The rest of the details, of course, I was still going to have to put together. But I had to make sure that Shawn would be safe first, and that meant going into battle for him. I’d tried to tell myself that my interest was purely professional; that Shawn was my client, just as his father was, and that I’d have done the same thing for anyone who had run into similar problems. But as I was trying to get to sleep the night before, curled up on the couch in the living room of Shawn’s off-grid apartment, I had an honest moment. I didn’t just want to tackle this, or go after the people in question, because of the fact that it was a legal issue, or even the fact that my personal sense of justice was offended by the conspiracy clearly going on. Despite how much I’d insisted that I wanted nothing to do with Shawn, there was still something in me about him, some kind of tingle of feeling.
I’d remembered the time, seemingly ages ago, but really only days back when Shawn and I had gotten attacked outside of his townhouse, and we both had to hold our own against the people attacking us. Even beyond the sex we’d had after that, it had stirred something in me. It had felt like a connection, like we were in sync again. I couldn’t ignore that.
“How can I help you?” The receptionist for the district attorney was a bottle blonde woman, maybe twenty years older than me, with the beginnings of crow’s feet forming around the corners of her eyes. I could see the telltale signs that she was battling the advance of age with some Botox and other maneuvers. In her head, I was sure, she’d never grown older than her thirties.
“I need to speak with District Attorney Clemmons,” I said firmly, but keeping as pleasant an expression on my face as possible.
“Do you have an appointment with him?” I shook my head.
“No, I don’t. But I need to speak with him right now, and it’s an issue that he is going to want to talk to me about,” I said. “You can tell him that it’s Cynthia Evers to see him.” I had to hope that I was sufficiently well-known that Clemmons would agree to meet with me, regardless of whether or not he was involved in the plot. The receptionist gave me a dubious look.
“Let me just ask him,” she said, giving me a fake-pleasant smile. I nodded and stepped aside, turning away from her to give her the small amount of privacy she would need to make the quick call into his office.
I knew what I knew, and what I had evidence of. I had to think that I had what it took to get through the situation even if I felt exhausted. After all, I did have a handful of years of facing down prosecutors in court. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a breath. I could do this.
“Ms. Evers? The district attorney will see you,” the receptionist said. I opened my eyes and turned around to face her, smiling my most pleasant smile.
“Thank you very much,” I said, and breezed past her to head in the direction of the big man’s office. I had spoken to him on more than one occasion as a major defense attorney. I was definitely someone who would have contacts with people like Clemmons. But I’d only met with him in his office a handful of times over the years, just enough to know how to get there, but not enough to really feel comfortable with the walk down the hall from the lobby to go and see him.
I knocked briefly and gripped my paperwork a little tighter, tense while waiting for him to call out for me to come in. “Ms. Evers,” he said, as I entered. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“I want to discuss two cases with you,” I said. “The Shawn Peterson Senior case and the Shawn Peterson Junior case.”
“Father and son defense jobs; you are definitely getting the best billing these days,” Clemmons said. He was about Shawn’s father’s age, maybe a few years younger, with salt-and-pepper hair and a clean, sleek look to him that I’d come to expect from public officials. I closed the door behind me and seated myself. I had to be supremely confident, and up to a point, I was extremely confident. It was just going to take scaring the man with the information that I had.
“Before I start this discussion, I need you to know a few things, Mr. District Attorney,” I said. “First, the files I am going to show you are also contained off-site, on an encrypted, cloud-based server. So if they disappear in physical form, there is another copy. Those files are set to be released to several major press outlets if I do not input a password within the next five hours.”
“This sounds serious indeed,” Clemmons said, sitting down opposite me. “What exactly are these files you’re speaking of?”
“They’re files regarding the wrongful charges against the two men in question,” I said.
“Wrongful charges?” Clemmons raised an eyebrow.
“I have documentation that demonstrates that both men, first Peterson Senior and then Junior, were framed for felony crimes, both local and federal,” I said. I kept my voice level neutral and matter-of-fact. “I think upon reviewing it, you will see that it is more than enough to create reasonable doubt in a jury.” I opened the file and extended it to the man.
I knew what I had; the first several pieces of evidence I’d put together for him to review were the “mildest” content, featuring the proof that Nathan had managed to come up with that the file transfers and other transactions, that had been attributed to Shawn’s father, were actually done by someone else. It also contained the separate IP address, which was nowhere near any properties that Peterson owned, along with time stamps showing that Peterson had been in the city, hours away, at the time they were done. There were also statements I had gotten from a few of the low-level people involved in the case, including Dana’s people who had been hired to come after me and Shawn and drive us into hiding.
“This is enormous information,” Clemmons said, looking up from the first few pages.
“It is,” I agreed. “I am sure that it would seem odd indeed that the police department, federal investigators, and your office, didn’t do this level of investigation yourselves.” I held Clemmons’ gaze. “I feel like that might be humiliating for you.” Clemmons’ eyes widened and I watched his face flush red for a few moments before he regained his composure.
