Amused but unconvinced, Ayanay shoved her microphone forward. “Do you deny having an affair with Sheriff Calder?”
“Unequivocally,” Kell replied shortly. What hadn’t happened before would certainly never happen now. “Next question?”
A man she recognized as the anchor for Channel 7 pressed through the pack. “Was the defendant having an affair with Clay Griffin?”
“No. And I’d strongly recommend that you check your source.” She glared in Graves’s direction, and heads swiveled to follow. “I’d also remind everyone that this is an election year for an ambitious man who saw the job of his dreams taken away four years ago. Due diligence requires examining every possible motive, for this heinous murder and for the vicious prosecution of a pillar of the community.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Kell saw Eliza being led into the courtroom and lifted her hands. “Judge Majors agreed to a Saturday arraignment due to the highly unusual witch-hunt instigated by Chief Graves. I would only ask that my client be given the benefit of due process and a chance to clear her name.”
Officer Potter guided Eliza to the table and dispersed the reporters to their pen. Eliza settled into her chair, spine stiff, face drawn.
“Did you get any sleep at all?” Kell asked in a hushed tone.
“A wink or two.” She turned to Kell. “Did the children do their chores?”
“Yes, ma’am. Cheryl Richardson brought her boys over to play with them, and she’ll stay until we can take you home.” Kell patted the hand balled into a fist on her lap, worried at the whitened knuckles. For all her calm, Eliza was terrified. “We’ll get you out of here today.”
“Do your best,” came the subdued response.
The tone of defeat worried Kell more than the bags hanging beneath fatigued hazel eyes or the clenched fists. She searched for words to bolster Eliza’s spirits, but the bailiff entered the gallery.
“All rise.” The bailiff, a veteran of thirty years, had only seen one other case draw so much attention. On that day too, Eliza Faraday was in the courthouse. But not as the defendant. He gave his assistant the signal, and the judge appeared on the dais behind her chair.
“You may be seated.” Judge Mary Majors instructed from her wide leather chair, hand-picked when she first took the bench. Luxury and comfort mattered, especially when meting out justice. A judge distracted by discomfort or personal issues became insular and overlooked the minutiae that made judges necessary. Just as importantly, she appreciated the supple give of the upholstery, its silent glide as she closed the distance between herself and the court.
Eliza started to sit, but Kell tapped her elbow in warning. On the other side of the courtroom, the prosecutor remained at attention.
Judge Majors gave a signal to the bailiff. “Mr. Mundy.”
“Docket number 780-R–491, the State v. Eliza Faraday.”
“Caleb Matthews for the State,” announced the prosecutor.
“Kell Jameson for the defense.”
Judge Majors bent forward, eyes steady and impassive. “The defendant is present and in custody. I’ll hear from the People on bail.”
The prosecutor folded his hands behind him. “Clay Griffin was brutally stabbed to death in his apartment, Your Honor. The defendant was heard threatening the deceased earlier that afternoon. She also owns the only locally known set of the weapon used in the murder.” He stopped speaking, and Chief Graves reached over the railing separating them, hissing instructions. Graves jabbed a finger in Kell’s direction. Caleb jerked his elbow free and returned his attention to the court. “Sorry, Your Honor.”
“Does the State have something to add?” Irritation at the misbehavior coated the question.
“No. We ask that the defendant be held without bail until trial.”
“Chief Graves appears to disagree with you,” she prompted. “Is there additional information the State would like to offer the Court?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Defense?”
“Eliza Faraday has a spotless record, Your Honor. Her career is serving children, and without her presence at the Center, their lives will be put at risk.”
Judge Majors reclined slightly. “Overstating the matter a tad, aren’t you, Counselor?”
“If I stray into hyperbole, Your Honor, it is simply zealous defense of my client’s good name. The purported witness statements come from former drug dealers associated with Mr. Griffin, and I would argue are not reliable.”
“We’re not at trial, Ms. Jameson. Please stick with arguments relevant to the matter of bail.”
The reproach stung, but Kell adjusted. “What is known, however, is that Eliza has lived in Hallden for nearly her entire life and does not pose a flight risk.”
Caleb interjected, “This is a second-degree murder case, Your Honor. Holding the defendant in custody is customary.”
“Customary but not mandatory,” Kell reminded the court. “This case and this defendant deserve the benefit of Your Honor’s doubt. However, we would not be opposed to a high bail, to satisfy the People’s concern.”
Judge Majors studied Eliza, mouth pursed in consideration. “Bail is set at $1 million, cash or bond.”
“Your Honor,” Kell spoke quickly before the gavel could fall. “The defense requests a preliminary hearing be set to dispose of this matter before more damage can be done.”
“The State agrees,” Caleb said, surprising Kell with his concurrence. “If it pleases the Court.”
“The defendant is not being held in custody, Counselor. A preliminary hearing will be set within thirty days, as the law requires.”
“Excuse me, Your Honor, but given the precipitous nature of the State’s case, we’d request a speedier hearing. My client would like to have this specter removed as quickly as possible.” More importantly, Kell needed to know what else the prosecution had in its quiver.
