Above Protection (Imperfect Heroes Book 1)

by C. J. Pinard

  Chapter 25

  Duke

  A feeling of déjà vu came over me as I once again found myself sitting in my boss’s small office. Jeffery had a manila folder in front of him and he studied the contents with his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. I loosened my tie with my index finger. I was going to keep my calm this time, as I knew whatever I had coming I would deserve. Resisting the urge to pull the can of dip from my jacket pocket, I sighed when I realized I didn’t even have it. I’d left it in my desk drawer so I wouldn’t be tempted to grab for it. I really did need to quit that shit.

  Jeffrey removed his glasses and set them down and looked at me.

  Attempting a smile that probably looked more like a grimace, I said, “Just give it to me, boss. I know what I have coming.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at me and said, “And what exactly do you have coming?”

  Shit. Walked right into that one. “I’ll shut up now,” I murmured.

  “Well, first off, you need to tell me how you think the suspect made you.”

  I nodded and cleared my throat. “Going into town maybe? Aside from that little piece of sh… uh, the encrypted phone Jack-N-Jill gave me,” I said, making air quotes around Jack-N-Jill, “we had zero technology. Just a TV. So I’m thinking they may have followed me in from town. I just don’t know how they found me in the middle of nowhere Virginia.”

  My boss laughed and I tilted my head in confusion. “Something funny?”

  He shook his head and rapped his knuckles on his desktop. “No, but I knew you’d blame yourself. You’re a hothead, Hawthorne, but one thing I tell everyone about you is that you will always own up to your sins.”

  I hung my head, defeated. I lifted my eyes back to his beady brown ones. “So I was right? They followed us back from town?”

  He was still smirking and it made me uneasy. “No. After we recovered the car from the lake, we found a small tracking device behind the right rear wheel. Watson’s kid must have put it there sometime when you were inside the vic’s condo before you left St. Pete.”

  My eyes widened. “Well fuck, I should have checked for that. I’m sorry, boss.”

  He shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t have seen it. It’s so small, it just looks like a piece of metal about the size of a bar of soap. Honestly, we hadn’t seen anything like it before. It wasn’t even destroyed by the water. Our agents were very interested to study it. They think Shane ordered it from China. It definitely isn’t anything we’re familiar with.”

  I felt slightly relieved, but still, a pang of guilt busted me in the chest. “So why did it take him eight days to find us, then?”

  “That, we don’t know. The satellite signal doesn’t seem to be very strong on the thing. The scientists aren’t sure if it’s from the water damage, or if the thing is just a cheap Chinese piece of shit.” He laughed a little, and I couldn’t help but laugh with him.

  “About the car… sorry about that. It was a last minute decision. I’m not gonna have to pay for that, am I?”

  He shook his head. “Hell no. It was drug dealer’s car we seized. Aside from changing out the plates and removing all the drugs from the secret panels, it didn’t really cost the government anything. Well, the price of pulling it out of the water wasn’t cheap, but you get the picture. Besides, if you had left it on the cliff, then jumped, we’re sure the Watson kid would have just jacked the car and then had all your personal info, including your badge.”

  He had a point. I had thought that too, but I figured if I had brought it up, Jeffrey would have thought I was giving him a copout about why I’d ruined the car. I was relieved when he mentioned it first.

  He continued, “When Shane Watson gets out of the hospital, he’ll be brought in for extensive questioning about where he got that device and why it took him so long to find you. It could be that the extreme remote location of the cabin took him a while to pinpoint, or it could be that when you finally got into town he was able to get a signal and tracked you then.”

  My mind went again to the trip into town. We’d gone twice, and he’d made us after the second. What the boss just said had made perfect sense. So in the big picture, I was to blame. I shouldn’t have let her talk me into going into town. I was glad he hadn’t asked why we’d done so, either.

  Jeffrey looked at his watch. “You better get going, I know you want to go to the trial. I’m gonna grant you some paid administrative leave to attend it.”

  I was surprised. “Wow, thanks, boss. I just wanna make sure she’s okay, ya know?”

  He shot me a suspicious look. “You not feeling all warm and fuzzy about the vic, are ya? Because you know there are rules…”

  I cut him off. “No, no warm and fuzzies,” I lied. “But she did grow on me a little. Plus I’d like to see those scumbags get what they deserve for killing that woman.”

  “I agree. See you later.” I got up and went to the door.

  “Duke.”

  I turned around, my hand on the doorjamb. “Yeah?”

  “Good job with Ms. Lynch. Despite everything, you went above and beyond to keep her safe, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?”

  I nodded and had to choke back a sudden lump in my throat.

  Making my way to the parking garage, I smiled as I got in the elevator. I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of my shoulders.

  “In the interest of justice, and in the interest of the taxpaying citizens of the Central District of Florida, we are going to be trying both George Watson and Elmo Watson on two counts of Murder-For-Hire and one count of Failure to Pay Corporate Taxes over One Million Dollars.”

