by A. Gorman
“And did you?” he asked.
I watched as something close to anger shifted in her gaze. She would look at the attorney when he spoke but then back to me as she answered. Rayanne was angry, I could tell. “I did, but I didn’t like it.”
“Explain that, please?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m not an accountant. I should have told them just to hire another temp, but like I’d said before, I thought of the Watsons as family. I didn’t want to let them down. I thought I would at least try to wade through their books, but in the end, I realized I was not cut out for that. I had no clue what I was doing. After about three-and-a-half weeks, I told George I couldn’t do this anymore. I was so frustrated at that point, I was prepared for them to fire me for not doing it right. And I didn’t care. I couldn’t take the stress. I am not a numbers person.”
She looked at me, and I grinned. I could tell she wanted to grin back, but just couldn’t.
“Ms. Lynch, did you see anything strange or suspicious while you were sorting out their books?”
She hesitated a beat, and I could tell that this was the million dollar question. She sucked in a deep breath and stared at me, then answered, “Yes. There was a hundred-thousand dollar wire transfer to Shane Watson from Elmo’s account on the first of September last year. At first, I paid it no mind. I had no idea why he’d give his son a hundred grand, it could be for anything. But what happened a week later was what had the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.”
“And what was that?” the attorney asked.
Now her hands wrung together. I don’t even think she knew she was doing it, but I smiled at her and nodded again as she locked eyes with me. I even mouthed, “You can do it” to her.
“Shane came barging into the office one day. The poor receptionist, Ashley, had told Shane that his dad was busy, but he’d barged into Elmo’s office anyway and slammed the door shut. Now, I sat right outside both George and Elmo’s offices and while I couldn’t hear every word, I heard a lot.
“Shane was screaming about the amount of blood on his hands not being worth a hundred grand, and how he was having nightmares after having to haul a dead body around in his car, and then I heard something about a dumpster downtown near the baseball stadium being full, and him having to dig through trash… and the body having to be at the bottom. Honestly, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d looked to Ashley to see if she had heard the same thing but when I looked up, she had her headphones plugged into her laptop and was humming away to some song.”
I couldn’t see the prosecutor’s face, but the smile in his voice said enough. “What happened when Shane exited his dad’s office?”
“He didn’t say anything more, he just stormed out, and didn’t make eye contact with me or Ashley. Elmo stood in the doorway, shot me a warning look that quite frankly scared me at the time, and shut his door.”
The prosecutor nodded. “Thank you. That will be all, Ms. Lynch.”
Rayanne exited the stand and kept her gaze on me until she reached the table, and sat back down.
“Mr. Jackson, you’re up,” the pretty judge said to the Watsons’ attorney.
Chapter 26
Rayanne
I was still shaking when I reached the prosecution’s table, but I was able to breathe once I sat back down. It took every ounce of strength I had not to turn around and look at Duke once again. Words could not explain the way my heart had soared when I’d seen him in the back of that galley. He said he was going to show and he did. If my heart hadn’t been beating so fast out of nervousness, it would have swelled with emotion. The way he’d smiled and reassured me throughout my entire testimony had been priceless. My parents had shown up, too, and I’d stolen a few glances at them, but Duke’s strong reassurance had gotten me through this. I owed him so much – and I planned to repay him… several times over. The memory of our time at the cabin and what we’d shared there made the butterflies in my stomach do an award-winning performance inside my belly and my cheeks to heat.
The day was dragging on after my testimony. They called Ashley to the stand, but she had nothing valuable for the defense, even though I could tell by the look of victory on Ernest Jackson’s face that he thought he’d won some kind of small battle by Ashley’s useless testimony. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He may have won that battle, but he was so not gonna win the war. I felt disgusted all over again that they had hired Shane to kill poor Angela Silvey – and then tried to kill me. I never really got to know Angie that well, but nobody deserved to be shot in the head and then put in a dumpster. I thought of Shane and hoped his bullet wound and infection was very, very painful.
Ernest Jackson was a longtime attorney friend of the Watsons’. I wasn’t surprised to see him defending those scumbags. I’d met him at plenty of parties and cookouts but I’d always kept my distance from him. Something about his squinty hazel eyes and bad blonde comb-over always gave me the creeps. That, and the way he’d look at every inch of my body, from my feet to the top of my head, as if he wanted to get a piece of it somehow. His cross-examination of me was coming soon, and was already giving me anxiety. I didn’t want to have to look at that scumbag piece of shit. Technically, his only crime had been defending shady characters, but deep in my soul, I knew he was a very, very bad person. Rotten to his core, and probably should share a cell with George and Elmo.
I let out an exhausted sigh when I thought about my former bosses. I was so traumatized by their actions. They had been like family to me. What kind of hopeless desperation had driven them to do this? I’d had no idea about their bogus nonprofit until I’d done their books. But why? Why the need to not pay taxes? Greed. In their shady accounting, they had tried to write off all of their lavish expenses. The dinners, the charity galas, the all-day golf trips to just screw off all day. All a big sham to try to avoid the wrath of Uncle Sam. Unfortunately for them, the IRS was now the least of their problems. They had the Department of Justice about to put them in prison. For murder.
