“I’ll walk you out,” Mrs. Reece said wiping her eyes once more.
“There’s no need,” Ben said.
“Yes there is,” she insisted. “Death don’t give a reason to be rude.”
When they were at the door, she grabbed Ben’s hand, holding it tightly in hers.
“Ebony wasn’t afraid of anybody. She didn’t care who it was or how big a gun they carried, she said they were living and breathing just like her. The cop that came by the other night said she fought hard. I feel good knowing my baby didn’t go down without a fight. I didn’t raise her that way.”
Ben nodded. “Ebony was definitely a fighter.”
“You find him,” she said adamantly, her watery eyes looking from Ben to Noah. “Both of you work hard and find that bastard that took my baby.”
Her bravado was lost then as she wept. Ben wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, closing his own eyes to keep from crying.
“We will do everything we can, Mrs. Reece,” Noah told her.
“You have our promise,” Ben added.
Chapter 5
Ben
Three Weeks Later
The courtroom was already full with citizens, either eager to watch what they thought was a vicious killer sentenced to death or another victim being forgotten by the state.
For Ben, it was a coin toss. He knew this case inside and out, knew Ramone Vega as well as the victim—Congressman Theodore McGlinn and his wife Myrna. The Congressman and his wife had been executed—both shot three times to the back of the head. The Congressman had been stripped of his clothes, both of them lying face down on the floor of his home office. Nobody heard a sound, no gunshots, nothing. A woman in the cafe a block away from the Congressman’s house claimed to have seen a gray car speeding around the corner around the time of the murders. She’d gone to the police station sure about fulfilling her civic duty the next day and signed a statement. Her name was Alayna Jonas and two weeks later she was gone.
Ben’s defense had been to simply plant the seeds of doubt. The state didn’t have a lot on their side to prove Vega committed the murders. All Ben had to do was present more evidence thatsaid maybe he didn’t. And it worked, that first go round. He wondered if Vega’s new attorney would take the same tactic.
The letter Ben received along with the one found at the scene of Ebony’s death were circumstantial evidence. Nothing else was found at the scene, so pinning Ebony’s murder on Vega seemed like a repeat of the Congressman’s trial. And that meant the DA’s office wasn’t jumping to file charges. Instead, they were hoping that by using the easily brilliant, and certainly attractive Victoria Lashley, they would be able to put Vega in jail this go round.
That’s precisely why Ben decided to sit in on the preliminary hearing. Following Ben’s advice, Vega hired another attorney. And he hadn’t contacted Ben since that letter on his car, but with Ebony’s death Ben knew Vega hadn’t forgotten about him. It didn’t seem plausible that his only motive for killing Ebony was that Ben wouldn’t represent him, then again, murderers rarely had good reasons for killing people. At least that’s what Ben thought. He’d also thought long and hard over the last few weeks about what other reason Vega could have had. All he could come up with is retaliation, which pissed him off even more. In all his years working as a defense attorney, Ben had never endured violence on the part of any of his clients, whether he won their cases or not. If Vega wanted to be the first, so be it. The man obviously had no idea who he was dealing with.
Upon entering the courtroom his gaze automatically went to the prosecution table. She was already there. He should’ve known she would be.
They were in front of Judge Leontine Mercer who was known around the Justice Center as the Bitch on the Bench. She was a fifty-something year old African American woman who’d been married five times and loved bossing men around as much as she loved cutting women down. She was also a known animal hater. It seemed there was no species on this earth that couldplease this woman. And she was notoriously strict about how her courtroom was run.
She could be expected on the bench at exactly nine-thirty and for whatever attorney that wasn’t already at the table waiting for her arrival, Ben could only pray for their survival.
It was a good thing Victoria Lashley was punctual. She was also snatch-your-breath beautiful, fierce in the courtroom and sexy as hell. This was a combination she’d refined over the years while Ben meticulously took notes. The question for him wasn’t so much as why, as it was what he planned to someday do with all the information he’d gathered on her.
As he moved to take a seat on one of the back rows, the door behind him opened once more. Franz Melmer strolled in wearing a black pinstriped suit, dazzling black and white pointed toe shoes, black shirt and bright white tie. He looked like a member of the mafia instead of a defense attorney and Ben knew why. If the jury were enamored by his flashy dressing and smooth talking, they were likely to miss key testimony and find his client not guilty. It was a lame attempt at influencing the jury. Unfortunately, it worked more often than not.
“Mr. Donovan, I’m surprised to see you here,” Franz said with a bright toothy smile, that came off more as a smirk that Ben tried to ignore.
Ben accepted his hand for a shake. “Good morning, Mr. Helmer. Just thought I’d sit in on the hearing before I have to be in another courtroom.”
“You could’ve been sitting at the defense table,” he continued eyeing Ben suspiciously. “I wondered why you discharged a client in the middle of a trial.”
“The trial I was hired for was over,” Ben replied. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll do a great job heading up your own defense team.”
Franz always worked with a team of younger attorneys. They actually did most of the work, while Franz put on the performance. He had billboards and television commercials that also showed his acting abilities. Concentrating on all that promotion it was no wonder he needed a team of attorneys to do the actual trial prep for him. Said attorneys had also come into the courtroom heading straight for the defense table.
“We’ll get the job done,” Franz said after turning to shake the hand of one of his team. “Sit tight, you might learn something,” was Franz’s parting shot.
Ben didn’t even bother with a retort. It wasn’t worth it. He was just about to take his seat when Vega entered the courtroom, his own entourage following closely behind him. One of the beefy wrestler-type men spotted Ben and taped Vega on the shoulder. Vega’s gaze met Ben’s.
