The Witness Series Bundle

by Rebecca Forster

  Giving back for P.J. included taking care of her own six children and a husband disabled after a construction accident as well as righting society's wrongs. Today she said she wanted to right a wrong the district attorney's office had committed. As far as Josie was concerned, it all smelled to high heaven.

  "Look, I've talked it over with the district attorney and there are a few things that he thinks we can agree upon. First, some of the facts of this case are open to interpretation."

  "Which means that you don't think you can convict on murder one." Josie cut in, in no mood for the party line. P.J. blessed her again with her smile and then ignored her.

  "He believes that given Ms. McCreary's high profile in the community. . ."

  "Oh, please," Josie exclaimed only to be discounted again as P.J. forged ahead.

  ". . . And since her brother might soon be part of a national political campaign, there is a danger of creating an atmosphere in which justice cannot be served and the victim will be forgotten."

  Josie bit the side of her lip and looked askance at Matthew. He was listening intently, sitting up straight when P.J. gave him the nod of consolation, but there seemed to be no indication that he was going through the motions, waiting for a prearranged deal to be cut. That meant the DA was looking at this situation on its own merit.

  "You can stop talking like a television show, P.J., and talk to me." Josie was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, one arm crooked on the arm of the chair. When she had P.J.'s attention, she sat up straight. "Since I think you missed it the first time, let's go over it again. My client isn't a public figure, so the only political ramifications you're talking about seem to be the DA's. He might be concerned that prosecuting Ms. McCreary for a crime she didn't commit will come back to bite him in the next election."

  "Not at all." P.J. laughed heartily, as if the suggestion was beyond ridiculous. "Not that public perception isn't a consideration. A public figure accused of a heinous crime can create a media circus. No one is well served when that happens. We can all agree on that, can't we?"

  "Your reasoning is a little far-fetched," Josie grumbled. "So let's just leave it that you don't want the scrutiny. If you have an offer, make it."

  "As a matter of fact, I do. Involuntary manslaughter. Six years. Two or three—we'll leave that to the judge, but we'll recommend parole at two. I'd say that's a darn sight better than a first-degree charge that carries life or special circumstances and the death penalty. A bargain, don't you think?"

  P.J.'s grin disappeared. Her black eyes were flinty as she laid it out for Josie. Matthew and Grace were dismissed and Josie was barely tolerated. That was when Josie got it. P.J. Vega didn't like any of them. She was prejudiced and it had nothing to do with the color of their skin, only the color of their money. Fine. Josie could live with that. She didn't particularly like P.J. Vega's little jolly act, so they were even.

  "That's an interesting offer considering you don't have anything that looks remotely like hard evidence." Josie answered calmly.

  "We have an eyewitness who puts her on the balcony helping her sister-in-law take a flying leap."

  "That's not true," Grace objected.

  "Absolutely untrue—" Matthew cried just before Josie put up a hand for silence.

  "Grace doesn't deny being on that balcony," Josie said calmly. "She was attempting to stop Mrs. McCreary from jumping. So, unless you're telepathic you can't prove intent. I'd say you're even a little light on manslaughter without a motive."

  "I don't think so." P.J. countered by taking a picture from an envelope on her desk "The McCreary women have been at odds for a long while regarding Mrs. McCreary's refusal to participate in her husband's campaign efforts."

  "What's she talking about?" Matthew asked and reached for the photograph. Josie and Grace huddled to look at it.

  "It's a picture of two women arguing." Josie handed it back. "I see worse every time I pass the hair salon."

  P.J. took the picture and looked at it again.

  "Two women whose relationship had been deteriorating for weeks, according to Mr. McCreary's staff," she mused before engaging Josie again. "It seems Mrs. McCreary wanted to disassociate herself from the campaign and your client took vocal exception to that."

  "I admit I had been upset," Grace explained. "Matthew needed her. People were starting to ask questions."

