“You got blood all over me, you bitch,” he said, jerking up his zipper.
When she opened her eyes, he was standing over her. Pale eyes staring at her with the cold blankness of a mannequin. The shotgun muzzle was less than a foot from her right temple.
Take care of my babies, she prayed.
And then the world exploded.
ONE
MONDAY, JANUARY 23, 7:25 A. M.
The city of Dallas rose early on Monday morning. By six thirty A.M., Central Expressway, the Dallas North Tollway, and LBJ Freeway were packed with tens of thousands of commuters, each determined to get to work on time despite the miles of construction, the endless congestion, and the simple fact that there were more cars than roads.
Part southern belle, part cosmopolitan metropolis with a little bit of the Wild West thrown in, Dallas was a city of stark contrasts. A city caught in a perpetual identity crisis. It was a place where gracious old mansions battled for space among the glass and steel skyscrapers that had been born during the oil boom of the 1980s. A city where the slow pace of the Old South clashed with the high-tech scramble of urban America. A place where lush southern magnolia trees shivered in the wicked winds that whipped down from the high plains during the short, cold winters.
But despite its quirks and growing pains, Dallas was home and Kate Megason loved it with a passion. She loved the excitement of big-city living. The restaurants and shopping, parks and cultural events. She loved the interesting mix of cultures that made Dallas one of the most diverse cities in the United States.
But like all big cities, Dallas had a dark side and more than its share of violent crime. Averaging over two hundred murders a year, the city was one of the nation’s most violent. As a Dallas County assistant district attorney, Kate took those statistics as a personal affront.
She’d graduated magna cum laude from the University of Texas at Austin. For her law degree she’d chosen Southern Methodist University over Northwestern. And at the ripe age of twenty-six, she’d passed the Texas State Bar exam and become a lawyer. That same year she landed a job with the Dallas County district attorney’s office and became one of the youngest ADAs in the county’s one-hundred-and-fifty-year history.
Kate believed staunchly in the criminal justice system. She believed just as staunchly in the judicial system to which she had devoted her professional life. She enjoyed the challenge of her work. She craved the satisfaction that came with knowing she’d put a dangerous criminal behind bars where he couldn’t hurt anyone else. She liked knowing she made a difference. Maybe even helped make the world a better place to live.
It was almost seven-thirty when she turned off Industrial Boulevard and swung her BMW into the parking garage of the Frank Crowley Courts Building in downtown Dallas. She entered the building and flashed her ID badge at the police officer stationed at the front entrance the way she had every day for the last two years.
“Morning Ms. Megason.”
“How’s it going, Sam?” she asked as she set her briefcase on the belt and walked through the metal detector. “LaShonda have that baby yet?”
He grinned. “Going to be any day now.”
Kate smiled back, liking both the routine and the man. “Number three?”
“Four.”
“Give her my best, will you?”
“Sure will. You have a nice day now.”
She picked up her briefcase. “You, too, Sam.”
Her Italian boots clicked smartly against the tile floor as she crossed to the bank of elevators and rode to the eleventh floor. The doors opened to a wide hall with tiled floors and walls covered with an industrial blue fabric some well-meaning interior designer had installed the year before when the offices were remodeled. Next to two double glass doors, a bronze wall plaque proclaimed the office of Mike Shelley, Dallas County district attorney.
Kate swiped her security card and stepped into the outer office. The familiar smells of paper dust, old books, and new carpeting greeted her as she passed through the main lobby. Even though the operator didn’t come in until eight, the switchboard was already lit up like a Christmas tree. It was going to be another wild day at the DA’s office.
Just the way she liked it.