* * *
When court was adjourned, I was escorted quickly out of the courtroom and through a side door. I caught Duke’s eyes briefly, the longing I saw in his gaze matched mine, of that I was sure. Tears pooled along my lashes. I wanted to go to him so badly, to hug him and thank him for what he’d done for me over the past couple of weeks. I knew it had been his job, and I even knew that he had been assigned me to because he’d gotten in trouble. It had explained his rudeness over the first few days of his supervision of me, or perhaps that was just his personality and he had softened around me. I think it was a combination of both. But as I locked eyes with him leaving that courtroom, I could tell he was just as desperate to speak to me as I was to him. But that would have to wait until the trial was over. I wasn’t allowed to speak to anyone. Even though the threat had been taken care of, and Shane was well and good safely in custody, there were still more threats out there.
Heaving a sad sigh, I let the agents take me back to the unmarked car. At least I could go home tonight. I prayed the jury would convict quick after tomorrow’s testimonies by the forensic accounting professionals and whoever else they were going to be calling in. I hoped that George and Elmo would be off to prison and this whole nightmare would be behind me.
I woke the next morning and repeated the protocol. I got dressed, ate, and the agents took me to the courthouse, where I was once again seated next to the federal prosecutor. Before court started, he turned to me and said, “I don’t think they’re going to call you back to the stand today, but I do need you here just in case. You don’t have to sit up here. In fact, I’m gonna have today’s witnesses at the table. You’re welcome to sit behind me in the galley.”
My face must have lit up because he gave me a small smile.
“Do I have to sit right behind you?” I asked, hopeful.
He shook his head and looked back down at his paperwork. “Nope, just stay in the courtroom. Sit next to one of the agents, though. For your
own protection, of course.”
“Thank you,” I said, getting up and going to the fourth row where Duke had sat the day before. The two agents who had escorted me sat in the fifth row so I was now in front of them.
And then I waited.
Court was set to commence in six minutes.
I tried to breathe normally and checked the clock on the boring brown wood of the courtroom’s walls and saw three minutes ‘til court started.
The jury walked in and took their seats, all of them looking refreshed from the night they obviously got to spend in their own beds.
“All rise!” the bailiff said loudly. We all stood and watched Judge Sarah Johnson walk in. She nodded and we all sat with a reverent swish of our clothing on the cloth bench seats of the galley. The entire courtroom was full. I wondered who these people were. Well, I of course recognized the Watsons’ family. Their wives looked ragged and tired, and Elmo’s wife seemed to have a perpetual tissue in her hand. I felt bad for the poor lady. I doubt she had any idea her husband and son were such bad people. I mean, how would you ever get over finding out such awful things about people you’ve known your whole life?
I startled when someone sat next to me. I gasped to see Duke. The judge had begun talking but I didn’t hear her. Duke sat still, not breaking any rules by being here. He simply looked into my eyes and smiled a little then looked back to the judge. As she continued to recap yesterday’s events, Duke reached over and grabbed my hand, resting our hands between us on the bench. He wasn’t sitting close enough to put it on his lap but we were far enough apart that anyone, besides those sitting right next to me, wouldn’t be able to tell we were holding hands. Just that simple touch sent a rush of tingling warmth through me. I suddenly felt like everything would be okay.
The day had been long. They called up government employed forensic accountants, they called up fingerprint experts to testify on the weapon retrieved from Shane for fingerprints, and they called up forensic psychologists to testify as to the nature of Elmo and his son.
In a surprising twist, George was continuing to maintain his innocence about the knowledge that Elmo and Shane had collaborated on the murder of Angela. I’d known these men five years, and when George got up to testify – against the advice of his attorney – I had to say I sort of believed it. In his eyes he looked haunted and exhausted. He literally looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown. He also claimed he knew nothing about the false accounting, but I wasn’t quite sure I believed him on that one. I think they knew what they were doing, but as the trial went on, I grew to believe more and more that Elmo had orchestrated this whole thing, and had elicited the help of his bonehead son. That kid had always been trouble. He barely graduated high school, and that was only because Ernest Jackson and a bunch of money had gotten him released early on bail from his second DUI charge to attend his own high school graduation. The kid was a perpetual screw-up. I never had much hope for him anyway, so I really shouldn’t have been that shocked when I saw him a few days ago hitting poor Agent Morris over the head while trying to kidnap – or kill me.
I hated him all over again. Duke must have felt me tense, because he stole a brief glance at me and squeezed my hand tight. I relaxed again. I wasn’t in danger.
Chapter 27
Duke
During some particularly boring testimony, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Man, I was so happy to have my phone back. I inconspicuously read a text sent by my boss: Get your ass back here. Shane Watson’s escaped custody.
All the blood drained from my face and I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me. Are they fucking kidding me.
I turned around as discreetly as I could to the other agents sitting behind me to see they were both looking at their phones. They looked at me and had the same sick, haunted look I knew I wore. Rayanne was trying to remain facing front but she eventually relented and looked at me questioningly.