  "I imagine they were, since family values are such a cornerstone of your brother's campaign." P.J. commiserated with anything but kindness. "But it went deeper than that. The accounts for the Committee to Elect Matthew McCreary to the United State Senate were in arrears. Your sister-in-law was refusing to make good on her pledge to infuse cash into the campaign. Money problems, in-law problems, people have killed for less. I might grant you this may not have been a premeditated act, but—"

  "That's enough." Josie cut her off. "It's ridiculous to base an arrest on some unpaid bills and an argument."

  "I think I could convince a judge that I'm on the right track," P.J. said. "I have a lot of people saying your client would do anything to keep her brother from losing this election."

  "Then it's a good thing I'm her lawyer. I don't like to lose either," Josie said. "My client will not serve one day of jail time or probation based on that nonsense."

  "Is that what you want, Ms. McCreary? Do you want to take a chance that I'm right and your attorney is wrong? If you walk away the offer is off the table."

  "Oh, please," Josie scoffed and as she turned her head she saw that Grace was sitting rigid in her chair, staring straight ahead, thinking too hard about what PJ.was saying.

  "Grace, let's go!"

  Josie stood up, calling P.J.'s bluff before Grace was scared into a raw deal. Grace took a moment, and then put her hands on the arms of her chair, but before she could stand, Matthew mixed it up.

  "Wait. Aren't you going to give us some time to think about this?" He looked at P.J. and then whipped around to talk to Josie. "Are you just going to walk away without some sort of negotiation?"

  "Matthew, if they had a case they'd prosecute on the original charge," Josie said as she took Grace's arm. "In good conscience, they should admit to a mistake and apologize. This is about the DA and the cops saving face. They don't want to open themselves up to a false-arrest charge. This woman just doesn't want to admit—"

  "Wait a second. Hold on," P.J. snapped and her big, beefy hands came down flat on her well-ordered desk. The little pink pencil holder jumped and shivered. P.J. didn't even notice. "I'm ready to go on this. I'm giving you a gift because that's the way it came down from the top, but the top says it's my call in the end."

  "Then if the DA is asking you to plead her out he must know something you don't or he's doing someone a favor," Josie shot back. "And if that's what he's doing, then he better watch out because I'll launch an investigation that will have him behind bars before my client ever sees the inside of a jail."

  "Stop." Matthew was between the two women, facing Josie, lowering his voice. "Josie, if what she says is true then there's more room to negotiate. I think we should go directly to the district attorney on this."

  "Isn't that what you've already done?" Josie hissed.

  "Of course not. Do you think I'm crazy?" Matthew swore. She half believed him, but only half.

  "Even if they offered straight probation, Grace would still be a convicted felon if she pled out. She'd have a record," Josie argued.

  "So what? It's not like she has to worry about getting a job. Grace is rich. No one will care, Josie."

  "How about clearing her name for your own peace of mind? If she pled wouldn't you always wonder if she hurt Michelle? Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Josie moved in close to him and lowered her voice.

  "Michelle is dead. That's all I need to know," Matthew said grimly.

  Frustrated, Josie turned her attention to Grace.

  "Do you want to go to prison? Do you want to plead?"

  "
No, I didn't do anything I'm ashamed of," Grace said, intent on Matthew. His silence distressed her. "You don't believe I did, do you, Matthew? Matthew?"

  "For God's sake!" Josie swore angrily. "Did you kill Michelle? Did you help her take her own life?" Josie felt Matthew move. She shot a look of warning over her shoulder. "Don't say anything, Matthew. If you don't care about the truth, I do. Grace does."

  "I care about the percentages," he said, unwilling to back down. "I don't want Grace to pay the price because you want all or nothing."

  "Hold on. Hold on," PJ. called and knuckled her desk. "I'll give you twenty-four hours. Get back to me. Fair enough?"

  "We don't need it." Josie started out the door. When Grace didn't move, she looked at her client. "Do we need it, Grace?"

  "No," she whispered and the sound of it was almost lost as Josie's cell phone started to ring.