Kate turned left and entered the small break room. After setting her briefcase on the table, she quickly made a pot of coffee, then picked up her briefcase and headed toward her own cubbyhole office at the end of the hall. She unlocked the door, shoved it open with a booted foot, and went directly to her desk. Pulling out her Palm Pilot, she checked her schedule for the day. Conference call at ten o’clock. Lunch at noon with one of her paralegals, who would be expecting a positive review and a raise and was going to get both. Court at two o’clock, where she would give her opening statement on a felony assault case. Back to the office in time to meet with a potential witness in a vehicular homicide case. By then it would be well after six o’clock. If her phone wasn’t ringing, she might just be able to get some work done.
Kate was a creature of habit and thrived on routine and the fast pace of her job. A workaholic by nature, she lived by her schedule and drove herself relentlessly. She was up before dawn and at the office until long after dark six days a week. Aside from the occasional dinner or lunch or happy hour with coworkers—or the occasional duty visit at her parents’ Highland Park home—she didn’t have much of a personal life. Kate preferred it that way.
The smell of dark roast wafted into her office, telling her the coffee had brewed. To save time, she dug out the case file she was working on and skimmed the first page as she headed for the break room. Ricky Joe Paulsen was a repeat offender with a cocaine habit and a penchant for violence. He’d gotten off easy twice in the past. Probation for possession of marijuana six years ago. Then a five-year sentence on a burglary conviction. He’d been released after only eighteen months due to prison overcrowding. A week after his release, he beat his girlfriend to within an inch of her life. Kate was going to do her utmost to make sure the son of a bitch didn’t kill someone the next time he lost his temper.
She poured coffee into a Lawyers Do It Better mug and carried it to her desk. She would outline her strategy this morning while her mind was fresh, then try to squeeze in the rest of her caseload between court and meetings.
Pulling a legal pad from her drawer, she scribbled the points she wanted to make in her opening statement. Repeat offender. Violent. Potential for extreme violence. No deals.
“Kate?”
She looked up to see District Attorney Mike Shelley standing at her office door, watching her as if she were his favorite child and had just ridden her bicycle without training wheels for the first time. The image made her smile. “You’re in early this morning,” she said.
“Says one workaholic to another.”
“I prefer to think of it as dedicated.”
“Sounds healthier if you put it that way. But if you’re angling for a raise . . .”
“I already got my raise.” Kate jotted a final note on the pad and set down her Mont Blanc. “And it was a good one. Thank you.”
“Make it last. Both the mayor and city manager are screaming about budget again.” Mike Shelley was a large man with direct, square features and a mouth that was too big for his face. He wore a custom black suit and the requisite conservative tie over a crisp white shirt. His graying hair gave him a distinguished air without making him look older. His forthright expression revealed little of what he was thinking. A trait Kate admired even though it made her just a little bit nervous.
“Can I see you in my office for a moment?”
Surprise rippled through her at the request, and it was quickly followed by curiosity tinged with a low-grade uneasiness. In the two years she’d been working for Mike, she’d learned his habits and preferences. Lunch meant a raise. Dinner meant a promotion. The conference room adjacent to his office was usually reserved for ass-chewings. The only time an ADA was called into the DA’s office was when something big was going do
wn.
She wondered if this was something big.
“Of course.” Closing the legal pad, she rose.
He smiled as if trying to put her at ease, but it didn’t work. Mike Shelley might have the teddy bear face of someone’s favorite uncle, but Kate knew a shark with very big teeth resided beneath his benevolent facade. He hadn’t gotten where he was by being a nice guy. At least not all the time.
“Sorry for the short notice,” he added. “I know you’re busy.”
“No problem.” After plucking a fresh legal pad from her drawer, she rounded her desk.
They walked side by side toward his office. “This shouldn’t take long.”
Several paralegals and administrative assistants had arrived to start their day, and Kate was keenly aware of the eyes following them as they passed by the break room and cubicles. The district attorney’s office was no different from other offices and had a healthy grapevine; it didn’t take much to get the tongues wagging.
Mike’s corner office was the largest on the eleventh floor and offered a stunning view of downtown Dallas. His rose-wood desk was huge and as glossy as a new car hot off the showroom floor. It was stacked with the requisite expanding legal folders and a smattering of photographs of his wife and three children. Kate knew most of what he did was political in nature. But she’d always thought Mike Shelley was too good an attorney to spend so much of his time smoothing feathers.
