Talon Winter Legal Thrillers Box Set

by Stephen Penner

  CHAPTER 8

  “Fuck Cecilia Thompson.”

  Talon was back at her office, working into the night, reading and rereading the inches of police reports that Cecilia had provided her at their meeting.

  She considered how a person could be charged with a murder they never intended and that someone else committed. “Fuck the felony murder statute.”

  Then she pulled out the 47-page transcript of her client’s suspect interview and threw it across the room. “And fuck this confession!”

  It wasn’t just that Luke had confessed. It was how detailed the confession was. It was like he’d read the police reports first. The kind of knowledge only someone who was in on the crime would have known. It was all over except the crying. And the trial. The lengthy show trial the prosecutor’s office was going to put on for the cops and the voters. At least the deliberations would be quick. The jury was going to convict him faster than Talon could say ‘payment plan.’

  But the worst part was that Luke didn’t tell her about the confession. It sounded like he didn’t tell his family either. She never would have agreed to take the case on a thousand-year payment plan if she’d known Luke had confessed. It didn’t make him any less deserving of a defense. But it made it a hell of a lot harder for her to be successful in that defense. Losing was bad enough. Losing for free was just stupid.

  And Talon hated looking stupid.

  She walked over and started picking up the transcript. Maybe she could suppress the confession somehow. Maybe they left out one of his constitutional rights. Maybe they didn’t follow all the steps in the confession recording statute. Maybe….

  Maybe she was fucked.

  “Working late?” came a voice from behind her, even as she was still bent over picking up pieces of her client’s confession.

  Talon knew the voice. It was Curt Fairchild, a private investigator whose office was on the same floor. They’d worked a few cases together, among other things. She supposed he was a friend. She supposed he wanted more. She supposed she couldn’t blame him.

  “That’s a stupid question,” she answered, as she picked up the last of the papers off the floor. She stood up and faced him. “You call yourself an investigator?”

  “Depends who’s asking,” Curt replied. He didn’t exactly look like an investigator, but then again that probably made him a better one. Instead of a rumpled trench coat and tousled hair, he wore a crisp blue shirt and khakis over a fit frame, stylishly cut black hair pushed back from a clean-shaven face. “Why? You need one on that cop-killer case?”

  “Oh, you’ve heard about that case?” Talon sat down behind her desk again.

  “Oh, yeah,” Curt answered. “Everyone’s talking about it.”

  “Everyone?” Talon asked.

  “Well, Hannah,” Curt clarified. “When I asked her what you were working on.”

  “Ah.” Talon nodded.

  “And Greg,” Curt expounded. “He was standing there when I asked Hannah.”

  Talon groaned. “What did Greg say about it?”

  “He said you were crazy for taking it.”

  Talon ran her hands through her hair. “I think he may be right.”

  “Big case. Good publicity, right?” Curt tried.

  “Not when I lose.” Talon frowned.

  “Lose?” Curt questioned. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

  Talon tapped the transcript. “Well, my client’s confession may disagree.”

  “He confessed?” Curt reached out for the document.

  “Apparently,” Talon said, handing it to him. “But the worst part is, he didn’t tell me about it when I first met with him. He told me everything else, but he never told me he confessed.”

  “Seems like kind of a big thing to leave out,” Curt observed as he flipped through the transcript.

  “Yeah, and now I have to go talk to him again,” Talon sighed. “It’s not going to be pretty. I don’t like being lied to.”

  “Sounds like you could use a witness,” Curt suggested. “Or an investigator.”

  Talon laughed and shook her head. “You really want to work on a cop-killer case?”

  Curt shrugged and handed the confession transcript back to Talon. “I bet there’s more to it than that.”

  “There always is,” Talon agreed. She took a moment and looked at the reports, then the clock. She sighed. “Okay, I can look at this more tomorrow, before we go pay a visit to my client.” She stood up and stretched her back. “You heading out?” she asked Curt.

