell asleep smiling.
The verdict in Ike Pappas’s trial came in early the next morning, and he was brought back to court to hear it read.
As early as it was, the room was packed. All eyes were on the door through which the judge would enter. Ike wasn’t expecting any miracles. The best Moreno could hope for was a conviction for manslaughter rather than premeditated murder.
And then the door opened.
“All rise for the Honorable Judge Collins.”
Ike became acutely aware of everything around him—the shuffling of feet as people stood, a whispered aside, the faint scream of a siren somewhere off in the distance. Someone coughed. Someone else blew their nose. It was as if time was passing in slow motion.
Then he heard the judge direct him and his lawyer to stand. A bead of sweat ran out from behind his ear and into the collar of his shirt as the foreman of the jury stood up and read the verdict aloud.
All he heard was “…find Ike Pappas guilty of first-degree murder,” and then sound ended, as if someone had turned off a switch.
Ike shuddered. He didn’t want to die behind bars.
Moments later he was handcuffed, then led by two armed policemen out of the courtroom through a side door into a hallway. So he was off to jail. The sentencing phase would be next. He was trying to figure out how that would play out when two men in suits appeared out of nowhere and took control. They introduced themselves as federal agents and waved an arrest warrant under his nose, and then one grabbed his right arm and the other grabbed his left.
“What
the hell’s going on?” Ike spluttered. “The trial is over.”
“That trial was for the murder of your ex-wife. The federal government wants a piece of your ass, too. Ike Pappas, you are under arrest for the murders of Antonio Melani, Mario Cruz, Harold White, Angus Moran, Wanda Henderson and Thomas Elliot. You are also charged with one hundred and twenty-seven counts of fraud, seven counts of interstate wiretapping, ten counts of forced prostitution, fifteen counts of illegal gambling—”
Ike felt the blood draining out of his head and for a moment thought he would faint. He stumbled, then stopped. “What the fuck’s going on here?”
The agents yanked him off balance, forcing him to keep walking as they continued to rattle off the charges against him, but he wouldn’t listen.
“You’re crazy. I don’t know what you’re talking about, and you can’t prove any—”
He caught movement from the corner of his eye and turned in time to see his son step out into the hall. He hadn’t seen him in weeks, and he didn’t immediately tie his unexpected presence to what was happening.
“Adam! Did they arrest you, too?”
“No. I won’t be arrested. That was part of the deal.”
Ike frowned. “I don’t get it. Part of what—” Then he froze. “You turned me in?”
Adam shrugged. “Just finishing what my mother started.”
Ike struggled to draw breath. “The syndicate will kill you, you know.”
“No. In fact, we’ve already had that conversation. Truth is, they’re more pissed at you than they are at me. I’d watch my back in prison if I were you.”
It was the disdain in Adam’s voice that yanked Ike out of his state of shock.
“I don’t fucking believe you!” he screamed.
Adam’s voice rose louder and higher. “Then believe this, you sorry son of a bitch! You better say your prayers and make nice with God…if you still believe in Him, that is.”
Ike felt as if his head was going to explode. He wanted to squeeze Adam’s neck until his eyes bugged out and his breath stopped.