Buying Time

by Pamela Samuels Young

  “What’s wrong with everybody? That woman was dying. All of my clients were dying. I had no motive for killing her or anybody else.”

  “That L.A. Times article certainly implied otherwise. And I’ve heard other disturbing information about you.”

  “Like what?”

  “I didn’t call to answer your questions, Mr. Sloan. I called to deliver a message. You will not get away with this.”

  Becker hung up the telephone. His sole intent in making the call was to put the fear of God into the man. But Becker wasn’t sure he’d accomplished his goal. His initial research on Waverly Sloan made him an unlikely murderer. He was a small-time ambulance chaser who’d never made much of a splash in the legal profession. Early in his career, he had achieved a few victories at trial, but in recent years, Sloan had settled half of his cases and the rest were dismissed.

  Though Becker was presenting a calm front for Erickson’s sake, Ashley’s accusations were slowly gaining traction. The fact that they could not be proven did not matter. If the media picked up the story—true or false—Erickson would be ruined. So far, only luck had kept the story out of the media.

  Becker was trying to do everything in his power to keep a lid on the situation, but frankly, he no longer believed that he could.

  CHAPTER 52

  Angela was now paying for lounging in bed with Dre for two mornings in a row. It was after ten by the time she made it to work that morning. Now, eight hours later, she had little to show for her time.

  Rocking back in her chair, she closed her eyes as a big smile lit up her face. Lately, she was spending way too much time daydreaming about Dre. It was nice being with someone who liked to laugh and didn’t take life so seriously. He called her during the day just because and they made love morning and night.

  Cornell had not called since his confrontation with Dre earlier in the week. Angela felt guilty for calling off the wedding and blamed herself for not ending it sooner. She really wished that Cornell hadn’t found out that she was already seeing someone else. But there was nothing she could do about that now.

  Angela turned off her computer and started packing up to go home. She leaned down and retrieved her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk. When she sat back up, the blood drained from her face.

  Cornell was standing just inside the doorway, one hand behind his back.

  Oh, my God! Her first thought was that Cornell was holding a gun behind his back. Then she remembered the metal detectors at the entrance of the building. He wouldn’t have been able to sneak a gun inside the courthouse. But he could still have some other kind of weapon.

  He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  “I don’t want to talk to you.” Angela was scared out of her mind, but tried not to show it. “You need to leave. Now.”

  Cornell’s eyes were red and he looked tired, but he didn’t appear to be drunk. “What are you trying to do to me?”

  Angela had a question of her own that required an answer. “Why are you holding your hand behind your back?”

  He took several wide steps toward her.

  “Remember this?” He held a colorful wooden carving high in the air. “I bought it for you on our trip to Kenya. You left a lot of stuff behind. Like that ring that I’m still making payments on. I figured you’d at least want this.” He slammed down the carving on the corner of her desk.

  The fact that Cornell did not have a weapon did nothing to reduce Angela’s anxiety level. “Thanks, but I don’t think you should be here. I was just about to leave.”

  “Good. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “No!” She caught herself. She had to play it cool. “You don’t need to do that. Just leave, Cornell. Please.”

  “After more than three years together, we can’t even have a civil conversation?”

  “We can talk later.” She had to get him out of her office. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Oh, so now you’ll call me? I’ve been calling you since you walked out on me, but you refused to pick up. Guess you’ve been too busy screwing that thug with all the tattoos.”

  Angela took a step closer to the phone. “If you don’t leave, I’m calling security.”

  Cornell picked up the carving and crashed it down again. “What kind of head games are you trying to play with me, Angela? You embarrass me like this and expect me to just sit back and take it?”

  Angela now saw that crazed look in Cornell’s eyes again. If she could just make it to the hallway, she could alert someone.

  “I’m not trying to embarrass you. Nobody knows why we cancelled the wedding. Just tell people whatever you want and I’ll go along with it.”

  Cornell stepped around the desk, blocking her path. “You will not embarrass me.”

  Angela boldly stood her ground. “This is the last time I’m saying this. If you don’t leave, I’m calling security.”

  Cornell chuckled. “You probably couldn’t even find a security guard around this place. If I wanted to, I could strangle you before they got their lazy asses up here. Why are you so anxious to leave anyway? You have to run home and fuck that thug? Why are you lowering yourself with a guy like that?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  When she attempted to walk around him, he made a fist and punched her in the jaw.

  Angela stumbled and screamed out in pain. She made a dash for the telephone receiver, but Cornell snatched it from her and grabbed her by the neck with both hands.

  “You bitch!” he yelled, as his fingers clamped around her neck. “You will not disrespect me!”

  Angela tugged at his wrists and tried to scream, but no words came out. The harder she tried to pry his hands loose, the tighter he squeezed. She spotted the wood carving on the corner of the desk and scooped it up. She swung wildly, aiming for Cornell’s head, but the sculpture slipped from her hand.

  Fearing that she was about to die, she reached down, grabbed a handful of Cornell’s crotch and squeezed as hard as she could.

