Chapter 23

Tony

 

It was hard leaving her the next morning but Jaime and I had a date with a representing attorney at Reardon, Colfax & Price. Not one of the big men themselves, obviously we didn’t warrant any of their time, but still, we wanted everything of a threatening nature that’d been logged against poor Chrissy to see if we could get a lead on our guy between now and her grand jury testimony.

“You have a warrant for that, I’m sure…” the gentleman was saying and I swear I heard a record needle scratching harshly across some vinyl. Jaime and I exchanged a look and apparently I wasn’t crazy and my partner had heard it too.

“Excuse me?” Jaime asked.

“A warrant for those files,” the lawyer repeated and I blinked.

“Seriously?” I asked. “You don’t want to help Chrissy out and just cooperate?”

“It is Reardon, Colfax & Price’s policy when it comes to police matters that we do not release any files concerning any employee without a proper warrant.”

“You’re serious,” Jaime said and sounded incredulous. I was already on it, phone pressed to my ear, waiting for it to ring through.

“Parnell,” Yale answered on the second ring.

“You’re not going to believe this,” I said.

“Try me, I bet you I will,” he shot back.

“I need a warrant for Reardon, Colfax & Price to collect evidence in the Franco case.”

“Yeah, see, I told you. I’m not surprised. Give me the specifications and I’ll see what I can do. Judge Holcomb hates that they do this and will generally sign just about anything just to be a pain in their ass right back for wasting the court’s time.”

“You got a fax number or email address for this?” I asked, and was hoping they’d at least cough that up to save me and Jaime from having to go all the way down to the courthouse and come back. Like I would leave, as it was, I couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t destroy evidence in our absence, these fuckers were acting hella shady.

The lawyer they’d sent to deal with us, Mr. Darnell Pritchard, plucked a business card off the reception desk and handed it to me.

“Yeah, Yale, you still there?”

“I’m here, almost done typing this bad boy up.”

“The personal touch, I like it. Anyways, you can email the finished product to Reardon, Colfax & Price directly to reception at R C and, and is spelled out, not the symbol then P dot com.” He read the email back to me and I confirmed.

“Okay, gotta run if I’m going to catch Judge Holcomb.”

“Copy that, thank you.” I ended the call.

“You are more than welcome to wait, detectives, however, typically warrants do take some time.” Mr. Pritchard smiled and it wasn’t terribly friendly. I shook my head and couldn’t help myself.

I asked, “Doesn’t this place give a… care about any of its employees? I mean, one of your attorney’s was shot, don’t you want to help her any way you can?”

“Yes, Detective McCormick, I do, but it’s the firm’s policy that all records and files, employees or otherwise must be obtained through the proper legal channels.”

Interesting, he was the firm’s mouthpiece on this one, but he didn’t like or agree with them or their policy on this.

“No worries, son,” Jaime told the lawyer. “You’ll get your warrant.”

I was kind of speechless to be honest. I’d never seen a law firm be so reluctant to help one of their own before, policy or not.

It was a record, even for us on how fast that warrant came through. Less than thirty minutes and the receptionist looked up and said, surprised, “It’s here,” and the printer behind her started spitting out pages. Gotta love modern tech for some things.

She handed the pages to Mr. Pritchard who smiled and said, “I’ll have those boxes to you in just a few moments, if you’ll please have a seat.”

Boxes? Jaime mouthed at me and my heart kind of sank. Boxes meant plural, which meant a whole lot of threats because that was the scope of the warrant, any and all messages of a threatening nature addressed towards one Christina Marie Franco. Of course, that was unless Yale had snuck anything else in there.

Maybe ten or fifteen minutes later here came Pritchard with some paralegals dogging his steps. The two paralegals held three loaded Banker’s file boxes between them and held them out to me and Jaime.

“There you are detectives,” Pritchard said, hands in his pockets. I took two while Jaime took the one.

“Much obliged,” Jaime said sarcastically.

“Best of luck, Chrissy is one of the good ones,” Pritchard said and he came forward and lifted the top box off of my stack of two. “In fact, let me help you to your car with this. It looks heavy.”

