A Cold Day in Hell Page 15

  They made love on the kitchen floor, in the front hall, and halfway up the stairs. They found themselves exhausted, lying on the landing together. For Lauren, it should’ve been bliss.

  Pulling his pants back on, Mark asked, “What’s your trial date?”

  “End of October, if there aren’t any delays.”

  “Wow,” Mark said. “That’s a quick turnaround for a murder that happened in June.”

  She shrugged. “Violanti is pushing for a quick trial, as opposed to dragging it out, which is his normal defense strategy. When you’re working pro bono on a case, time is money, I suppose.”

  “I would charge a thirty-five-thousand-dollar retainer for a murder suspect just walking in the door and another twenty-five if it went to trial, minimum. I can’t say I blame the guy. When you’re a lawyer, all you have is your time. For every hour he works on this kid’s case, he’s losing hundreds not defending a paying client.”

  “I guess I didn’t think of it that way,” she conceded. “Plus, he’s paying me out of his own pocket.”

  “Taking on a case like this for free would bankrupt a lot of lawyers, especially ones working on their own or in a small firm. You ought to cut him a little slack.”

  Lauren leaned in and kissed Mark’s collarbone. “Let’s not talk about Violanti. Let’s talk about us.”

  “Beautiful. I think we should go to Maine after the trial is over. I saw an article in a magazine about this little town on the coast. It has a small lighthouse and a bed-and-breakfast over a tavern. The leaves will be changing. I think we should go.”

  “What will you tell your wife?”

  “Just say you’ll go with me. I’ll make all the arrangements.”

  Lauren was now sitting on the carpeted steps leading to the upstairs. All she had on was Mark’s button-down shirt and some brown socks. “You don’t talk like a man who’s having an affair.”

  He pulled his tee shirt over his head. “I don’t consider this an affair. The more time I spend with you, the more I realize what I gave up to get what I wanted. When I saw you sitting with that short attorney, I was jealous. All I could think about the entire meal was you. Is that fair to Amanda? Is that fair to my son? I need to fix this.”

  “Come on, Mark, this is the real world. People just don’t dump their wives to get back together with their ex. Especially when they have as much to lose as you.”

  “What would I lose? Little Mark is ten now. Amanda will be maintained in the style she has grown accustomed to. People get divorced. All I want to do is try to make the transition as easy as possible for my son.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  He stretched out against the railing of the stairs. “Because I know you. You aren’t going to put up with this situation forever. You’ll end up with someone else and it’ll be my fault.”

  “Don’t make me any promises,” she warned. “Don’t get my hopes up.”

  “Make no mistake,” he assured her, “I’m selfish. I’m not doing this for you. I want what I want.”

  “Even if we hadn’t started fooling around, you think that you and Amanda would be heading down this road?”

  “You start a marriage off like ours and I think it’s inevitable. She wanted my name and my money and I wanted a kid. And let’s be honest, I thought I was the man. Hotshot lawyer. Gorgeous wife and family at home, cute little sidepiece. I thought that’s what men in my position do.”

  “I changed my mind. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Do what you have to do, Mark.”

  He reached over and scooped her up and carried her up the stairs. “You asked for it.”

  Lauren tried not to put too much stock in the leaving-my-wife speech. She knew it was normal to have remorse when you’re having an affair, to try to justify it. Still, it was a nice fantasy. Mark would leave his wife and move back in with her and everyone would live happily ever after.

  Lauren was a grown woman; she knew what the real deal was. Mark wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt her. He might even half believe what he said. But he was a cheat and a liar, even if it was with the best of intentions. He knew that she was reaching the end of her rope with him and he was trying to tie a knot and hold onto her as long as possible. At twenty-seven, that had been unacceptable. Nearing forty, it was tolerable. Almost.

  44

  On the last day of July, Lauren sat in Violanti’s office, surrounded by his awards and accolades. Never in her life had she seen such a moving tribute to oneself. Plastered around the office were pictures of Violanti with movie stars and dignitaries. Polished wood plaques hung between shelves filled with little glass statues. He had every acknowledgement, accolade, and honor he ever received on display. All of them proudly proclaimed Frank Violanti to be the man you wanted to represent you when you really screwed up.

  “Have you been waiting long?” Violanti swept in and deposited a stack of files on his impressive-looking desk. Behind him, the view of the water ate up almost the entire wall.

  “Long enough to admire your resume hanging on your walls.”

  He smiled slyly. “I have to impress potential new clients. The only one I don’t have is a newspaper article saying I beat you.”

  “I’d get a nice print of dogs playing poker to fill that spot if I were you.”

  “Someday, Riley, someday your luck will run out and I’ll be there.”

  Ignoring that remark, she jumped in. “What do you think about my report on Katherine Vine’s sister?”

  He flipped open the top file. “I need more on Anthony Vine. I sent the prosecution my witness list.”

  “You put Anthony Vine on it?”

  “And Jennifer Jackson. I’m hoping he’ll hit the roof. Or she will. Anyway, I’m hoping we’ll get a call from their lawyers and be able to stir the pot.”

