Dead Reckoning (6 page)

Kate put a line through his name, then looked at her team. “We’ve got a lot to go over this morning, so I’ll catch Mr. Matrone up on things later.”

“That’s code for he’s toast,” David said under his breath.

Several people snickered. Kate shot David a pointed frown, then looked down at her notes. “Ellis allegedly committed a double murder and sexual assault while in the commission of an armed robbery.” She removed four neat folders from her briefcase and passed them out as she spoke. “The grand jury has already handed down a true bill of indictment. Arraignment is tomorrow.”

She looked around the room. “We will be trying this as a capital case, so if any of you receive any inquiries from the media—no matter how casual that inquiry may appear—you are to refer them to our public information office. I’ve prepared a folder for each of you containing an agenda for this morning’s meeting, contact information for all of us, including the number and e-mail address of the lead detective working the case. Also enclosed is the timeline set forth for the case by District Attorney Mike Shelley. I’d like to adhere to this timeline as closely as possible. I’ve also included copies of police reports, crime scene photographs, and a manifest of evidence at DPD.”

Once again seating herself at the table, she reached into her briefcase and put on her reading glasses. “Regarding evidence, Dallas PD has maintained a chain of custody. No evidence will come to this office. If we need to see something, we will drive over to the evidence cage and sign in, making sure we have a police officer with us at all times. We don’t want some defense attorney trying to get evidence tossed because one of us contaminated it. We’re going to prosecute this case by the book. And we’re going to get our conviction.”

“Do we know yet who the defense is going to be?”

Kate nodded. “Aaron Napier.”

David made a dramatic sound and reacted as if he’d been punched. “He’s good.”

“So are we,” Kate countered. “We’ve got a solid case and the evidence to back it up.” She looked around the room. “This was a brutal, cold-blooded crime. It’s important to remember that the two victims were people. Two women who were mothers with children and grandchildren. They had lives and people who loved them. They didn’t deserve to get gunned down like animals.”

Kate picked up the videotape. She’d wanted to view it in the privacy of her office before watching it with her team. But Detective Bates hadn’t gotten it to her until just a few minutes ago. She was anxious to see it.

“The video we are about to watch is from the Snack and Gas security camera.” She passed the tape to Liz.

Liz Gordon inserted the tape, dimmed the lights, then hit a button on the VCR. The room went silent as the grainy black-and-white video brought the pull-down screen to life. Like most security-camera video, the quality was poor. One of the victims was off camera. But Evangeline Worth was standing behind the counter when Bruton Ellis walked into the store. Watching her, it was clear the young mother of four had had no idea that these were the last moments of her life.

Kate had seen plenty of violence in the years she’d worked in the DA’s office. She was no stranger to crime scenes or crime-scene photographs or witness accounts of violence. She no longer outwardly flinched at the inhumanities mankind could inflict upon itself. But deep inside, she recoiled with aversion when Ellis gunned down first Irma Trevino, then Evangeline Worth. That aversion augmented into revulsion when he unzipped his fly, got down on his knees, and took her from behind like an animal.

Vaguely Kate was aware of her team members shifting uncomfortably in their chairs, and she was suddenly very glad the lights had been dimmed. She could feel the old rage building inside her, like a tumor festering and swelling until she thought she would burst from the pressure.

She knew what it was like to be a victim. She knew what it was like to have choice and dignity stripped away. She knew what it was like to be hurt and terrified and humiliated. To be the object of another’s savage cruelty and helpless to stop it.

Kate jolted when the tape played out. Looking quickly around, she pulled her thoughts back from a place she rarely let them venture. Rising, she turned off the VCR, then turned to her team. “My apologies. I didn’t know the tape was quite so graphic.”

“It’s definitely going to help convict him,” David Perrine said.

“There’s no jury in the world that won’t respond to that,” Marissa Riley added.

Kate continued. “The arraignment is this afternoon. Bruton Ellis will be formally charged with two counts of first degree murder, one count of sexual assault, and one count of aggravated robbery. It is our job to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that this man did, indeed, commit these atrocious crimes.”