“That would be much appreciated,” I told him. In the elevator, he came clean with what he really wanted to say.

“Look, I meant what I said about Chrissy being one of the good ones. She really is one of the best. However, she is no longer considered an asset to the firm after what’s happened to her. Reardon, Colfax & Price have a very precise set of criteria you must live up to. Chrissy, injured like she is? She can no longer fulfill that criteria and so they’ve already replaced her with someone who can. It’s the way a firm like this works. You’re only as valuable as how much you add to their bottom line.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Jaime said shaking his head.

“This firm doesn’t believe in people, Detective. Only money. She deserves better than what they’ve given her. She needs well clear of this place.”

“How could she not know about all of this?” Jaime asked holding up his box for emphasis.

“The firm has minimum wage lackeys open all the mail and only put through what they consider pertinent to a specific lawyer’s current cases. They don’t believe in telling their lawyers when things like this come through believing it cuts productivity. Believe me, I was as shocked as you are when we found out.”

“What about you?” I asked.

“Looking for a new job somewhere else, myself. A lot of the lawyers who have put any kind of time in here are after some of the things we’ve heard and seen since Chrissy was attacked.”

“Sounds like Reardon, Colfax & Price has a mutiny on its hands.”

The elevator made its final descent and hit the floor we were parked on, bumping gently to a stop.

“You’re not far off, Detective. Good luck, I mean that.”

The doors of the elevator hushed open and he put the box he carried back on top of mine. Jaime and I went to our cruiser and put the boxes in the back seat.

“I’m stopping for coffee on the way back in,” he said.

“Yeah, anything but that swill back at the station. This looks like it’s gonna take us all night.”

“No sense in replacing one bad taste with another,” he said, adding, “hopefully something shakes loose.”

“Hopefully,” I agreed.

 

***

 

We spent the next eleven hours poring over everything in the boxes and wasn’t that an epic shit show? There were so many threats ranging from rape, to dismemberment, to death there was no telling how long this had been going on. I set down the last one and pressed fingers into my eye sockets, thoroughly disturbed and disgusted with mankind.

I heard Jaime lean back in his seat and let out a gusty sigh, “There’s a few years of this shit here,” he complained.

“I realize that, man.”

“How did she not know this was going on?”

“I honestly don’t know but I’m pretty sure if she did know she’d have taken some kind of security measures a long time ago.” I shook my head incredulous.

Jaime huffed a sort of ‘huh,’ and leaned forward bracing his elbows on the edge of his desk and looking at me over his clasped hands, one over the other. “What’re you gonna tell her?” he asked staring at me with a piercing gaze.

I shook my head, “The only thing I can tell her; the truth.”

“I don’t envy you, partner. Here’s to hoping she’s not the kind to shoot the messenger.”

I shook my head, “Not Chrissy.”

“Sound mighty sure of that.”

“Ah, yeah. Yeah I do.”

Jaime’s bushy eyebrows shot up into his hairline and his mouth turned down. He shook his head and pushed back from his desk.

“Well, this was a waste of fuckin’ time.”

“Hey, you never know until you try,” I said picking up one of the cards that’d come with the most recent flowers sent to her job. Same handwriting as the card from the hospital, so same guy. We had a few samples of earlier threats set aside, the handwriting eerily similar, but until we could get any kind of analysis done, there was no confirmation that it was the same guy. Still, one letter in particular had caught my eye and I knew in my gut it was the same bozo.

“I’m headed home, partner. I suggest you do the same,” Jaime said getting up and stretching.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will,” but I didn’t move right away. There was a lot of unresolved shit spilled across our desks and I didn’t like it. I went over the letter again, the dude bitching about how Chrissy had ruined his life and how payback was going to be a bitch. That if he couldn’t keep his job, his wife, and his kids, Chrissy wasn’t going to keep her job either, and how he’d see to it she never got the chance to have any of the rest.

The tone of the letter was pissed and I wondered what the hell my girl could have done to earn someone’s just sheer, unadulterated hatred. I mean, I couldn’t reconcile any of her actions as garnering this kind of reaction, but in this case, clearly something had happened.