  CHAPTER 20

  Faye Baxter and Josie surveyed the damage to Hannah's bedroom. The portrait of Josie that Hannah had been working on was on the floor, destroyed, a huge hole in the center where her face had been. Paint was everywhere. It had been dumped, tossed, drizzled over the linens and rugs and walls. Hannah's little red lacquer stool, the one thing she had brought from her mother's house, was almost black with it.

  "This is incredible," Josie muttered. "Everything is ruined."

  "Hannah was so upset when she found it," Faye said. "Terrified."

  "I would have been, too." Josie picked her way through the land mines of gooey paint and turned the stool over. "I can have this refinished. Everything else will have to be tossed"

  "Have you seen your bedroom?"

  "Yep. Nice job there, too. He had a field day, didn't he? A little bit of paint and a lot of down go a long way. I'll need a new comforter. New pillows."

  Josie pulled her bottom lip up. The upper one wasn't quite as stiff as she wanted it to be. This was her home and it had been desecrated. Hannah was her charge and she had been scared out of her wits. The one place they both thought was inviolate wasn't. It could have been worse, though, and Josie didn't want to think about that. This was just a miserable end to an already disconcerting day.

  Josie turned on her heel and walked back to the living room wishing Archer was there. It was a silly, girlish thought because Josie could take care of herself. Nonetheless, she wished it was him in her living room instead of the cop who was taking a report from Hannah. When Josie entered, the girl looked up from the floor where she sat beside Max-the-Dog. There was a can of paint thinner by her side. Rag in hand, she was trying to wipe away the green paint that had been poured over Max's head. Josie hunkered down and gently nudged his snout upward. His eyes were woeful but at least they were clear. No paint in them.

  "Some of it's coming out."

  Hannah wiped Max's fur again. Josie caught sight of her inner arm and saw that the skin was fiery red, scratched hard enough that her nails had drawn welts. Josie reached for that arm and cupped it, rubbed it. A small smile acknowledged Hannah's pain and gave her praise for not taking the compulsion to hurt herself one step further. Pushing herself off the floor, Josie walked outside with the cop and told him what he needed to know.

  "Kevin O'Connel. He lives in San Pedro and works at the harbor. I represented his wife in a civil matter. He's not happy with the judgment. He was violent with her. It's got to be him."

  "We can check it out but unless we've got something solid there's no way we can arrest him for this. Nobody saw anything. They were at work." He swung his head toward the neighbors on Josie's right. "They can't see anything because of the privacy hedge." This time he indicated the house on the other side. "And they've been in ..."

  "I know. Palm Springs for the winter. O'Connel is smart. I don't doubt that, but there must be something. Look, send in a team to dust for prints. He's been arrested. It would be an easy match."

  "I can get them out here day after tomorrow."

  "You're joking, right?" Josie put a hand on her hip, appalled that this wasn't being treated with the gravity it deserved. "Look, I told you. He's dangerous. Hannah's young and can't protect herself. I've got to work."

  "And our forensics guy is at a conference until Wednesday," the cop informed her.

  "Then borrow someone from Manhattan Beach or Torrance," she insisted.

  "You'll have to talk to the sergeant in charge. Look, I'm sorry, but I can't send someone who isn't here and I can't just call up another department and order out a team." The young cop was frustrated. He wanted to do what was right but he wasn't going to put his butt in a sling for anyone. "I've got to tell you, this looks like something the kids from the school would do. I don't know many dangerous criminals who take the time to dump paint on a dog's head."

  "You don't know this guy," Josie muttered before sighing with resignation. "Okay. Your hands are tied. I appreciate you coming out."

  "If there's anything else, let me know. Probably not a bad idea to get an alarm system. Especially if the young lady is going to be home alone."

  Josie nodded. An alarm was on her list of things to do that just hadn't been done. She put her hand to her head and ran her fingers through her bangs. Josie knew Kevin O'Connel had done this.

  "Josie?" Faye called to her from the doorstep.

  "Yep."

  She walked toward the house while Faye came down the steps slowly. Every once in a while Faye showed her age and this was one of those times. The two women met in the middle of the walk.

  "Do you want Hannah to come stay with me for a bit?" Faye offered.