“I have to go,” I whispered, hoping she heard me. I was relieved when she gave me a brief nod and reluctantly let go of my hand. I didn’t want to let go. I wanted to stay there with her and tell the other agents to get to the hospital. I wanted to tell them that I could protect her better than they could. But everyone knew that wasn’t exactly the truth. I’d let her down, even if she was technically safe and alive. The guilt of being made by Shane and me not shaking down my car to find the tracking device would forever haunt me.
I bid her a sad goodbye with my eyes and I quietly left the courtroom. As I was getting into my car, I got another text from my boss to meet him instead at Tampa General Hospital and to prepare for a hell of a long day.
* * *
Tampa PD, along with everyone and their mother’s brother, were at the hospital when I arrived. I parked in front on the street and jogged inside. There was yellow police tape blocking off one of the elevators. I was greeted by Jeffrey and my brother, Mason, and his cocky Ken-doll partner, Hunter Jenkins. I really didn’t care for the guy but I never really let on. Just something about the way he smiled made me want to fold his teeth back.
“What do we have?” I asked to anyone who would answer.
My boss looked at my brother. “Go ahead, Detective Oliver, since you got here first.”
“It’ll be easier to show you,” he began, holding his hand out to Detective Jenkins who handed him an iPad looking thing. He pointed at the screen and began narrating. “About 9:30 this morning, an unknown male walked in claiming he was here to visit one of the patients on the trauma ward. The fucker had flowers and everything. You can see here where he dumps the flowers into a trash can after exiting the elevators. He then walked a short ways down the hallway and his perfect opportunity in the form of an orderly in green scrubs was unlocking a door.” I grimaced as I watched the poor dude get pushed into the closet and the door closing behind them. “You can see him emerge a couple minutes later wearing the scrubs. The orderly was unconscious in the mop closet, waking with a headache in nothing but his drawers.”
Hunter laughed and I ignored him.
“The unknown male then goes down the hallway and enters a closet with the aid of the keys he stole from the orderly, and retrieves a stethoscope and one of the electronic thingies they use to take notes in. We confirmed those things require a password and thumbprint to get into, so I’m sure it was just for show.”
I shook my head. “He looks too stupid to know how to use it anyway. In fact, he looks stupid in those scrubs.”
Hunter laughed again, and Mason snickered. “I agree.” He swiped the screen and moved to the next video. “Here he is entering the suspect’s room. The guards questioned him briefly but he flashed the orderly’s ID at them and they just waved him in.”
“How the fuck did he get out?” I mumbled.
My boss said, “Oh just wait ‘til you see this shit.”
“If you look at the timestamp, you can see he was in there quite a while. We think he was trying to figure out how he was going to move Watkins with all that medical shit attached to him, and was probably removing his cuffs, too.”
I watched as the male pushed Shane out on the wheeled bed. I noticed the bars to the bed weren’t propped up, like they usually do when moving a patient in one of those bulky medical beds.
“Here, he has a brief conversation with the guarding police officers, and when we interviewed them, they said the male had told them the patient was being taken for x-rays.”
I was getting angry, gritting my teeth together as I spoke. “Okaayyy, so why didn’t one of the cops go with him?”
Mason chuckled and put his hand on my shoulder. “Brother, calm down, one did. Unfortunately,” he stopped, clicking to the next video and hitting play with his finger, “he did not come back up. The radiology department is on the first floor, so after about an hour when they didn’t return, the other cop radioed to his partner and got no response. Seeing no need to guard the room at the moment, he asked one of the nurses where radiology was and went down there but they weren’t
there. He called it in.” Mason switched to a video of what looked like an alley. “There’s the cop there, running out with his gun drawn, but he was ambushed and knocked out cold. We do not have video of the vehicle that took the suspects away, as there are no more cameras back there.”
I shook my head. “Cop okay?”
“Yes,” Hunter answered. “He’s in the same condition as the orderly. Both are being observed for head trauma but will otherwise recover.”
“Fucking bastards,” I murmured.
Mason nodded. “I agree.”
Jeffrey said, “Ok it’s time for interviews. Duke, you take the nursing staff on that floor. I’m gonna go talk to hospital security and then to the unharmed cop and see if he remembers anything else. Where you boys headed?” He looked at Mason and Hunter.
“Since you guys are here, we’re gonna head out and do our paperwork. There’s obviously an APB out on Watson and the suspect. Your witness still under protection? Jeffrey here filled me in on what you’d been up to the last couple weeks.” Mason looked at me.
Nodding, I said, “Yes, she’s got agents with her until the trial is over.”
“Good.” He shot me a look I couldn’t quite decipher, but definitely meant we’ll talk later, and then left me with a fist bump.
I took the stairs to the third floor where the trauma unit was and went to the nurse’s station. I pulled out my brand new FBI credentials they’d issued me the day before said to a cute nurse sitting at the desk, “I’m Special Agent Hawthorne. Were you here this morning for the incident?”
The girl nodded and stood, “Yes.”
“Great, can I speak to you for a few minutes?”
“Sure. I’m due for rounds in about five, so we’ll have to make it quick.”
She was a tiny little thing with short black hair with some color streaks in it. I could see a few tattoos under her pink scrubs and a few piercings in her ears and a tiny one in her nose. Her badge read Adria.