“Be careful what you wish for, Ms. Jameson. I have a room on my calendar for this Tuesday, or your client will have to wait until October. Your choice.”
Tuesday? Three days to prepare for a probable-cause hearing without her team or the mountains of resources she typically had at her command. Eliza tensed beside her, and she knew the decision was out of her hands. “We’ll take Tuesday, Your Honor.”
“Preliminary hearing is set for Tuesday, September twenty-third. Court dismissed.” The gavel sounded and the judge disappeared into chambers.
Eliza released a pent-up breath, her body sagging for an instant. “I can go home?”
“Yes, as soon as we can post bail.” Kell gathered her materials, including the bond paperwork she’d arranged earlier using one of Eliza’s accounts. She’d fret over her rash decision to move ahead with the hearing later. Since it seemed the day to take chances, she faced Eliza. “I need your permission to do something.”
“You’re not a child, Kell. You haven’t needed my permission in quite a while.”
“For this, I do.” She met Eliza’s questioning look squarely. “I want to tell Luke what you told me last night. All of it.”
“If you think it’s best. Alright.”
Kell frowned. “That quickly. You don’t want to know why? You’re not worried?”
“Kell, my dear, you don’t place faith in others easily. If Luke has earned your confidence, then he has mine. I’ve known him for quite a while now, and I know he’s someone I can rely on. I’m simply pleased you agree.”
Pressing her hand to Eliza’s cheek, she advised, “Thanks, Mrs. F. I have a bondsman on standby. I’ll have you at the Center and back to the children by lunch.”
Chief Graves stormed around Assistant D.A. Matthews’s office, voice raised in outrage. “Why the hell didn’t you tell the judge about Jameson and Calder?”
“Because it wasn’t relevant.”
“Not relevant?” Graves squealed. “It proves that I had to take over the case. And that Calder can’t be trusted.”
“Jurisdiction isn’t my concern, Chief. I’m resp
onsible for prosecution—no matter who brings me the case.”
The even temper stoked his rage higher. Impotently, Graves growled, “It’s your fault she’s out on bail. Cross me again, and I’ll have you prosecuting jaywalkers and litterbugs.”
For his part, Caleb Matthews reclined in his seat, unperturbed. Michael Graves reminded him of a law professor he’d once had. A Napoleon of a man convinced of his native superiority, a belief belied by all available evidence. On his desk, the Faraday file lay open to the eyewitness statement, supplied by Graves. “When you’ve finished your tantrum, perhaps we can review the case file.”
“Tantrum? Why you pissant! When the D.A. hears about this—”
“By the time the D.A. hears about this, he won’t interfere,” Caleb reminded Graves solemnly. “He’s on vacation in Aruba for three weeks, which means you’ll have to deal with me. And let me explain how I work.” He lifted a sheet from the file. “Statements should be notarized. I don’t introduce evidence that has your signature as the witness.”
Graves protested, “I always sign witness statements.”
“Not in my cases. This statement will need to be retaken. I’d be happier if it were corroborated by someone who didn’t refer to himself as ‘Doc.’”
“He’s my witness.”
“Then I’ll expect you to have the notarized versions in my office on Monday. Jameson is taking a gamble on a Tuesday prelim, which leads me to think she knows something we don’t.”
“She’s bluffing,” Graves asserted confidently. “She didn’t know about the eyewitness last night. Her entire strategy has been about boffing the sheriff.”
Caleb ignored the remark, masking his distaste. Instead, he riffled through the file until he reached the autopsy report. “This is a copy of the autopsy. Where’s the tox screen or the lab report?”
“I haven’t received that from Calder yet,” Graves answered stiffly. “I told you, he’s engaged in a cover-up.”
“Because he didn’t share his evidence with you?”
“Because he’s boning the defense attorney and doesn’t want her client to go to jail.”
Fed up with the snide remarks, Caleb demanded, “Do you have proof of a relationship between Sheriff Calder and Ms. Jameson?”
“I will have it. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Until I receive incontrovertible proof, no more mention of an affair will be made to the press or to the court.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“You’re right. I can’t. But I can ask the court for a gag order to prevent you from talking. Break it and the judge will hold you in contempt of court.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“I work for the people, Chief Graves. Same as you.” He thumped the evidence file once. “You made a premature arrest on circumstantial evidence. You don’t have the murder weapon, you don’t have a provable motive, and you’ve made the defendant seem sympathetic.”
“I have not.”
“Attacking a woman who takes care of orphans and accusing her of killing a drug dealer. If the public doesn’t see her as the victim instead of Griffin already, it’s simply a matter of time. I’ve seen Kell Jameson work. By jumping the gun on this, you’ve given her first blood in the media war.”
“We’re in Hallden. Not Atlanta.”
“Doesn’t matter. People will be riveted, and now they have to choose sides. The grandmother who rescues abandoned children or the drug dealer who”—he picked up the witness statement—“apparently tried to rape one of her kids.” He tossed the page down onto the desk. “The best hope we have of conviction is that you do manage to find a murder weapon and another witness who doesn’t have a rap sheet as long as this one does.”
