“Call 9-1-1!” Julian turned his head slightly and saw Kendrick standing in the doorway. The police issued Glock was firmly in his friend’s hand and pointed directly at him.
“Julian, step away and put your hands up!” Kendrick commanded.
“Kendrick, it’s not what it looks like—”
Two guards rushed past Kendrick and dragged his body backward, slamming him against the floor as they pressed a knee into his back. His arms were pinned behind him. The cold metal handcuffs tightened against his wrists.
“You saw what he did. He stabbed her with that syringe. Read him his rights,” one guard barked.
Kendrick’s voice was low and hollow as he uttered the words. “Julian Montgomery, you have the right to remain silent.”
Chapter Twelve
The tick of the second hand of the clock echoed in the interrogation room. Each movement triggered a pounding in Julian’s ears that grew louder, drowning out the sounds of the police department on the other side of the door.
Popcorn textured beige walls surrounded the closet sized space. Julian slumped over the table, nestled in the corner of the room. A single desk chair floated in the center of the space, where Kendrick sat across from him. The dark globes in the corner of the rooms flashed a small red light intermittently. The room was being video recorded.
“This part is similar to the States,” Kendrick said, sliding a single sheet of paper toward him. He explained his rights, emphasizing the right to an attorney and for the attorney to be present during any interrogation if Julian chose. “Do you understand those rights?”
“Yeah,” Julian said, disgusted that he was in an interrogation room for the first time on the opposite side from Kendrick. “I didn’t do—”
“You have the right to remain silent,” Kendrick implored. Julian knew his friend didn’t want him to say anything that could be used against him later. The charges of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon were serious.
Kendrick asked, “Do you have an attorney that you can call?”
“No. Never thought I’d need one,” Julian admitted. After Kendrick and the correctional officers had burst into the anteroom, four other police officers rushed in within seconds. Julian was hauled into a police cruiser and ushered to the police station as journalists and paparazzi followed, clamoring for details on what had transpired at the end of Dumay’s trial.
Julian had been in an angered daze as he was booked and processed before being led to a holding cell. The whole situation was a nightmare.
Dumay had toyed with him, using details from his past. One thing was clear. Dumay knew far too much about what had gone down in Central Sulawesi. But that didn’t mean she had any proof of his crimes. The laptop was just a carrot dangled in front of him to get him to fall into her trap.
She wanted everyone to believe he’d tried to kill her. The diabolical bitch was focused on exacting revenge, staging the poisoning and risking her own life to put him behind bars.
His thoughts shifted to Mena. She had to be confused and bewildered. One minute they were planning a relaxing night at home after her testimony, and the next she’d watched as the police arrested him for attacking Dumay.
“Look,” Kendrick said, leaning toward Julian. “It’s no secret that I’ll be yanked from this case because of our friendship. Des Francois will probably takeover. So, I’m not breaking any rules by helping you get a lawyer and I know exactly who to call—Octavia Constant.”
“The better suspect lawyer?” Julian asked. “Fuck … you really think it’s that bad. I need someone of her caliber?”
“Whatever went down in that room is complicated and could be hard to prove. You need the best on your side to make sure you have a fighting chance,” Kendrick explained.
“You think she’ll take my case?” Julian asked.
“I’m good friends with her cousin, Icarus. I’ll call him and get him to put in a good word for you. Her offices are in St. Mateo, but hopefully she can get over here in a few hours.”
“Thanks,” Julian muttered.
“It’s the least I can do for arresting you.” Kendrick patted Julian on the shoulder.
“Hey, what about Mena? Any chance I can see her?” Julian asked.
“Last I checked, she still hadn’t made it to the police station. It’s a madhouse out there. Let me see what I can do to get her in for a visit,” Kendrick said, then exited the room.
After three hours, Octavia Constant, the “Better Suspect Lawyer,” showed up.
“Did you do it?” Octavia asked, slipping her glasses from her face as she scrutinized him. “I’m not in the business of defending the guilty. My success is directly attributable to the fact that all of my clients have been wrongly charged with a crime. I don’t plan to taint my track record, not even for a high-profile case like yours.”
Undeterred, Julian stared back at the petite, curvaceous attorney as she stood in the corner near the door. Ms. Constant was a straight shooter who didn’t mince words, or waste her time with criminals.