I took my time picking up and took these new threats with me, figuring maybe she could shed some more light on this particular nutbag. Maybe something would spark in her memory, or shake loose. We were still going to go through with the sting. In fact, Yale had made his pretty speech to the news just in time for the six o’clock airing. I might be able to catch the replay on the eleven o’clock news if I hustled.

I changed and went down to my bike. The ride home was a cleansing one, even though I dreaded talking about this shit with Chrissy. Not because I didn’t think she could handle it or that she’d be angry with me for bringing it up, but more because I was getting real sick of watching her hurt.

I went in through the garage, but when I emerged through the side door into the living room, it was to the soft wavering blue glow of the television and little else. Chrissy was on the couch, arm in her sling, one leg curled under her and one of the throw pillows in her lap. Roscoe looked up lazily from said pillow as Chrissy absently petted him, her attention rapt on the news.

Yale was standing front and center at the podium used for press briefings at the DA’s office, flashbulbs going off in his face as reporters shouted questions.

“Ms. Franco will be under police protection the entire time, she will be relocated from the location she is in to the Regency Hyatt where she will enjoy an evening courtesy of Indigo City taxpayer dollars in the company of the finest police protection Indigo City has to offer. She will be safe, and as yet has not agreed to, nor is willing to give members of the media an interview, so please, don’t bother.”

“God, I sound like such a bitch when he puts it that way.”

“Eh, he’s just doing his job, precious. You won’t be there. You’ll be safe at the real hotel used by witnesses.”

“I know, still, you will be there, so I’ll worry just the same, thanks.” She dragged her eyes off of Yale and looked up at me. “Something happened with your new case?” she asked.

“Something happened with yours, actually. Jaime and I followed a hunch, went by the firm you work for to collect those cards that came with the flowers you showed us.

“Ah, and?”

“Baby, I don’t know how to tell you this, but they had three boxes of threats against you dating back something like four years.”

“What?” She stopped petting Roscoe, mid-stroke. He rolled on his back and attacked her hand playfully and she snapped back to reality and jerked her hand to safety. Put out, my fuzzy little man jumped down.

“Whoever sent those emails was looking out for you, babe, because I don’t think they were supposed to. We talked to a lawyer with the firm, Darnell Pritchard…”

“I know Darnell,” she said faintly.

“He says that just about every lawyer receives threats, but the firm doesn’t say anything about it. Something about cutting into productivity or some shit.”

“I had no idea…” she said and I could see the horror of the implications seeping into her dark eyes the more she ran through scenarios in her head. I’d already thought about everything she was thinking and then some, except I had a better idea of just how fucked up people could be to each other.

“Tony… what did you find?”

I dropped onto the couch beside her and pulled the notes and the letter out of the inside pocket of my jacket and smoothed them out through their evidence bags.

“These are the notes that came with the flowers. This, I think is the first one. Does it bring anything up? Spark a memory or something?”

She took them with trembling fingers and said, “Turn on a light for me?”

I got up and obliged her, switching on the corner lamp, turning the halogen up until it was bright enough to see by, turning it up slowly so our eyes could adjust. She pored over the letter in her hands and turned it over to look at the envelope it’d come in, conveniently with no return address. She wasn’t looking for one, though. She was looking at the postal mark.

She got up abruptly and tossed the pillow in her lap aside, going toward the kitchen. I followed her, getting my hopes up. She was like a dog on the scent and I was hoping whatever had her going would pan out into something, anything, to catch this son of a bitch.

Come on, baby. Give us a name, give us a face; let’s do this. I thought at her.

She booted up her laptop, and while that was trying to get to where she could do something she picked up her phone and scrolled through her calendar.

“I was wrapping up the Sunderland case back then, my client, Robert Sunderland was accused of killing a thirteen-year-old girl. A hit and run, the police thought he was drunk.”

“Wasn’t one of mine,” I mused dropping into a chair near her. She shook her head and said, “No it wasn’t intentional, he was up on vehicular manslaughter charges, it was a DUI so it went through the traffic division, I think. Their case was pretty good.” Her laptop finished booting and she let her fingers walk across the keys one handed, chicken pecking in her password with her first three fingers.

