He lifted them from the table and stared at the picture of a little boy lying in a hospital bed with tubes going in and out of his tiny body. He had to be no older than five or six years old. His gaunt frame looked almost ghostly against the white sheets. “Who is this little boy?”
“Essa’s son. The kid has a rare medical condition. He’d been in St. Basil General Hospital for months until he was transferred to the Rakestraw Blake Center over the weekend,” Octavia said.
“This Essa guy could have been using the money to pay for the treatment that his kid needed,” Julian said, staring into the face of the young boy.
“Or just to make a dent in the mountain of debt I’m sure he has from the months of his child being hospitalized. We believe Essa convinced O’Keefe to go along with Dumay’s plan and accept the payout. He was clearly more desperate for the money than O’Keefe was.”
Looking at the sick child, Julian understood why Farouk Essa would make a deal with the devil. “Nice story, counselor, but it proves nothing. There’s a hundred different ways Whalum could have gotten the money to buy that house that don’t have anything to do with Dumay. As for Essa, the RBC has plenty of compassionate treatment programs where patients are brought in and charged nothing for their medical care. We can weave stories for days on how both of them ended up in their situations. You haven’t said anything that connects them to Dumay, so this theory won’t fly with the cops.”
“That’s the same thing Des said when I talked to him,” Octavia said, pressing her lips together in a thin line.
“Des? You on a nickname basis with one of the princes of Palmchat Islands law enforcement?”
“I grew up in St. X with the Francois brothers. We go way back. Lucky for you, I have a great relationship with all the Francois detectives. Des has agreed to look into the officers as a favor to me,” Octavia explained.
“And if he comes up empty?”
“It doesn’t change anything. That’s our Plan B. Plan A is just to prove reasonable doubt.”
“When will I get a trial date?” Julian asked.
Octavia hesitated. “Under normal circumstances, it would be two to three months.”
“These ain’t normal circumstances.”
“I expect the D.A. to stall his case, hoping that either Priscilla dies and he can get you on premeditated first degree murder or she comes out of the coma and can identify you as her attacker. I’m doing everything to prepare to counter his tactics, but you should prepare to be here for three to six months. Maybe more.”
“Fuck!” Julian slammed his fist against the table.
“Not what you wanted to hear. Listen to me. Stay out of trouble. Be the model prisoner for as long as it takes, and you’ll be fine.” Octavia grabbed her attaché case and exited the room, leaving him alone.
Julian dragged his hand down his face and took a deep breath. Three to six months away from Mena. How the hell was he going to break this news to her? Julian imagined her reaction and it made him sick, just thinking about it.
“Let’s go Montgomery.”
The door swung open and two guards entered, followed by another prisoner. “Webber has this room after you.”
Julian looked up into the cold, dark eyes of Zak Webber. A deep bruise had formed on his neck from where Julian had grabbed him two days ago. Julian stood and walked toward one of the guards.
“Don’t think I won’t get you back for this, bitch!” Zak growled under his breath as his hand lingered near his neck.
“That’s what you always say, isn’t it? I kick your ass and you come back with words. Some badass you are,” Julian said.
“Fuck you!” Zak screamed, then spat at Julian.
The warm, thick saliva hit Julian in the eye, then dripped down the side of his face.
“You’re a dead man,” Julian said, as the guard jerked him away and out of the room.
Chapter Nineteen
“Who did you sleep with to get us reservations during this prime hour?” Omar asked, slipping his sunglasses on.
Regina slapped at Omar’s arm and rolled her eyes. “No salacious acts were required to get this reservation. When I told Beaujean we wanted to do something special to take Mena’s mind off everything, he suggested Solar.”
“Helps that the cops forced you out of the penthouse with that damn search warrant or we wouldn’t have convinced you to come, would we?” Omar asked.
Mena remained quiet. A week ago, Julian had surprised her with a romantic dinner the night before they were due to testify against Priscilla. Mena never would have believed that Julian would be the one in Tiverton seven days later, and Priscilla would be in a coma at the Rakestraw Blake Center.