“Is that all you wanted to say to me, Ms. Evers?” I shook my head slowly.
“I have other information as well,” I said. “You’ll find it further back in the brief. Through some assistance from a tech-savvy friend, I was able to discover that there were several people in your office, who work under your direct supervision, who were involved in knowingly fabricating charges against both, Shawn Peterson Senior and Shawn Peterson Junior.” I paused a moment to let him take that fact in.
“You have proof of fabrication?” I nodded.
“I have, in the paperwork here, the request for the public records; namely emails between employees in your office made on their government-issued devices, implicating them in the intentional fabrication of felony and federal charges against the two men,” I said.
“That kind of paperwork takes time to execute,” Clemmons pointed out.
“I was able to retrieve unofficial copies,” I said, with a smile. “Of course, I’m sure that if such records were to suddenly disappear, that would also be rather humiliating for you.”
“So what you’re saying is that people in my office have engaged in malfeasance in their positions, and abuse of authority,” Clemmons said. I smiled more broadly.
“I did also find evidence that said members of your staff were paid handsomely for their help in bringing about false charges against my two clients,” I said.
“And I assume that you’ll be filing to get official documentation from the banks on that account, too?” I nodded again.
“My initial findings in this defense investigation do not make for a very good trial outcome for you,” I said. “I suspect what’s more relevant to you is the fact that I do not think that people will believe that employees so close to you could be involved in something like this without your awareness.”
Clemmons’ face went red again and I resisted the urge to laugh at him.
“Are you threatening me, Ms. Evers?�
� I shook my head.
“I am only observing, Mr. Clemmons, that evidence could be construed to implicate you at this point, and of course if I do have to go on in my investigation, I would be forced to make records, requests and subpoenas regarding your possible involvement in this, which…” I shrugged, “…that is the sort of thing that ends careers.”
“What do you expect from me?” Clemmons had himself under control for the moment. I immediately thought that if he wasn’t involved, he was going to work hard to distance himself from those who were as soon as I left his office. Of course, given how far the tendrils of this particular conspiracy went, we wouldn’t be out of the woods yet. But it was a major step forward.
“I will be happy to leave this file with you. As I said, I have backups,” I said. “What I am looking for is dismissal of all the charges you brought against Shawn Peterson Senior as well as Junior, along with approval of the immediate release of Shawn Junior.”
“There’s only so much I can do,” Clemmons protested. “The charges against Junior go up to the Federal level.”
“I am aware of that,” I said. “You will submit your recommendation that Shawn Junior be allowed to bail out of Federal detention. And you will drop all the charges you can drop against him in light of this evidence.” Clemmons held my gaze for a long moment and I thought that if he was involved, he was assessing the risks of being implicated, considering what I’d first said about having the information ready to go to multiple press outlets if nothing happened within the next several hours.
“You have a deal, Ms. Evers,” he said, rising up and offering me his hand.
“Thank you,” I said, getting to my feet as well and accepting the handshake. “I will hope that you will notify me when you have taken the appropriate steps.”
“I will be happy to,” Clemmons said. “Have a nice rest of the day.”
“I will,” I said, nodding to him and letting go of his hand, before turning to leave the office. Relief washed through me; Shawn would get out of the detention center and we’d be together again, as safe as we could get before the trial for whatever charges are left.
Chapter Eighteen
The sight of Cynthia looking tired but unharmed, waiting for me as I stepped out of the holding area in my street clothes and with all my possessions more or less intact, was almost too good to be true. I could feel the ache in my bones from sleeping on hard cots for several days, and the lingering ache in my ribs, from where they’d been bruised, didn’t help matters much.
“You moved fast,” I said, remembering how long it had taken for my father to be able to bail out. I’d only had to stay in PC overnight; my bail had gone through that morning, with just the paperwork to take care of. My passport was still confiscated, and an ankle monitor was attached to me to make sure I didn’t flee before my federal trial.
“I even got all the charges from the DA’s office dropped,” Cynthia said with a little smile. I stared at her in shock.
“All of them?” I waved my ankle slightly in her direction.
“Those are the federal ones,” she said. “The fed-level charges against your father are also still there, but with you out of the center, and the DA dropping the major charges, we should be a bit safer.”
We walked out of the building together and I had to resist the urge to hug her. It had been bubbling up in me off and on for the past few days, and overnight I’d woken up, more than once, still caught up in dreams about Cynthia. They were mostly memories of our first few times together, interspersed with the most recent time we’d had sex, a little more than maybe a week before. Everything had happened so fast, it was hard to believe that it had been less than a month since I’d gone to Cynthia about my father’s case.
“What the hell did you do?” We started towards the street and I found myself instinctively looking around. I figured Cynthia had been smart to have Jack waiting for her far enough that it wouldn’t be all that easy for anyone to follow us. But that would mean the two of us were in the open, on our own, for at least a couple of blocks.