She messed around with her mouse and clicked through screens and said, “I won the case, I’m just looking for the name.”

“How’d you win? Sounds like it was pretty cut and dried.”

“I played reasonable doubt. Gave the jury an alternate chain of events to follow.”

“Shit, you painted one guy up one side and down the other, made him look good for it.”

She sat back in her seat heavily and said, “Yeah…”

“Who?” I demanded and she looked at me.

“Please don’t hate me…” she said and I shook my head.

I got up and bent, kissing her forehead and said against it, “Never, but I need to know who, precious.”

“His name was Curtis Wetmore, and he was a friend of my client’s. He was at the same bar, and in the car… I presented that there was no proof which of them was driving at the time of the accident, it was Wetmore’s car. Oh my god… Tony, what did I do?”

“You did your job, honey.”

“But did I really wreck this man’s life over this?”

“No babe, he did. He and his buddy both did when they got into that car drunk.”

She covered her face with her hand and I held her tight, “I’ve got you.”

“Maybe this is Karma,” she said and I let her go so I could grab my phone out of my pocket and call it in.

“I don’t think so, not even Karma is this big of a bitch. I think you might want to start looking for a civil attorney, though. Your firm has got some balls…”

“Do you think they’re criminally negligent?” she asked.

“Ask Yale, that’s more his department,” I said shortly as someone picked up on the other end of the line. “Yeah, hey this is Detective Tony McCormick out of the 12th, I need an APB put out on a Curtis Wetmore, white male, approximately five foot nine, slender build, favors a gray hoodie under a black jacket. Do what you can to get me his last known address, I’m going to call the DA’s office, see what I can do about getting a warrant. Text it to me as soon as you can?”

“Right away Detective,” the dispatcher on the other end of the line said.

“That’s what I love about you, Three-Five-One. You’re always so helpful.”

“Aw, thanks!” She replied and I ended the call. We didn’t know dispatchers by name, just number. It was department policy.

“What happens now?” Chrissy asked.

“Now, we wait for the info to come through, we head to his last known and start kicking over rocks.”

She nodded, and swallowed hard, still working on coming to grips with maybe having some answers. We wouldn’t know for sure unless we got the guy.

“Yale,” I said when he picked up. “I need a warrant.”

“What for?” he demanded sleepily and I laid it out for him.

“APB is good enough,” he said with a yawn. “I hate to break it to you, Tony but the sting is going to be our best shot at this guy and actually being able to put him away for any sort of decent amount of time.”

“Shit,” I muttered, knowing he was right.

“It’s just a couple more days. If your APB gets him, fine, but if it doesn’t and he makes a move…”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I conceded.

“Look, I know you want her safe, we all do. She’s had a rough row to hoe, and I’m glad you guys may have figured it out at this point, but right now, all we can put this guy up on is the attempt at the hospital which is circumstantial at best, he could argue his way out of it, even with my ID. If you want him dead to rights –”

“You’ve made your point, counselor.” I knew my tone was unfriendly, but all I could do was stare at Chrissy who was staring at her laptop screen blankly. Her eyes not really seeing what was in front of her. She was way too far inside her own head and I hated that. I hated that we knew, but that we couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

“Hold your woman, make her feel safe and I’ll get with you in the morning,” he said softly.

“Thanks for not taking it personal,” I said.

“Seen the way you look at each other, bro… it’s as personal as it gets, I just know you’ve got no beef with me.”

“Listen to you trying to talk all hood.”

“Man, fuck you.”

“Night,” I said and couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Night, asshole.”

He ended the call on me and I knelt down by Chrissy.

“We follow the plan?” she asked and a grim determination steeling across her features.

“We follow the plan.”

I called back into dispatch to modify the instructions to go along with the APB to tail but not to engage, then I did what Yale said. I took my woman to bed, I held her, and I made her forget that there was an angry man out there hell bent on revenge… but I didn’t. I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t be taking it easy until I had him locked up in my pen.