  Cornell yelped in pain and immediately released her neck, but Angela wasn’t ready to let go. He doubled over and tried to speak, but the hold she had on his groin had effectively severed his vocal chords.

  Angela finally released him and dashed for the door.

  “You bitch!” he finally sputtered.

  Angela reached the door just as it opened.

  “What’s going on in here?” It was one of the maintenance men, who had come to empty the trash. “Ma’am, are you okay?”

  Angela touched her numb face, her body still trembling.

  “Ma’am, did he hurt you? Is everything okay?”

  Cornell quickly composed himself and smiled at the man, an older African-American. “Everything is just fine,” Cornell said. “We just had a little lovers’ quarrel. I’m Judge Cornell Waters. This is my fiancé.” He pointed across the room. “There’s a picture of us right there on her desk.”

  The man glanced at the photograph, then turned to Angela for confirmation. He gently gripped Angela’s shoulder. “Are you okay, ma’am? Did he hurt you?”

  Angela could not stop shaking. She stared into Cornell’s cruel eyes. “No,” she said. “I’m . . . I’m fine.”

  “I guess I’ll be leaving, then,” Cornell said, smiling at her. “I’ll call you later tonight.”

  He walked out and the maintenance man started to leave as well.

  “No, please wait!” Angela called after him. “Can you walk me downstairs?”

  CHAPTER 53

  The report that Becker had received about Angela Evans and Zack Hargrove pissed him off. Contrary to his directive, Operation Buying Time was still up and running—just off the clock. That news had necessitated an immediate return trip to the U.S. Attorney’s Office in L.A.

  That the two AUSAs were continuing to investigate Waverly Sloan was no real surprise. They were convinced that the death of their friend and case agent was no accident and they wanted someone to pay. Normally, Becker respected peopl
e who had principles and stood by them. These days, he didn’t come across many people who were willing to risk their careers for something they believed in. If this had been a different case, their actions would have been admirable.

  They had yet to uncover any information of significance. But the fact that they were still prying around and asking about Erickson was reason for concern. His contact at the D.A.’s Office reported that Angela Evans had been calling around trying to find out if an autopsy would be performed on Claire Erickson. Zack Hargrove had even tried to interview Claire’s sister, Sophia. Thankfully, she had refused to speak to him. Not surprisingly, Ashley had met with both of them.

  He glanced at his watch. Zack Hargrove was set to join him in the conference room at the Spring Street courthouse in another ten minutes. Becker was about to put a well-orchestrated plan into action. Divide and conquer was one of the most important rules of war. If you kept your enemies busy fighting each other, they wouldn’t have the time or energy to focus on fighting you.

  When Zack walked in, he displayed the outward appearance of a cool, collected young man. But Becker detected a jittery edge underneath his designer suit.

  “This may come as a surprise to you, but I’ve been making some calls,” Becker began. “Some calls about you.” In situations like this, it was a mistake to waste time beating around the bush. It was best to go straight for the jugular. Neutralize your attacker on the first stroke. He’d learned that as a Navy SEAL.

  Zack shifted in his seat.

  “And the reports I got back contained words like relentless, bright, tenacious. Those are all the kinds of things you want in a prosecutor.” He paused, noticing that Zack had immediately warmed to the praise. “But you also want someone who knows how to follow orders.”

  Becker watched as Zack laced his fingers. No doubt to hide his nervousness.

  “From what I can tell, you fit all of those qualifications as well. That’s why Erickson and I want you to join us in Washington. We want you on our team at the Justice Department.”

  It seemed to take a few seconds for his words to register.

  “The job we have in mind is media liaison,” Becker continued. “You’d be the Attorney General’s primary contact with the media. The current person in that position isn’t an attorney. I think that’s a mistake. The Bancroft administration plans to take a strong stance on several controversial matters. I want someone who understands the law acting as our spokesperson. The job is going to take you out of the courtroom, but someone with your talent can hop back in whenever you choose with no problem. So how about it?”

  Becker already knew the guy’s answer. He’d heard that Zack was dying to be a talking head. This job was the perfect stepping stone.

  “I’m really flattered,” Zack finally uttered.

  “Does that mean you’re accepting the job?” Becker wanted to keep the pressure on. “You’re my top candidate. As you know, the Department is still trying to regroup from the Harris scandal. I can’t give you any time to mull it over. If you want the job, I need to know right now. And by the way, there’s a significant increase in pay.”

  Zack flashed a camera-ready smile. “Of course I want it.”

  Becker stood up, walked around the conference table and extended his hand. “Welcome to the team.”

  He placed an arm around Zack’s shoulders and escorted him to the elevator. “You’re going to love it in Washington. It’s an exciting city. Much more intellectual than L.A. Is there somebody special in your life?”

  “No,” Zack said, still tongue-tied.

  “Well, you’ll have your pick of nice young women in Washington.”

  As he watched the elevator doors close, a smile crept across Becker’s face. “One down, one to go.”

  Zack Hargrove was an easy fix. Angela Evans would be a much more difficult case. Based on the reports he’d received, she was hardworking, ethical and damn sharp. She wouldn’t be so quick to sell out.