  “Yeah,” Curt answered. “I parked right by you.”

  “Cool,” Talon acknowledged. She turned off her computer and her office light, and they headed for the elevators.

  It had been a long day. She appreciated having someone else to talk with about the case, even if it was Curt, and even if it was just to complain. A good night’s sleep and she’d be ready to attack the case again—even if that meant attacking her own client, rather than her usual targets on the other side, the prosecutor and the cops.

  The elevator door opened, and she decided her usual targets would be just fine after all.

  There were only two cars still in the garage. Curt’s and hers. You could tell which one was Curt’s car because it didn’t have its windows smashed out and the words ‘COP KILLER LOVER’ painted down the side.

  “Holy shit!” Curt exclaimed.

  Talon didn’t say a word.

  After a moment, Curt looked at her and gestured frantically toward the vandalized car. “We better call the police.”

  But Talon just barked out a dark laugh. “Who the hell do you think did this?”

  CHAPTER 9

  “You really should call the police,” Curt nagged the next day as they walked into the Pierce County Jail. He had driven. Obviously.

  “I’m not calling the police, Curt,” Talon answered. “I have insurance. They’ll take care of the damage.”

  “It’s not about the damage,” Curt pressed. “It’s about holding the culprits accountable.”

  Talon stopped short. “Did you really just say ‘culprit’?” She reached up and patted him on the head. “That’s adorable. Now shut up. Don’t tell me what decisions to make. I can just as easily decide I don’t need an investigator on this case. Or If I do, that it’s not you.”

  Curt took the advice. He kept quiet until they’d made it inside the jail and Luke Zlotnik was escorted into the attorney-client meeting room for his cell block.

  Talon didn’t stand up when they entered. Instead she glared at Luke from her seat at the small plastic table and waited for the guard to leave. When he did, she nodded toward Curt.

  “This is Curt Fairchild,” she said. “He’s here because you lied to me.”

  “Uh…” Luke wasn’t sure how to respond. He looked at Curt, but didn’t say hi, then back to Talon, but didn’t seem to know what to say. Finally, he stammered, “I, I didn’t lie to you.”

  “That’s two.” Talon held up two fingers. “If you lie again, we’re done, and you can find yourself a different lawyer. And I’m keeping your parents’ money—what I’ve received so far anyway—so it’ll probably be the public defender, who already has way too many cases. Hope you like prison food.”

  Luke opened his mouth to say something, but Talon cut him off.

  “Be careful,” she warned. “Do not lie to me again.”

  Luke closed his mouth, then sat down meekly across from her and Curt. “What are we talking about?”

  Talon leaned forward. “We are talking about your confession, Luke,” she growled. “We are talking about the single most important piece of evidence the State has against you. We are talking about the thing you didn’t even bother to mention to me before I agreed to take your case. That, Luke, is what we are talking about.”

  “Oh.” Luke actually seemed to relax a little. “Okay, yeah. I forgot about that. But I didn’t lie to you. I lied to them.”

  “You lied to them?” Talon repeated. “The cops?”
>
  “Yeah,” Luke answered. “That confession, it wasn’t true. That’s why I didn’t tell you about it. They can’t use it if isn’t true, right?”

  “Wrong,” Talon pinched the bridge of her nose. “And stupid. And totally unbelievable. No one lies to say they committed a crime they didn’t commit. They lie to say they didn’t commit a crime they did commit.”

  “But they told me they’d let me go if I just told them what happened,” Luke protested.

  “So, tell them the truth,” Talon suggested. “Assuming you’re not lying to me again right now.”

  “I’m not,” Luke insisted.

  “Then why in the world would you ever confess to murder?” Talon challenged.

  “I didn’t confess to murder,” Luke defended. “I didn’t say I killed anyone. They just told me if I cooperated, I could go home. They told me if I just admitted I knew what Miguel was going to do then they could wrap up their investigation and everyone could go home.”

  “Well, I suppose that was sort of true,” Curt chimed in. “They got to wrap up their investigation.”

