Vega didn’t look shocked, only annoyed. “I pay my bills with you, man. So, what’s the problem?”
“I can take or release any client I want. That’s in our retainer agreement. You paid me for this charge and this trial date. I represented you. I’m not obligated to re-try this case for you.”
“Don’t do this Donovan.” The sentence had been simple enough, its tone meant to be a warning.
Ben shook his head. Something about Vega had always bothered him. No, it wasn’t something, it was guilt. The man was as guilty of murder as Ben was innocent. And knowing that, he couldn’t effectively represent him, hewouldn’trepresent him, not again.
“It’s already done,” he stated although, he was just on his way to the Justice Center now to file the motion to strike his appearance. “You need to find yourself another lawyer and fast. I’m sure the prosecutors are going to push for a speedy trial.”
Ben didn’t wait for a response, he just turned and walked away.
“I want you on this case,” Vega yelled, his accent almost gone, his voice deeper, deadlier.
Ben didn’t like having his back to the man as he walked the rest of the distance to his car. When he was at the driver’s side door, he opened it and tossed his briefcase into the back seat. He looked up at Vega who was watching him intently.
“I won’t work on this case. And I’m not going to change my mind,” he said, keeping his voice in a deadly serious tone that just about matched Vega’s.
Without a care as to whether Vega had a response, Ben climbed into his car and pulled off. Watching Vega through the rearview mirror, he reached into his jacket pocket for his cell phone. When he turned toward the exit, Vega had been still standing there, looking at him drive away.
Ben hadn’t given a second thought to what the man might have been thinking or doing. He’d just been glad to have this case behind him.
Now, he wondered if it really was.
Chapter 2
Victoria
This was her life, Victoria thought checking the full-length mirror behind her closet door. Her black suit was classic, stylish and functional all at once. The skirt scraped a few inches above her knees, the jacket, when buttoned, created the perfect hour-glass figure. She looked professional and serious, her dark hair cut into layers that fell in soft waves past her shoulders. As for jewelry, she wore stud earrings that were barely visible except for a quick glimmer when she shifted and her hair moved, and her school ring on her left ring finger. Simple and to the point. That’s how she liked to keep things.
One last turn to the side showed off her legs highlighted by four-inch heel, peep-toe pumps. Her gaze lingered on the shoes a second or two longer as she acknowledged her one true obsession. Some women loved ice cream, or hand bags (that was Grace) or she even knew a woman that was simply obsessed with fragrances. She worked in one of the offices at the Justice Center and Victoria developed a headache each time she passed the woman’s desk, the scents were so strong.
So, she loved shoes. That wasn’t a crime. And these had been a splurge for her seeing as they cost a good chunk of herpaycheck. Still, she figured she didn’t party, drink, gamble or otherwise waste the money she made. In fact, she paid her bills and some of her retired mother’s. Naomi Lashley refused to move into a senior home and refused even more sternly to move in with her daughter or to let her daughter move in with her. She was a proud, independent woman and had raised Victoria to be the same way. That’s why Victoria didn’t argue with her, but did what she could to make the pension check her mother received from the Clark County School System stretch as far as it could for her.
Not that Victoria was getting rich off her salary as assistant district attorney in Clark County. It definitely wasn’t the paycheck that kept her going to work each day. She would say a passion for the law, fighting for justice, and the night of her sophomore dance were the driving forces behind her career choice. And she didn’t regret them one bit. She loved her work, felt it was more rewarding than money and privilege could ever be. So what she rented her house instead of purchasing a condo or a home of her own. Her car, a three-year old Honda Accord was a serviceable and attractive vehicle that she could comfortably afford. That’s the word Victoria would use to describe her life, comfortable. And she was just fine with that.
Half an hour later she parked her car in the garage and used the walk-thru to connect to the Justice Center. Taking the elevator to her floor she spoke to co-workers who were both happy and downright pissed that they had to be there. She never could figure out why more people weren’t thankful to have a job, even if it was one they didn’t particularly care for.
Victoria loved her job. Prosecuting criminals was exhilarating and liberating, especially since her father’s senseless murder more than ten years ago. Victoria had promised herself that she’d seek justice for all the innocent victims in the state of Nevada. After graduating law school sheworked as a clerk Judge January and on his recommendation was hired two years later by the Clark County District Attorney’s office. It had been another two years since she’d been practicing, going to court to prosecute felony trials. Today, however, she didn’t have anything on her docket. Her day would most likely be spent reading over upcoming cases.
Walking into her office she said a warm good morning to Evelyn and Roxanne, the two secretaries who worked the reception area for the felony trial division.
“Good morning, Victoria. No calls,” Evelyn said with her daily smile.
Evelyn was a thirty-something year old, mother of three who had been with the District Attorney’s office for twelve years.
Roxanne mouthed the words “good morning”. She was on the phone. Again. Twenty-two years old and as mature as one of Evelyn’s middle school kids, Roxanne had a lot to learn about working in a professional environment. She was going to college, but hadn’t yet selected a major. Victoria figured that could be attributed to the fact that she didn’t want to do anything besides talk on the phone and hang out with her friends. If her father hadn’t been a district attorney for forty years and pulled some serious strings for her, she wouldn’t have this position. There were days when Victoria wished he hadn’t pulled those strings.
Proceeding down the short hallway, her steps muffled by the worn carpeted floor, she passed two offices with doors closed—other ADA’s hard at work first thing in the morning. Probably not, but it looked good. Her office was the third on the left. Walking inside she dropped her bag on the chair situated near the door and moved to her desk where she slapped her purse down.
“Did you hear?” a woman’s voice interrupted Victoria’s morning ritual before it could even begin. “Jules had Ramone Vega indicted again.”
Grace had also gotten a position at the DA’s office. Hers came complete with a husband who was a judge in the traffic division. Even though Grace’s dream had been to marry rich enough so she didn’t have to work, she seemed to really love Clinton Ramsey. And she was actually a pretty good prosecutor when she cared enough about the case to prosecute it thoroughly. Which could sometimes be an uphill battle when she was feeling that a good number of the criminals she prosecuted would eventually be released for one bureaucratic reason or another.
“Really?” Sitting in her chair Victoria switched on her computer, then swiveled to reach for the strings that would close the blinds to her window.
It was a gorgeous, sun-blazing, temperature-rising day in Las Vegas, but the sun’s beams were a bit too bright for her this early in the morning.
Grace was nodding as she gave Victoria her bag that she’d removed from the chair where she was now preparing to sit. Grace was also seven-and-a-half months pregnant. Standing was not a good idea for her at any time of day.