“I went to the DA,” Cynthia explained, and after casting a quick look around, she told me about the whole confrontation and what she’d managed to compile. “So I still have the information poised to go to the press whenever I might need it, just in case,” she finished.
“That’s amazing,” I said, shaking my head. “Look at you, almost up there with Tom Hagan.” Cynthia chuckled and I could see how tired she was. It was more than what I’d seen when I first saw her. She clearly hadn’t gotten much sleep the previous few nights. I wanted nothing more than to get her back to the apartment and convince her to crawl into bed with me. She said she can’t sleep with you again because you’re a client, and you’re even more of a client now, I reminded myself.
“I’ll just be glad to get a few days’ peace,” she said, reaching up and smoothing her hair against her scalp.
“Yeah, we’re not out of the woods yet, are we?” Cynthia shook her head.
“Not even close,” she said. “I mean, the charges are dropped, but there are still the federal ones, and then, of course, the people involved in this.” All the relief I felt being released, started to evaporate.
“Once we can get through the federal case, we can get these people rounded up, and maybe get some revenge on the ones we can’t get rounded up,” I suggested with a little smile, in spite of how bleak I felt about the whole situation.
“I’m submitting information to the FBI about Dana, Montgomery, and the other power players in this,” Cynthia told me. “I’ve got a meeting with the Attorney General’s office in about a week. But the case will probably go slowly.”
“Probably best to start locally then, wouldn’t you say?” Cynthia considered that and nodded, and we both turned the corner. Before either of us could continue the debate on how to handle the crisis from that point forward, I caught sight of about four guys headed in our direction, coming up the sidewalk. A moment later, someone called out behind us and I glanced over my shoulder to see another three guys approaching from that direction, moving quickly.
It was a risky attempt on their part; we were out in public, not on private property or in the detention center. But, as it wasn’t the busiest part of town, there weren’t very many witnesses. “Do we run?”
“I pressed the panic button,” Cynthia said. “But Jack will need a few minutes to get to us.”
We didn’t even have time to plan anything out. The seven guys converged on us fast, and I had to go into instinctive mode yet again. Cynthia and I stood close together, back-to-back, facing off against the people who’d come to attack us. The guys took out weapons; batons, tasers and chains. They were clearly more of the run-of-the-mill hoods that Dana, or whoever else, had hired before, but I didn’t think that was going to stop them from doing their level best to kill us both, or at least subdue us and take us away to be killed elsewhere. They want it to look like a gang thing, I thought fleetingly, as the men came close enough to start actually using the weapons.
“Here,” I heard Cynthia say, and I felt something hard press into my hand. It was a can of mace.
“What about you?” We were both already starting to move and dodge, each of us trying to avoid the men attacking us.
“Got one,” she said quickly. Everything became a blur after that. I punched and kicked, and when there was a face near enough, other than Cynthia’s, I squirted mace in it, and Cynthia evidently did the same thing. My bruised ribs were the farthest thing on my mind with all the adrenaline coursing through me, but I noticed that I got more than a few other injuries as someone tried to stab me or cut me, as someone else brought a baton down on my knee, on and on.
I got one of their knives in my hand and stabbed one of the guys, landing a good injury on him. Cynthia apparently managed to get a taser from another one of our would-be attackers and used it just as liberally. Three of the guys ran away from us, but four were on the ground, writhing around from the mace stinging their
eyes, noses and throats, and the other injuries they’d sustained.
“We need to call the cops, but we need to get the hell out of here, too,” Cynthia said. I nodded and took my phone out, marveling for a second at the fact that it was perfectly intact.
I put it in anonymous mode and called 911. “I need to report a crime,” I said, as soon as the responder came on the line. “At Second and Main, there are four or five guys on the ground still. There was a group of them attacking a couple I saw walking on the sidewalk. Some of them ran.” I gave as little detail as I could while still giving enough to hopefully get the remaining guys charged, and ended the call.
By the time I finished, Jack had appeared, and Cynthia and I climbed into the back seat of the car to begin our getaway.
Chapter Nineteen
I had never been happier in my life to be anywhere than I was to walk into the apartment with Shawn, safe and sound for the first time in days. Adrenaline was still coursing through me, and I was so relieved to be with him, so relieved to be alive and unharmed, that almost without thinking, I found myself hugging him.
“You were more scared than you let on to Jack, huh?” he said.
I growled something that didn’t quite approach words, briefly irritated at Shawn’s comment. When I pulled back to tell him off for real, he turned his face towards mine and, before I could say anything, he kissed me.
For maybe half a second, or even less, I thought that I should pull away from him and put a stop to what he was doing, reminding him that we couldn’t do anything to get physically involved at all. But just as quickly as the professional impulse rose up in my mind, it immediately disappeared and I kissed him back, pressing my body against his until I felt and half-heard a muffled grunt of pain against my lips.
Redeemed: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance (Lost Love Book 1) Page 10