  “The district attorney is going to lose his mind when he sees that.”

  “I suspect he will.” Violanti’s smile was wide now. “It’s time to get my defense on. The gloves are coming off.”

  “Good luck with that. I have to go to work.”

  “Have fun. I’ll call you if I need you.”

  Heading for the door, she called back, “Thanks for the warning.”

  45

  Reese was hunched over a file when she arrived at their office. He was comparing two photographs, looking at one, then bringing the other right to his nose. “You’re back,” he said absently, turning the picture sideways.

  “I had to meet up with Napoleon for a minute. He’s been hounding me. And he’s paying me, so why put off the inevitable?”

  The picture was now upside down and held out at arm’s length. “Kelly from the lab called. The DNA from the Ortiz case is in. It’s a match to Pilski’s sample. I left a message with Kevin King about indicting.”

  “I can’t believe the luck we’ve had with this case.”

  “I know, right?” Reese agreed. “It’s never this easy. I almost think we’re being punked. I had Marilyn make another copy of the file for us, including all of our updates and new reports.”

  “You’ve been a busy boy.” Lauren stashed her purse in her desk and stuffed her handcuffs through her belt, so that one shackle dangled over the small of her back. The phone rang at her elbow. “Cold Case, Riley.”

  It was Linda from downstairs. “Lauren, the district attorney is here to see you.”

  She put her feet up on her desk, knocking a pad of paper to the floor, “Which one?”

  “The district attorney, not an ADA. Carl Church is here in the lobby and he wants to come up and see you.”

  Trying to hide her surprise, she swung her feet down and snatched up the fallen pad. “Buzz him in.” Lauren hung the phone up and stared at it for a second, gathering her thoughts.

  “Who was that?” Reese asked.

  Putting her hands behind her head, sh
e sat back in her chair.

  “Who was that?” he asked again, sliding the DNA reports back into their envelope.

  “I’d take a ride right now, if I were you. Give me a half hour.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Carl Church is on the way up.”

  Reese slammed his hand on the desk. “I knew it. I knew this case would get you in trouble. We have a ton of work to do on the Ortiz case. I don’t have time for this. Damn it, Lauren.”

  “I don’t want you involved. Why don’t you take off? Please?”

  “How can you be so cavalier about this?”

  She sighed. “Because the die is cast. I’m already in up over my head and it’s too late to change it now. Just go. I’ll deal with it. I don’t want you to suffer any of the fallout from my adventures.”

  He stood up. “This is not how a partnership works, Lauren. We’re supposed to be on the same page.”

  “I’m sorry.” It sounded feeble, even to her.

  Grabbing up his portable radio, he stalked out.

  I manage to complicate every relationship I have, Lauren thought, making sure no sign of the Vine case was on her desk. Nothing can ever be simple.

  Training her eyes on the door, she sat waiting for Church to come in like a prisoner waiting for the executioner. If I’d known he was coming, I would’ve tidied the place up, she thought to herself as she absently rifled her fingers through a random file in her stack.

  Less than five minutes later, there was a single knock on the door. Before Lauren could say anything, it opened. Carl Church didn’t wait for invitations.

  A former marine, Church kept his salt-and-pepper hair cut high and tight. Still fit in his early sixties, his suit hung perfectly pressed over his impressive frame. A proud black man born, raised, and educated in the City of Buffalo, he surprised everyone fifteen years ago when he swept the mostly white suburbs to clinch the job as the County District Attorney. He backed the right candidates, went to the right fundraisers, and prosecuted the right cases. Now he was arguably the most powerful elected official west of Albany.

  Flinging a piece of paper on the desk in front of her, he demanded, “What’s this?”

  She picked up the document and examined it. “It looks like a defense witness list.”

  “Funny,” he said in a voice that said there was nothing funny about it. “It was faxed to my office this morning. Can you tell me why your name is on it? Or how about Anthony Vine and Jennifer Jackson? Can you explain to me what’s going on?”

  “I thought you knew the defense hired me after the felony hearing.”

  “I didn’t know what to think. With you and Frank Violanti’s track record, I couldn’t believe you’d even speak to the man, let alone work for him. I thought maybe you were some half-ass relative of the kid or something. I want to know. Right now. What’s going on?”

  He was standing over her, looming almost, in his expensive suit and power tie. “It is what it is, Carl. It’s a witness list. Violanti hired me as a private investigator and I took the case. Anything else, I can’t say.”

  That set him off. Lauren knew he wasn’t used to having his loyalty snatched out from under him. Or being told no. “Have you forgotten all the times I’ve gone out on a limb for you with your cold cases? How many weak cases I let you run with because you had a hunch? How many nights I spent writing you search warrants and losing sleep over your trials?”

  “No. And I haven’t forgotten how much publicity those cases got you, and how you used them in your re-election campaigns, either. I think the kid is innocent. I think there’s a lot more to this story. I think the detective rushed to make an arrest, maybe under pressure. And I have a hunch who that pressure came from.”