Picking up her legal pad, she began to pace, her mind already leaping ahead to all of the things that needed to be done. “Marissa, I want documents filed this morning. Get us on the docket so we can move forward as quickly as possible after the arraignment. Call the Dallas PD Evidence room and the lead detective and let him know I’ll be there this afternoon to review evidence. I’ll also want a copy of the interview tape between the detectives and the subject. I want copies of reports from officers on the scene. All by this afternoon.”

“You got it,” the junior ADA said.

Kate glanced at her investigator. “David, I want a comprehensive background check on Bruton Ellis. I want arrest records. Convictions. Time served. I want to know if he was ever treated for substance abuse or mental illness. I want to know about his friends and family. I want to know what brand of toothpaste he uses. We don’t want any surprises. And I want all this information yesterday.”

“Hopping into my time machine as we speak.” Gathering his coffee cup and notes, he rose.

“Liz, get me everything you can on the convenience store. I want to know if it is corporately owned or a franchise. I want to know if it has been hit before. I want a profile of both the corporation and, if it’s a franchise, the franchisee of record—”

Kate bit off the words when the conference room door swung open. The room went silent when a tall man in a nicely cut charcoal suit entered. She knew it was crazy, but for a bizarre instant she felt as if she were in danger. Like maybe this man had snapped and at any moment was going to pull out a gun and start shooting people. He had an edgy, unpredictable look about him. A look that told anyone with a brain to tread carefully.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

A quiver of something she couldn’t quite identify went through her when his gaze fastened on hers. His eyes were an unusual shade that wasn’t quite brown and not quite green. It was an earthy shade that reminded her of the deep woods of East Texas. Green that faded to black as night descended and the forest became one with the shadows.

Kate had dealt with people of all walks of life in the two years she’d worked in the DA’s office. Experience had taught her to recognize certain types of people by the way they looked, their mannerisms, the emotions and thoughts she read on their faces and in their eyes. But nothing had prepared her for what she saw when she peered into the disturbing depths of this man’s eyes. He had the look of a person who had seen a lot of things, and she knew instinctively that some of those things had been ugly, that they’d disturbed him in some deep and profound way.

“Sorry I’m late.” Looking appropriately repentant, he closed the door silently behind him, limped to the conference table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

Several seconds ticked by before it dawned on her who he was. Her missing investigator, Frank Matrone. Kate couldn’t believe he had the audacity to walk in now, some twenty minutes after the meeting had begun. She’d purposefully moved the sign on the conference room door to the “In Use” position so he wouldn’t walk in late. There was an unwritten rule in the DA’s office that once that sign was in place, you didn’t cross the threshold. Evidently this man didn’t do well with rules. That was fine with Kate. She’d never done well with subtle. She sure as hell wasn’t shy about getting in someone’s face when she needed to.

“Mr. Matrone, I’m afraid this meeting is already in progress. I’m assuming you didn’t see the sign on the conference room door.”

Several snickers sounded around the table, but Kate ignored them.

“I saw the sign.” He met her gaze levelly, and once again she was reminded of the dark Texas woods. After dark. When the wild animals came out. “Mike Shelley told me I needed to be here.”

Kate could tell by the hard sheen in his eyes that the good-old-boy Texas drawl wasn’t nearly as friendly as it sounded. She didn’t miss the resentment buried in the depths of that hard gaze. She’d done her homework. She knew this man had once been a detective with the Dallas PD. She also knew he’d been a military reservist and that he’d been sent to the Middle East. He’d been badly injured, and when he came back he hadn’t been able to resume his career with the Dallas PD. Kate had been around enough to know how to read between the lines. She figured some high-ranking individual within the Dallas PD had pulled some strings and gotten him a job with the DA’s office. And she knew this man was not happy about the perceived demotion. She saw bad attitude written all over him in big, bold letters. From the way he sprawled in that chair. To the tardiness of his arrival. The lack of paper and pen. His total disregard of the rules.

