Chapter 2
Linda
Well, that was a lie, but Kyle didn’t need to know that. I turned on my heels and walked away with a dignified step. I gripped my briefcase tight in my hand, my knuckles turning white. I was shaking all over, but I wasn’t about to let anyone see that.
Out in the hall, I finally let out a sigh of relief. I leaned against the wall, running my fingers through my hair. Like always, my curls were horribly frizzy and I cursed myself for not using hairspray that morning.
“Miss Harris, how did it go in there?” My personal assistant, Jeremy, showed up, a bundle of papers in his arms.
“Fine, just fine.” I walked past him, keeping my head high. “The hearing starts in an hour, we’ll have to get everything sorted before that.” Jeremy nodded, grabbing my briefcase and carrying it for me. “Have you gotten those profiles for me yet?”
“Yes, ma’am. They’re all right here.”
“Perfect.” We were already outside, where Jeremy had parked the car against the curb. He opened the door for me.
“Here you are.” He handed me the papers and I took them, closing the door to stop him from staring at me. Jeremy was a hard worker, but he was awkward at times. He was like a little gnat that always hung around for too long. “To the courthouse, correct?” He asked once he got behind the wheel.
“Yes. Thank you.” I sunk into the leather seat and started to go through the profiles Jeremy had printed out.
The first one I looked at was Kyle’s. He was the leader of the Blackbirds, a long-standing motorcycle club. He had inherited the leadership from his father, Keith Johnstone. The Blackbirds frequented the Black Rock Bar on the east side of town and were peaceful, for the most part.
I frowned, reading the description. Maybe there was some truth to Kyle’s words, but that didn’t make sense. I was sure he was leaving something out. Why would Ross’ own men kill him? I just wasn’t prepared to believe that. These men were supposed to uphold honor and comradery and yet, Ross had been shot in the back… It just didn’t make sense.
I flipped the page, turning to Ross McArdle. He was the leader of the Iron Horses, an equally as respectable motorcycle club. He had taken the position by force twenty years ago when he had landed the previous leader into a coma. The charges against him were dropped by the family and he was never taken to court. The Iron Horses frequented Patty’s Pub on the west side. At least one member of the Iron Horses was arrested a month.
“Hmm…” I twirled my pen in my fingers.
“What is it, Miss Harris?”
“Nothing.” I dismissed Jeremy, flipping through the case files. Ross McArdle had been killed in the city center. It didn’t seem likely that an intrusion on turf was the motive… I shook my head. There had to be something more to this. Then again, if I tried to figure out every gang feud in the city, I would quickly go crazy. It was better to pick my battles and this wasn’t one I was prepared to fight.
***
The prosecutor on the case was one of my biggest enemies: George Pollock.
“What a pleasure. I didn’t know you were working on this case.” He grinned, shaking my hand as we approached the bench together.
“I didn’t realize I’d be working with you either.” I tried my best to remain civil, but I hated this guy’s guts. When I first became a lawyer, he kept roasting me to the point where I thought I would give up my career.
“Well, best of luck.” The sarcasm in his voice shot right through my soul. I ground my teeth together to keep from snapping at him.
From the bench, the judge looked down at us. She was elderly, but a notoriously ruthless judge. She fixed her glasses, pushing them up the bridge of her nose. “Miss Harris, what do you plea?”
“My client pleads guilty and we’re asking for a $50,000 bail agreement.”
“$50,000?” George glanced at me. “For one of the most wanted men in the city?”
“Kyle Johnstone may be the leader of the Blackbirds, but he doesn’t have any major felonies on his record. He has never been charged with murder.”
“And what makes you think it would be a good idea to let a murderer run free?” George questioned. “$200,000 bail.”
“That’s excessive, Mr. Pollock.” I turned to the judge. “Your honor, this is a feud between two motorcycle clubs. Their rivalry has been going on for generations and as long as violence doesn’t spill over into civil territory –”
“Are you suggesting that the brutal murder of a rival member, or anyone else for that matter, is okay?” I ground my teeth. George was really getting under my skin.
“No. But as a first-time offender, Mr. Johnstone deserves a bail sentence. Besides, there’s no solid evidence against him. All you have is a bullet casing found at the scene of the crime. No fingerprints or DNA. There’s nothing to pin him with the crime besides the accusations of the rival gang.”
“But your client pleads guilty.”
“Only to save himself from a court trial that would convict him without a fair process. You know people here hate the Blackbirds as well as the Iron Horses. There would be no way of getting an unbiased jury.”
The judge suddenly slammed her gavel down. “I’m setting the bail to $500,000. If it is not paid within 30 days, then Mr. Johnstone will face ten years in jail for manslaughter.”
The courtroom went silent and I felt my blood boil as I noticed George’s smirk out of the corner of my eye. Without another word, I left, feeling defeated.