There were three other people already seated. Barbara Pasquale was a high-level ADA who’d been with the DA’s office for going on twenty years. Kate guessed her to be in her mid-fifties. She was attractive in a red power suit and conservative strand of pearls. She was sitting on Mike’s black leather sofa, a legal pad in her lap, her legs crossed. She made eye contact with Kate and gave a small nod in greeting.
The man sitting on the opposite end of the sofa was Alan Rosenberg, who was also a high-level ADA. Thin and balding, he had a boisterous personality and was one of the best lawyers Kate had ever met. Every time she heard him argue before a jury, she was invariably relieved that he worked for the DA and not the private sector because there would be a hell of a lot more felons on the street if he did.
“Alan,” she said with a nod. “Haven’t gone over to the Dark Side yet?”
He grinned. “The thought of facing you in court keeps me here.”
She snorted just enough to let him know she didn’t buy a word of it, and her gaze went to the third man sitting at the small conference table. Kate knew immediately he wasn’t a lawyer. He wore a store-bought suit that was too tight in the shoulders and a hideous tie with a stain in the center. He had steel-gray hair and jowls that hung like strips of meat off his face. But it was his direct stare that gave him away. She’d been a prosecutor long enough to spot a cop on sight, and this man had detective written all over him.
“Kate, thank you for meeting with us on such short notice.” Mike motioned toward the two ADAs seated on the sofa. “You know Alan and Barbara.”
“Of course.”
He motioned toward the man sitting at the table. “This is Detective Howard Bates with the Dallas PD.”
Kate nodded at the detective. “Hello.”
“Ms. Megason.”
“Okay.” Mike rubbed his hands together as if he were about to dig in to a hearty meal, then motioned toward the table. “Have a seat and we’ll get started.”
Kate wasn’t easily intimidated, but she didn’t like surprises, especially when it came to her job. She didn’t like the idea of walking into a high-level meeting without knowing the agenda. She had a sinking feeling she was the agenda.
Mike slid behind his desk, slipped his bifocals onto his nose, and picked up a file. “I’m sure you’re aware of the Bruton Ellis case.”
Kate took the chair opposite the detective. “The convenience store double murder.”
“The grand jury indicted on Friday. It’s an open-and-shut case. Two women gunned down. A mother of four and a grandmother with her first great-grandchild on the way. Two nice people with families just trying to make a living.” Mike looked at her over the tops of his glasses. “One of the women was sexually assaulted after she’d been shot in the back.”
Kate wasn’t exactly sure why he was telling her all of that. She’d heard of the case, but hadn’t followed it closely. She didn’t know the particulars. She hadn’t known about the sexual assault. But at some point her heart had begun to pound.
The DA continued. “Ellis is a repeat offender. Robbery. Drugs. Assault. He had enough crystal meth in his system at the time of his arrest to send an elephant to the moon. Shot out the security camera, but he didn’t know there was a second camera, so the entire crime was caught on video.”
“That will definitely help convict,” Kate said, her lawyer’s perspective coming automatically.
“We’re counting on it.” Mike took off his glasses. “I want you to prosecute the case.”
Excitement hit her blood like a mainlined drug, but she didn’t let herself react. Most cases with a true bill of indictment handed down from the grand jury were randomly put on the docket. Prosecutors were assigned according to district. Occasionally a prosecutor would be handpicked to handle a specific case, but the practice was unusual.
“Why me?”
“Several reasons, actually. First and foremost you’re a damn good prosecutor. You’re thorough. Low-key. Juries love you.” He smiled. “Defense attorneys want to marry you. Judges want to adopt you as their child. I think this will be good experience for you, Kate. And I think you’ll be able to get a conviction.”