Kate admired the men and women who’d put their lives on hold to serve their country. But her admiration didn’t extend to vets who took advantage of their status—or had a chip on their shoulders. This was the biggest case of her career, and she wasn’t going to tolerate anything less than one hundred and ten percent. If Frank Matrone didn’t want to be here, she didn’t want him.

“That’s all I’ve got this morning.” Kate looked at the rest of her team and motioned toward the door. “My home and cell numbers are in the file along with my e-mail addresses. If you need to talk about the case, please don’t hesitate to call me any time. Until this case goes to trial, I am available day or night.”

At that, the participants began to gather their materials. Frank Matrone sat sprawled in the chair, staring at her, looking like a bored teenager who’d been asked to stay for detention.

“Mr. Matrone, you can go.” She motioned toward David Perrine’s retreating form. “I’ve already been assigned an investigator, but thank you for coming.”

Giving him a cool smile, she began stacking her notes into her briefcase. Vaguely she was aware of her team filing from the room. Of Frank Matrone scooting his chair back, rising slowly, and starting toward her. She didn’t look at him when he reached her and hoped he would realize he’d been dismissed. But Frank Matrone evidently wasn’t ready to be dismissed.

Kate could feel the power of his stare on her back as she turned and popped the tape from the VCR. When her meeting notes and files were neatly stowed, she looked up and met his gaze. “Is there something on your mind?”

“Mike Shelley assigned me to this case,” he said. “This is where I need to be. Maybe you could fill me in on what was covered in the meeting.”

Feeling the initial fingers of anger pressing into her, she snapped her briefcase closed and rose. “Since you don’t do well with subtle, Mr. Matrone, I’ll just come right out and say it. You were late. You didn’t call. You didn’t offer a reasonable excuse. You came to the meeting totally unprepared. I already have an investigator. Therefore, I do not need you. Is that clear enough for you?”

“Look, if this is about my being late—”

She added dense to the list of things she didn’t like about him. Where the hell did Mike Shelley find this guy? “This is about your attitude.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my attitude.”

Kate laughed, but she could feel her temper winding up. Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself back, but only a little. There were times when honest emotion spoke better than calm. Particularly when dealing with thick-skulled ex-cops. “You skulk in here like some kind of angry tenth grader and expect me to fall all over myself accommodating you because you decided to grace us with your presence. Well, I’m sorry if this comes as a surprise to you, but I don’t operate that way. This is my case, and I plan to win it. Nothing personal, but I don’t think you have anything to offer this team. You can tell Mike Shelley that or I will. Do you have any questions?”

FOUR

TUESDAY, JANUARY 24, 9:25 A.M.

Frank might’ve only been with the DA’s office for two days, but he’d heard all about the infamous Kate Megason. She was a favorite topic among the male attorneys during happy hour when the booze was flowing and tongues were dangerously loose. He knew she was a pushy, uptight, type-A personality with a capital letter and double underscore on every single one of those adjectives. He’d even heard her name mentioned a few times back when he’d been a cop. Only cops weren’t quite so politically correct and called her things like hard-driving, big-mouthed, ball-breaking bitch.

Frank had figured he could deal with that, since many of those same adjectives could be used to describe him. Well, except for the bitch part, anyway. Frank’s personality flaws went far beyond bitch. Just ask his former boss, Dallas PD Chief of Detectives Manolo Blanco.

But while his attitude sucked and his life was totally fucked at the moment, Frank still considered himself a professional, even if he was hanging on to that belief by the skin of his teeth. When Mike Shelley had told him he would be working for Kate Megason, Frank hadn’t even blinked. He might have a short fuse these days, but he wasn’t so wigged out that he was going to blow the best opportunity he’d had since returning from the Middle East. Having spent the last year in his own private hell, dealing with some mean-spirited, self-absorbed, ambitious, she-bitch lawyer would be a walk in the park.

Or so he’d thought. Having just received a thorough verbal trouncing that would put any drill sergeant to shame, he wasn’t so sure.