  “And they got to go home,” Talon pointed out. “But not you, huh, Luke?”

  Luke just frowned and shrugged. “No, I guess not.”

  “I’ve read the confession, Luke,” Talon continued. “You’re right. You didn’t confess to premediated murder. But you did confess to felony murder. You admit you helped plan the robbery, drove Miguel to the robbery, and waited outside while Miguel went inside to commit the robbery, so you could drive him away after the robbery. That’s a confession to robbery. And because someone besides Miguel died during that robbery, it’s also a confession to felony murder.”

  “I don’t even know what felony murder means,” Luke protested. “I just—”

  “The cops did,” Curt pointed out. “They knew what felony murder means.”

  “Yep.” Talon nodded. “They knew exactly what he needed to say.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Luke asked.

  “The guy who interviewed you,” Talon asked, “was he nice or was he kind of a jerk?”

  “There were two of them,” Luke answered, “and they were both really nice. They brought me McDonald’s. They told me what happened to Miguel and the cop who died. They told me they were just trying to tie up some loose ends, and I could help them with that.”

  “Did you tell them you didn’t know what Miguel was going to do?” Talon asked.

  “Yeah, a bunch of times,” Luke said. “I kept telling them I had no idea Miguel was planning on robbing the place, but they kept saying that didn’t make sense, and I had to know. They said they weren’t accusing me of murder—because Miguel did that—but no one was gonna believe I didn’t know he was gonna rob the place.”

  Curt frowned at Talon. “The recorder wasn’t on for any of that, was it?”

  Luke thought for a moment. “No, they didn’t even put the recorder on the table until the very end. After they told me everything that happened.”

  “The Reid Method,” Curt recalled from his days of training to be a cop—before deciding to strike out as a defense investigator instead. “Lock down the details first, off the record, then turn on the recorder to get a nice clean confession. No initial denials, no irrelevant tangents, no confusing questions from the suspect.”

  “And no record of feeding the suspect all the details that make it into the recorded confession.” Talon knew the interrogation technique too. And its dangers. “Feed him the info, tell him what to say, and promise him he can go if he’ll just say it.”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything, huh?” Luke asked.

  “You should never say anything to the cops,” Talon answered. “But it’s too late now.”

  “Is it really too late?” Luke’s eyes widened. “Like, that’s it, it’s over? I’m going to get convicted of murder? I swear, I didn’t know Miguel was gonna kill anyone. I didn’t even know he was going to rob that place. I just thought we were gonna score some weed and get high. I swear to God. You have to believe me. You have to.”

  Talon raised a palm. “Calm down. I do believe you. I probably shouldn’t, but I do. The problem is, the jury won’t. They’ll believe your confession.”

  “We need someone to tell them about the Reid Method,” Curt said.

  “Right,” Talon agreed. “That it’s designed to extract confessions no matter what the facts are. That it’s been rejected by most other countries as unreliable and rife for abuse. That there are documented cases where people were wrongly convicted based on false confessions.”

  “Can’t you just tell them all that?” Luke asked.

  “No,” Talon answered. “I’m just a lawyer. I can’t say anything a witness doesn’t say first.”

  “So, what are we going to do?” Luke almost pleaded. “They have to understand I was lying. I didn’t know.”

  “We need an expert,” Talon knew. “Someone with a bunch of letters after their name to come in and explain to the jury how a person could possibly be stupid enough to confess to a crime they didn’t commit.”

  “Good,” Curt interjected with a grin. “Sounds like we have a plan.”

  “Sure.” Talon leaned back in her chair. “A terrible plan.”

  Curt looked askance. “Why terrible?’

  “Because that’s going to cost money,” Talon complained. “Money no one has. His parents can’t afford to pay me. I can’t afford to pay you. I don’t know how we’re going to pay for a national expert on false confessions.”

  Curt raised a finger. “Wait. You can’t afford to pay me?”