  If Becker couldn’t get her off Erickson’s trail the easy way, he’d just have to play hardball.

  CHAPTER 54

  Two days after the threatening call from Lawrence Erickson’s henchman, Waverly decided that he couldn’t just sit back and wait for his situation to resolve itself. He needed a plan.

  Appealing to Vincent certainly hadn’t done him any good. Vincent had seemed more concerned about making sure he wasn’t dragged into Waverly’s mess than offering any solutions.

  Following the release of the L.A. Times story, Waverly had been ignoring the calls from Live Now. He finally decided that it was time to face them.

  “Have a seat,” said a stone-faced Cartwright, when Waverly walked into the spacious suite at the downtown Hilton Hotel. Since they didn’t maintain an office in L.A., their meetings were always held in hotels.

  “Coffee?” Cartwright asked tightly.

  Waverly eyed the mini-bar. Actually, he wanted a drink. “Sure,” he said, then walked over to a counter and poured himself a cup. “Is Bellamy joining us?”

  Just then, Bellamy, entered the room toting two files under his right arm. The CEO’s expression was even more grim than Cartwright’s.

  “We got a call from a federal prosecutor by the name of Angela Evans,” Cartwright began, once they were seated. “It seems the U.S. Attorney’s Office is investigating you, which means they’re investigating us. And that’s not something we’re happy about. You need to tell us exactly what’s going on.”

  “They seem to think that some of my clients,” Waverly paused, “our clients, expired sooner than they should have. Which is crazy. Those folks were terminally ill. They were supposed to die.”

  “Are you saying this is some kind of witch hunt on the part of the U.S. Attorney’s Office and there’s nothing to it?”

  “Precisely,” Waverly replied. He wondered how much they knew. Vincent had agreed not to share any information with them about Rico, but Waverly didn’t expect him to keep his word.

  Bellamy slid a folder with Billington’s name on it across the table. “This is one of the insureds that prosecutor asked us about. What’s his story?”

  “He died in a car accident.”‘

  “Then why do they think you’re responsible?” Bellamy asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  Cartwright seemed anxious to resume control of the interrogation. “I understand you also put this company at risk by laundering drug money,” he charged.

  Damn that Vincent. “You’ve apparently talked to Vincent, so you know why I did what I did. I was placed in a situation where I had no other choice.”

  “Just how do you plan to fix this?” Bellamy asked.

  “I need a little time to work some things out.”

  “We’re not going to let your greed take this company down,” Cartwright shouted. “We had nothing to do with any of this and that’s exactly what we told the authorities.”

  “Calm down,” Bellamy said to his partner. He turned back to Waverly. “I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t really care, but you better fix it. And fast. If you need to cut yourself a deal, then do that. Just make sure this company doesn’t get snared in your trap.”

  Waverly stood up. “I’ll come up with something,” he said, more to himself.

  “There’s probably no need to even say this,” Cartwright added before Waverly reached the door, “but you no longer work for this company.”

  Waverly headed back to his car and had just put the key in the ignition when his BlackBerry chirped. He pulled it from his pocket, glanced at the display and saw that it was a blocked call. Rico.

  He was about to ignore it, but was suddenly feeling bold, so he answered the call. “Hey, amigo.”

  “Where you been?” Rico’s hostility seeped through the phone lines.

  “Last minute vacation.”

  “That was a nice article in The Times.”

  “Glad you liked it.”

  “Looks like you’re in quite a bit of trouble.”

/>   “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Well, I’m calling to find out about my money,” Rico said. “When do I get my three hundred grand?”

  “It’s going to take a little longer than I thought.”

  There was a long gap of silence. “And why is that?”

  “The feds have instructed the insurance company not to pay out on the policy until the investigation into Billington’s death is finished.”

  “And exactly what are the feds investigating?”

  “I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “Okay, then give me back the money I gave that guy, including the cut you got.”

  Waverly hung his head. “Billington cashed that check before he died. There’s no way to get the money back.”

  “Then it looks like you’re going to have to give me my money out of your own pocket.”

  “I wish I could,” Waverly said, actually meaning it. If he could give Rico back every dime, he would. “They froze all my accounts. I don’t have three hundred grand at my disposal.”

  “That’s not my problem,” Rico said. “I’m not in the business of charity work.”

  “Like I said, until this investigation—”

  “No,” Rico shouted. “It ain’t like you said. It’s like I say. You get me my money. I’m giving you one week. Otherwise, you or your brother or your wife, or maybe all three of you, will pay the price. And that’s a promise.”

  Waverly held the BlackBerry to his ear for several more seconds before finally hanging up.

  For some reason, he didn’t feel the fear that Rico’s threat was intended to generate. He was in so deep that he almost welcomed a threat against his life to put him out of his misery.

  He pulled out of the parking stall and headed for the closest bar.

  When life got rough, getting blasted always seemed like a great idea.

  CHAPTER 55

  Angela zoomed down the Harbor Freeway, intermittently sucking in long, deep gulps of air in an effort to calm herself. Her hands clenched the steering wheel so tightly, she finally had to let go so blood could start circulating again.