  "I don't know," Josie said, scanning Hermosa Avenue, looking for any sign of Kevin O'Connel. "She'd probably just sneak out to check on me if I sent her your way. I'll see if Billy Zuni will stay with her until I get off work."

  "Do you really think Billy is going to scare this man off—I mean if it is him?"

  "I do," Josie said. "Kevin O'Connel doesn't want anyone seeing him do this stuff. Besides, he was trying to teach me a lesson, not Hannah."

  "Did he?" Faye asked.

  "Sure. He taught me you need security even in Hermosa. Never thought I'd see the day." Josie chuckled sadly.

  "All right, Josie," Faye said. "But make sure you tell those kids if they need anything to give me a call. You're both welcome if you need a place to go."

  "Thanks, Faye. I don't know what I'd do without you. If you hadn't been there for Hannah who knows what she might have done to herself."

  "She would have done just fine. Have a little faith, Josie. You've worked wonders with her already. It can only get better."

  The two women parted ways: Faye back to her house now that the day was almost done, Josie into her ruined one. Inside, she sat cross-legged on the floor with Hannah and together they tended to Max until they had done what they could for the poor green-headed dog.

  "Well, guess I better see what I can do with my room," Hannah said as she got up.

  "Want me to help?" Josie offered.

  She shook her head. "I can do it. I should do it. The window is broken where he came in."

  "I know. I'll board it up. We'll get someone out tomorrow to replace it."

  "Okay." Hannah was just about to leave the room when she had another question. "Do you think he'll come back?"

  "He might, Hannah," Josie said, but the truth brought so much terror to Hannah's eyes that Josie was immediately sorry. There were times when a lie, even a big one, was called for. She only wished she had told it.

  ***

  "You didn't come to court for moral support, Helen. You were there to see if your deal went through and that means you promised the DA something— something I'm going to have to give him when I'm elected." Matthew was angry and frustrated and Helen didn't like him that way at all. Maybe she should have gone home, called him later to see if everything had worked out, but she hadn't done that and now she was stuck.

  "Calm down. You don't owe him a thing, and I can't make any promises. I just had a con
versation with a friend of mine who was a friend of his." Helen snapped the makeup mirror on the visor shut and looked at Matthew. "Don't be naive. This is done all the time. A conversation here and there, people trying to help out where they can. Nothing illegal. Nothing immoral. He didn't drop the charges, did he?"

  "We're not talking the letter of the law here and you know it," Matthew complained.

  "What I know is that Grace's lawyer is a fanatic. She digs her heels in and won't let go until she proves she's right. Look at what she did in the Rayburn case. She aired dirty laundry from here to Sacramento. Every bit of information I have on her points to that woman dragging this out to the bitter end and that means a story about you and Grace on the news every day. And the prosecutor's no better. She'll have a field day when she starts digging around in Grace's past—and Michelle's, for that matter. For God's sake, you have to understand how dangerous that could be for you."

  "Of course I do." Matthew's hand came down hard on the armrest. Helen jumped but didn't dare interrupt him now that he had made it clear she had crossed a final line. "What I don't understand is how you can have my best interest at heart and undermine me at every turn. You didn't tell me you'd found Grace until she was on my doorstep. You didn't tell me about this thing with the DA until it was done."

  "I didn't know if it would bear fruit," she insisted. "And if I told you about it, then technically you would be in on it. That could come back and bite you. Better it be left as a conversation than looking like a political strong-arm ploy or worse, a bribe instigated by you."

  Helen Crane put her elbow on the car window and leaned her chin against her upturned palm. They had been sitting in her parked car too long and they both needed a breather. Matthew was right. She should trust him. But the truth was some things needed to be taken out of his hands and this was one of those things. Three cars down Helen could see the back of Grace McCreary's head. She didn't look back to see what Matthew and Helen were doing. A lazy plume of smoke came from the cigarette she held out the window. Anyone else would be in this car, demanding to know what was being said about them. But not Grace. Why not Grace? Helen looked back at Matthew.