Dead Reckoning (3 page)

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.

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.

He looked around wildly. A patch of blue snagged his eye. He recognized the fabric.
Gittel,
he thought, and his heart began to hammer when he realized she wasn’t moving. Groaning in pain, choking on smoke, he began to crawl toward her, dragging his injured leg.

No!

Frank Matrone sat up abruptly, his heart pounding, his mind raging at the horrors trapped inside it. He could hear himself breathing hard. Feel the cold slick of sweat covering his body. The scream in his throat receding back into its deep, black hole where a thousand more lay in waiting.

He jolted when a knock sounded at the door. Rubbing his hand over a day’s growth of beard, he threw his legs over the side of his bed and stood. Pain streaked up his left leg and exploded brilliant and red inside his head.

“Goddamn it.” Face contorted, he sat down hard on the bed and waited for the muscle cramp to pass.

The bell rang four times in quick succession, an annoying buzz that drilled a hole straight to his brain, and he wanted to kill the bastard standing in the hall, gleefully pressing the button.