  The judge, a lady in her mid-50s with short, spiky black hair and beautiful skin the color of chocolate removed her glasses and looked at the two men and their attorney, who were the only ones in the courtroom standing.

  “The defendants plead Not Guilty, Your Honor.”

  “Very well. Let’s begin,” she said.

  My eyes went to Rayanne, who sat next to the federal prosecutor. Her back was to me, but I could tell she was nervous. She was fidgeting and when she would turn her head to listen to what the prosecutor was telling her, her eyebrows would dip and she’d chew that thumbnail of hers. Even nervous, she was sexy. She looked to be wearing some kind of dark blue suit jacket and my inappropriately perverted ass was hoping she had on a skirt under it so I could get a glimpse of her beautiful legs.

  The prosecutor got up with his opening statements and addressed a jury of 12 people sitting in the juror’s galley about how the Watson brothers had not only failed to pay their taxes over the past two years, they’d also had Angela Silvey, their temporary accountant, murdered, execution style, in her own home when she had discovered some fraud and the tax issue, and had threatened to go to the authorities with it. I shook my head. What a couple of idiots. Killing someone over taxes and some dirty accounting? Without the murder, they could have done a year or two at some club fed prison camp. Now they were facing murder charges. If convicted, they’re off to a federal penitentiary. Nobody wants to go to the pen. Nobody.

  Hours went by as each side brought in witnesses, and in my opinion, the defense was weak with theirs. Bringing some random accountant in from a temp agency did them no good. They could offer nothing.

  While the case was interesting, I pretty much watched Rayanne the whole time. I sort of swelled with pride at how she was remaining still and professional. She’d stopped fidgeting and that made me smile a little. Finally, I heard what I had been waiting for.

  “The prosecution calls Rayanne Lynch to the stand.”

  She stood up and I sucked in a breath. She sure did have a skirt on. The fitted, dark blue fabric hit her just above the knee but was still very tasteful and attractive. Her shiny heels were almost the same color as her skin. It just looked so… hot. But then again, despite my trifs with trashy chicks like Tish and others whose names I’ll never remember, I had always been a sucker for a woman in a
business suit.

  Rayanne climbed the two steps onto the stand and the minute she reached it, her eyes scanned the crowd, stopping on me. I gave her a reassuring smile and a nod, and I watched her bite back her own smile. It also didn’t go unnoticed by me that her body visibly relaxed once she saw me. I kept eye contact with her until she looked away when the federal prosecutor said her name.

  After she was sworn in all official with her hand on the Bible, the prosecutor began. “State your name for the record.”

  “Rayanne Mari Lynch.”

  “What was your position in the Watson Law Firm?” the prosecutor asked.

  “Paralegal.”

  “Ms. Lynch, how long did you work for George and Elmo Watson?”

  She looked me in the eye. While it appeared to everyone else she was looking at the young prosecutor, she was looking past him. I held her gaze and nodded slightly at her, encouraging her.

  “Five years.”

  Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap and because I knew her, I could tell she wanted to wring them in nervousness. I presumed she was probably told not to do this, but to just keep them clasped.

  The attorney continued, “And in those five years, how well did you get to know the Watsons?”

  “Very well,” she said quietly.

  “Please speak into the microphone.” A court reporter perched in front of the juror’s galley spoke to her.

  She nodded. “Sorry. I knew the Watsons very well.”

  “On a personal level, would you say?” the prosecutor continued.

  “Yes. I went to their family Christmas parties, summer barbeques, even the wedding of one of the children. I…” she broke off, still staring at me. I smiled and gave her another nod.

  “Continue please,” the prosecutor said.

  She cleared the emotion out of her voice. “I had come to think of them as family, almost.”

  “I see,” he said. “Did you ever meet Elmo’s son, Shane Watson?”

  “Objection!” the defense attorney said. “Leading.”

  The prosecutor was quick to jump in. “I am establishing relationship.”

  “Overruled,” the female judge said. “Go on.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” He directed his attention back to Rayanne. “Please answer.”

  “Yes,” she said. “A couple of times at these family functions.”

  “Thank you,” the prosecutor said. “So, in July of last year, what happened in the accounting department?”

  “Well, our accountant went out on maternity leave and they hired Angela Silvey to fill in,” Rayanne said.

  “And did Angela ever share with you anything she found in the books?”

  She shook her head. “No, nothing.”

  There was a pause as the attorney flipped through pages. “What did you think when in September, Angela Silvey just stopped showing up for work?”

  Her eyes were still locked on mine. Her intense gaze was starting to give me a bit of a chubby. I adjusted myself discreetly under my slacks.

  “I figured she didn’t want to deal with their messy books and just didn’t come back.”

  A few people in the courtroom’s galley – and the jury – chuckled, me included.

  “What do you mean by messy, Ms. Lynch?”

  She cleared her throat. “What I mean is, that after Angie just stopped showing up, George came to me one day and asked if I could sort through their books and try to get them straight enough.”

  “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 cannot 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 today, 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 coming soon 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.