Graves caviled, “If you think we’ll lose, why did you agree to an early p.c. date?”
“Strategy. A Tuesday hearing on probable cause gives Jameson less time to win over the jury. As a matter of fact, my first motion will definitely be for a gag order.” Graves sputtered, and Caleb held up his hand. “It makes sense. She’s superb on television.”
“Then I’ll tell our side of the story.”
Caleb cleared his throat. “With all due respect, you’re way outside her league.” He reached for a second folder, with Luke Calder’s name on the tab. “Sheriff Calder’s service record was on my desk. I assume you provided it?”
“He’s been involved in a cover-up before. No reason he wouldn’t do it again.”
“The shooting in Chicago. Yes, I read it. According to the report, he was cleared of wrongdoing.”
“Then why did he quit his job and move across the country?” Smirking, Graves smacked at the report. “A wrong cop is always wrong. He let his men get killed and now he’s letting that girl cloud his judgment.”
“Maybe.” Caleb examined the folder thoughtfully. “Find me proof of an affair, and I’ll bring it to the judge.”
“Good. Very good.”
CHAPTER 24
Luke scanned the crime lab report a third time, absorbing even less than his first two passes. Coffee, gone lukewarm, slid down his throat with the jolt of caffeine he required after a sleepless night. Recriminations chased frustration, snarled with an impotent rage. Graves had stepped over a line Luke never should have drawn. Still, in an endless loop, he played the last two weeks in his mind, trying to decide what he’d have done differently.
He rejected every scenario that ended with avoiding Kell.
In his gut, he didn’t buy the evidence against Eliza, strong as it was. As a cop, his job was dispassionate observation, but that was a crock. Cases required strong feelings, instinct as much as evidence. And instinct screamed that Graves’s zeal to pin the murder on Eliza had nothing to do with law enforcement.
“So what else is there?” he muttered. Hopefully, he’d find the answer in the chemistry report, assuming he could focus long enough to decipher its conclusions. This morning, he’d burned through his store of favors to get a fax of the preliminary findings. Downing the rest of his coffee, he forced himself to concentrate on the lab tech’s analysis. Then he saw it. “Bingo.”
He grabbed the phone and punched in the number to the Center. Jorden answered on the first ring. “Faraday Center.”
“Jorden, is Kell there?”
“Yes, sir. She brought Mrs. F home like she promised. You wanna talk to her?”
“Please.” Focused now, he reviewed the tech’s description of the evidence bag he’d sent along. More tests would be forthcoming, but his initial theory had Luke springing up from his chair and shoving his gun into the holster.
“Luke?”
“Put on some jeans and sneakers. I’ll be out to pick you up in fifteen minutes.” Without giving her a chance to respond, he hung up the phone. Swinging through his door, he called out, “If Chief Graves stops by, lock the doors.”
En route, he dialed Curly. The obscene greeting brought a grin. “Long night?”
“Had me playing nanny until the crack of dawn. What do you want now?”
“Property records. I’m heading out to County Road, Route one-forty-eight. Find out who owns all that land between Hallden County and Taylor.”
“Any particular name I’m looking for?”
“Not yet. But if a name pops out at you, do a background check for me.”
“Will do.” Curly frowned into the phone. “Watch your back, Luke. Graves is serious about this one.”
“I know. Hopefully in a few hours I’ll know why.”
“Thanks for coming, Kell.” Luke drove away from the Center. “I appreciate it.”
“Where are we going, exactly?” Kell asked, still a bit groggy. She’d lain down for a power nap, only to have Jorden banging on her door with a message from Luke. Despite the summons, she’d been waiting when he arrived and taken up her now-regular post in his truck. “Did you learn something new?”
“Curly found some information that might help Eliza.” Before she could interrogate him, he cont
inued, “I hear Caleb Matthews agreed to a hearing in on Tuesday?”
“Yes,” she answered. “He seems to be confident.”
“Matthews is good. So good, I’m surprised you were able to get bail posted so fast.” He nodded approvingly. “Eliza must have been relieved.”
“She’ll be relieved when all of this disappears.” When her reputation no longer lay in tatters to be picked over by a press that typically covered nothing more exciting than a failed bank robbery. “The kids are anxious. The younger ones keep crying, and the others are afraid to speak. They don’t trust that I’ll save her.”
“They don’t trust the system,” Luke corrected. “She’s been their bedrock, and now she’s shaken.”
“I know. I know.” Kell rested her head on the seat, eyes closed against the afternoon sun. “I’ve never seen her like this. So—diminished. Mrs. F is a bulldog. But watching her in court today, she seemed frail. Almost broken.
“Graves has threatened everything she holds dear. The Center. You.”
“Me.” Me and Fin and Julia, still causing her grief, she thought despondently. “I can’t let him do this to her, Luke. It’s not right.”
“If this were another case, another client, what would you do?”
“I’d break their story. Find witnesses to undo theirs, hire experts to contradict the ones they put up.”
“So we’ll do that.” Luke caught her hand, and her eyes fluttered open. He kept his attention on the road, his words calm and certain. “I’m in, Kell. Completely.”
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