  Talon ignored him.

  “What happens if we don’t hire the expert?” Luke asked.

  “What if we don’t hire a Ph.D. in psychology?” Talon asked, “To explain to the jury how a person could possibly confess to a crime they didn’t commit? To explain why they shouldn’t just go ahead and believe your confession since it’s filled with corroborating details only a guilty person would know? To explain why they shouldn’t just do the easy thing, take you at your word, and convict you of murder in the first degree?”

  Luke frowned. “Uh, yeah.”

  “Simple,” Talon answered. “You’ll spend the next thirty-five years in prison.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “Can we talk again about that whole ‘I’m not getting paid’ thing?” Curt asked as he and Talon stepped out of the jail and onto the sidewalk next to the courthouse.

  Talon sighed. That was the last thing she wanted to talk about just then. Luckily, she saw an opportunity to change the subject. Literally.

  “Hey.” She pointed at a crowd gathering on the courthouse steps. “What’s that?”

  Curt looked over. “It looks like a crowd.”

  Talon rolled her eyes, then clapped him on the back. “You really are the world’s best investigator. Come on, let’s go take a closer look. I see someone I know.”

  That someone was Cecilia Thompson. She was standing on the courthouse steps next to her boss, who in turn was standing in front of a throng of reporters and cameramen, with a crowd behind them. Some of the crowd were identifiable by their dark suits as members of the legal profession, mostly obsequious junior prosecutors sucking up to their boss, but a few defenders like Talon, curious about what was happening. Except Talon could at least guess at the topic. Her little attempt at tainting the jury pool was apparently not going to go unanswered.

  “Thank you, thank you,” Cecilia’s boss started out. His name was Craig Donaldson. He wasn’t the elected prosecutor for the county, but he was only one step down. His official title was ‘Chief Deputy Prosecutor for the Criminal Division’, but everyone called that position ‘Chief Criminal.’ Every county prosecutor’s office had several divisions, including things like civil litigation, child support enforcement, but the criminal division was the largest and Craig Donaldson had been in charge of it for as long as anyone could remember. He was probably seventy, but looked more like he was in his late fifties,
thanks to the type of healthy and clean living you might expect a career prosecutor to pursue in order to have just one more way to judge everyone else on the planet. Thick white hair was combed straight back from tanned skin and bright blue eyes. “Thank you for coming out today. We have an important announcement regarding the case of Officer Todd Dickerson, who, as we all know only too well, recently lost his life in the line of duty while stopping an armed robbery.”

  Talon and Curt came up and took a position at the back of the crowd. Talon stared intently at Cecilia so she would catch her eye when Cecilia’s slow scan of the crowd finally reached Talon. The fact that Cecilia’s scan never quite reached Talon confirmed to her that Cecilia had seen her walk up and was going to avoid eye contact at all costs.

  “I’m here today,” Donaldson continued, “to announce that while we cannot bring Officer Dickerson back, we can make sure that those responsible for his death never get the chance to live in the freedom and peace they denied him. I’m here today to announce that we will be amending the charges against Lucas Zlotnik from murder in the first degree to aggravated murder in the first degree, a charge only available in certain limited circumstances. One of those circumstances is when the victim is a police officer performing his official duties.”

  Agg Murder One. Talon knew what that meant. It meant even thirty-five years wasn’t enough.

  “The crime of aggravated murder in the first degree,” Donaldson explained, “has a mandatory sentence of life in prison without the possibility of parole. We intend to honor Officer Dickerson’s memory by holding his killer responsible and seeking the maximum penalty under the law. Thank you.”

  Talon continued to stare at Cecilia, but the prosecutor avoided her gaze. Instead, she turned to follow Donaldson back inside the courthouse. However much respect Talon might have had for Cecilia Thompson until that moment, it became clear to Talon that Cecilia was just another member of the opposing team. Part of The System. Part of The Problem.

  “Can they do that?” Curt asked as the crowd began to dissipate.