She was flattered. But there was more coming. She could see it in his eyes. She could see it in the faces of the other people in the room. That she didn’t know what it was gave her a prickly sensation on the back of her neck.
“This defendant is a repeat offender, Kate. He committed a double murder and a rape while in the commission of a felony.”
Realization flashed. The quiver of nerves that followed was powerful enough to make her hands shake. “You want me to try it as a capital case?”
Mike nodded, then looked at each of the other people in the room. “The three of us met over the weekend and discussed the case at length. We’ve got legal sufficiency and adherence to statutes any way you cut it.” He looked at the detective. “We looked at the evidence. The statutes of the State of Texas are clear. We believe the cold brutality of this crime calls for the most severe punishment applicable by law.”
Kate didn’t know what to say. It would be her first capital case. The kind of case most young prosecutors would give their right hand to try. It was the kind of case up-and-coming ADAs dreamed of. The kind of case that could make a career. Or put a young prosecutor on the fast track to a promotion down the road.
But while the challenge of prosecuting her first capital case appealed to her immensely, she couldn’t help but wonder why Mike had hand picked her when there were a half dozen other prosecutors in his office with more experience.
Leaning back in his black leather chair, Mike Shelley fiddled with his glasses, but his gaze never left hers. “Next year is an election year. A win would look good on my record. And it could help your own career immensely.”
Kate had never been one to talk about her dreams. She liked to keep them close to her chest, in case she fell flat on her face. But she was ambitious, and Mike knew it.
“I can give you until tomorrow morning to make up your mind,” he added.
“That won’t be necessary,” she said. “I’ll take the case.”
MONDAY, JANUARY 23, 8:58 A.M.
The sun warmed his back as he sat at the bistro table and waited for her to arrive. The aromas of smoked fish and grilling vegetables filled the air. The café was crowded with the noontime business crowd, couples having lunch, students laughing over hafuch, the local version of cappuccino. The leaves of the olive trees that grew along the boulevard shimmered silver and green in the breeze coming in off the sea.
&nb
sp; It had been two days since they’d been together, and he couldn’t wait to see her. He couldn’t wait to see her smile. To touch her skin. To hear her voice and the music of her laughter.
Setting his hand over the tiny velvet box in his pocket, he grinned like an idiot. The diamond wasn’t much—less than half a karat and flawed to boot—but he knew it wouldn’t matter. She was going to say yes. And when she did, he was going to be the happiest man in the world.
His heart swelled with pleasure and anticipation when he spotted her on the other side of the café. Smiling, he waved and motioned her over. “Gittel!”
She met his smile with a dazzling one of her own and waved back. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she worked her way around the smattering of tables and colorful umbrellas. She was wearing a pale blue dress with matching sandals. Her legs were bare and sexy, and she was so lovely it hurt just to look at her. And he wondered what he’d done to deserve her in his life.
He’d already told his parents he was going to marry her. It didn’t matter that she was from a wealthy Israeli family and he was a hell-raising Catholic boy from Texas. They were in love and he knew with an optimism he’d never before experienced that everything would work out as long as they were together.
“Frank!” Waving her arms, she laughed as the crowd jostled her about. “Sorry I’m late!”
He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her. A need that was part emotional, part sexual sent him to his feet. He wanted to cross to her, put his arms around her, and take her down right there on the cobblestone walk.
For an instant time stood still. He watched her approach, liking the way the fabric swept over her body. He felt the warmth of the sun on his back. He heard the din of voices punctuated by the traffic that ran along the thoroughfare. Anticipation pumped through him with every step she took, with every beat of his heart. So much to look forward to . . .
The blast struck him like a speeding, burning car. One moment he was standing, the next he was airborne and careening through space. Agony ripped through his lower body as a thousand missiles penetrated skin and muscle and bone. Pain tore through the right side of his head as his eardrum burst. His world went silent and white, and he was tumbling in a kaleidoscope of shock and pain and confusion.
Dead Reckoning Page 2