  “You really want to make an enemy out of me? After all the good work we’ve done together?”

  “Enemy? Did you really use that word just now?”

  “What would you call it?” he challenged in his deep baritone voice. “Either you’re with me or against me. Understand?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “I’m trying this case, personally.”

  “What about Lynn Ferro?”

  “Second chair.”

  She paused, letting that sink in. “Oh.”

  Carl only personally prosecuted the most high-profile cases. Everything else was farmed out to a lesser assistant district attorney. He hadn’t taken a case himself in over two years.

  “After all the times we stood together on the podium, we’re going to be sitting at opposite tables in this case. How’s that going to look?”

  She couldn’t help but smirk a little. She was tired of him trying to bully her in the name of their so-called friendship. “I guess it will look like one of our careers is going to end.”

  He drew back, shocked that Lauren could even insinuate that she might be able to win against him. He took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. “I’ll forget you said that. And we’ll see how this plays out. But I’m warning you now, as a friend, to watch your step. I think you backed the wrong horse on this one and I won’t defend you when you’re proven wrong.” He stressed the word friend, as if to offset his previous use of the word enemy and how easy it was to change from one to the other.

  She wanted to say she wouldn’t defend him either. She also wanted to say that they weren’t friends. She wanted to tell him to go screw himself. For one of the first times in her adult life, she filtered her thoughts and words and simply said, “I appreciate you coming down and talking to me face to face.”

  He picked the paper off her desk. “I won’t let this affect my office’s prosecution of your other cases.” He was already rereading the paper, waiting for her to apologize or something absurd like that.

  You are so full of baloney, Lauren thought as she stood to face him.

  He put on his best politician’s face and stuck out his hand. “I’m really quite fond of you, Lauren. It’s just a shock to me that you would do something so damaging to your career.”

  It’s only damaging if you arrested the wrong person, she thought as she shook his hand. “Thanks, Carl. I’m glad you were straight with me.”

  “Sorry to barge in. You know me. I have to get to the bottom of things. Know where I stand.”

  “I know, Carl. It’s okay.” Because as far as she was concerned, he was standing in a huge pile of crap.

  He seemed to pull himself together and added, “Let me know what we can do about the Ortiz case. I heard you got good numbers on the DNA.”

  “Will do,” she called as he walked out the door. He let it slam behind him. Lauren was all alone in the Cold Case office. She debated whether to call Violanti but thought better of it. She called Reese’s cell phone instead and told him, “Everything is taken care of.”

  “The coast is clear?”

  “For now.”

  “I’ll swing around and pick you up for an early lunch. That’ll get your mind back on track.”

  She said okay, but she wasn’t that hungry anymore.

  46

  Violanti called Lauren about two hours later to have her clear a space in her calendar. Both Jennifer Jackson’s attorney and Anthony Vine’s attorney wanted a meeting with him. He made two appointments for the next evening, one after the other. The two attorneys were demanding to know why their clients were on the defense witness list.

  Violanti was in his glory. This was the part he loved. Putting the squeeze on people. The defense had no obligation to tell the prosecution anything, while they had to turn over everything to him as part of discovery. He was working on the assumption that Vine and Jackson had not yet revealed their affair to Carl Church. He had no intention of letting on that not only did he know, he had proof. He’d hold that card up his sleeve for a while. Especially since he hadn’t received his discovery material yet. He wanted Lauren there so she could listen
in and maybe catch some detail he might not think important. She would be listening with a detective’s ear, not a lawyer’s.

  Violanti looked down at the entries written in red ink in his agenda. This was going to be good. Sometimes he loved his job.

  47

  Lauren hung up. She hadn’t mentioned Carl Church’s visit. Violanti would’ve loved the chance to exploit that social call as a threat, which it was, but in the end would have no bearing on the outcome of the case. It would only make the DA angrier and more determined to personally eradicate her as the traitor she had proved herself to be. See how it plays out, that’s what Church had said. She was willing to do that without throwing fuel on the fire.

  As she fiddled with the phone, switching it from ear to ear, she called Mark. Answering on the first ring, Lauren didn’t tell him about the run-in with Carl either. The two men were friends and she didn’t know what he would make of it.

  She told him instead not to come over that night, which shocked him a little. Said she had a lot of work to do. Secretly, Lauren enjoyed the disappointment she heard in his voice. She was glad it was Mark and not her for once. Later she’d think about that and how sad that was. How ironic that she was the one having second and third thoughts about their relationship. How this case had drawn them back together and how it was tearing her police career apart.

  She was starting to have second thoughts about a lot of things.

  48

  For the second day in a row Lauren was in Violanti’s office. This time she didn’t get the carved chair in front of the desk, but a smaller wooden one in the far corner to take notes.

  Anthony Vine’s attorney was first. He was a big, overstuffed, balding man whose jacket button looked like it was ready to burst at any moment. He sat straight up like the overpreened peacock Violanti knew him to be, chest puffed out, and demanded to know the meaning of his client’s name on the defense witness list.