“I plan to be pretty when I’m sixty.”
“You know what I mean. I’m telling you, one look at you and Thad will be drooling.”
“If I want drool I’ll adopt a dog.”
“Come on, Kate. You’re young and pretty and talented as hell. There’s no reason why—”
“I’m also ambitious,” Kate cut in. “Some men can’t handle that.”
“This guy doesn’t have a fragile ego.”
“That’s good to know, Liz, but honestly I just can’t spare the time or the energy right now.”
Eyeing her the way a mother would a recalcitrant teenager, Liz leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “I’ve known you for over a year now, and I’ve never seen you go out on a date. You’re not an alien, are you?”
“Dating is overrated.”
“I’ve never even seen you with a man.”
“Maybe I just don’t broadcast my personal life.”
“At the end of the day, don’t you want someone to come home to?”
“I have a cat.”
“You do not.” Liz leaned forward and lowered her voice. “How can you go for months at a time without sex?”
Kate resisted the need to squirm. Instead, she rolled her eyes and tried to look annoyed. But she could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks. The bump of her heart against her breastbone. The little voice inside her head told her to calm down. Reminded her that this was just a friendly chat between friends. Liz couldn’t possibly realize what she was prying into.
“Stop playing matchmaker, Liz. It’s not going to work. At least not until the Bruton Ellis case is over. I need to stay focused.” She forced a smile. “And I need for you to stay focused, too. On the case, that is.”
Liz set her cappuccino down with a resonant thud. “Me?”
Kate grinned. “I haven’t told Mike yet, but I want you on my team.”
“Oh, Kate.” Liz practically squealed. “Wow, I’m incredibly flattered. Thank you.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Does this mean we have to start working Saturdays?”
Kate laughed, glad she had Liz to help her keep things in perspective. “Sundays, too, probably.”
Making a face of extreme angst, Liz looked to the heavens. “What have you gotten us into?”
“The case of a lifetime.” Kate pulled the ever-present legal pad from her purse and uncapped her Mont Blanc. “I’ve got an hour before I have to be in court. I thought we’d spend a few minutes putting together the rest of the team.”
“God help us all,” Liz muttered and looked down at the legal pad. “Just promise me that when this is over, you’ll agree to go out with Thad.”
“If I survive this case, I’m sure I can survive a blind date.”
“Good, because I’m going to hold you to it.”
MONDAY, JANUARY 23, 8:21 P.M.
It was nearly eight P.M. when Kate left her office. She’d spent the afternoon in court, given her opening argument, and the Paulsen case had begun as scheduled. She’d connected well with the jury, and even though the trial had barely begun, Kate thought she would get a conviction.
But for the first time in her career, her mind hadn’t been on the case she was prosecuting. Her thoughts had already jumped ahead to the Bruton Ellis case. She knew it was going to be one of those cases that consumed her life for months on end. The kind of case that would call upon every skill and instinct she’d acquired in the three years she’d been with the DA’s office. The kind of case that took a lot of emotional energy and mental stamina. But Kate was ready for it. She felt as if she’d been waiting her entire life for a case like this. It was her chance to prove herself. Her chance to make a difference.
Traffic was light when she pulled onto the Dallas North Tollway. But instead of proceeding north toward home, she took the Mockingbird Lane exit and found herself heading toward the Turtle Creek Convalescent Home, a place she visited at least twice a week no matter how busy her schedule.
She’d been thinking of Kirsten on and off all day, and it wasn’t until she turned into the parking lot that she realized the case was something she wanted to share with her sister.
Kate parked and started toward the front portico at a brisk clip. The wind sent dry leaves scurrying across the asphalt, the cold cutting through her coat with the proficiency of a knife. Shivering, she pulled her coat more tightly about her and took the front steps two at a time.
Shoving open the front door, she entered the main foyer. The Turtle Creek Convalescent Home was one of the best in the state of Texas. With its high ceilings, expensive artwork, and tropical plants, the place looked more like a five-star hotel than a convalescent home. The staff and attendants were professional and friendly and wore trim navy scrubs. The on-call doctors were the best in the world. None of those amenities made it any easier to come here.
“Hello, Kate. How are you this evening?”
She looked up to see the home director approach. Nancy Martin was a robust woman with silver hair coiffed into a smooth bob that made her look both elegant and sophisticated.
Kate smiled. “How is she today?”
“She’s the same. Your mom and dad were in earlier. Your mom put up some new curtains in her room. Not sure if I like the yellow, but I didn’t say anything.”
“Yellow? Hmm . . . I’ll have to talk to Mom about that.” Kate looked toward the hall where her sister’s room was. She could see that the door was open. Had been every day for the last eleven years . . .
“I’ll just go in to see her,” Kate said.
“Sure, honey. Take your time.” The director smiled. “Let me know what you think of those curtains.”
“Sure.” Turning away a little too abruptly, Kate started down the hall, her heels clicking sharply against the marble tiled floor. Most of the residents had already retired for the night, and the hall was so quiet Kate could hear the wind whispering against the windows. Official visiting hours had ended at eight o’clock, but the staff always made an exception for Kate and her parents, especially since Peter Megason had donated money for the new wing they’d added four years earlier.
A stainless-steel handrail lined the tiled wall to her right. A young woman in a pink housecoat sat motionless in a motorized wheelchair, her head drooping, a skeletal hand gripping the armrest. Kate smiled, but it felt tight on her face. The woman didn’t acknowledge her, but her hollowed eyes followed Kate as she moved down the hall.
At the end of the hall Kate paused outside her sister’s door, pasted a smile to her face, and walked into the room.
In the years she’d been coming here the scene never changed. She saw crisp white sheets on a bed that had the head end raised slightly. An IV bag hung from a chrome stand, a single tube running into her sister’s left hand. A catheter bag half full of bodily fluids hung at the side of the bed. Fresh-cut yellow roses from the florist in the gift shop sat on the food table that Kristen had never used. A purple stuffed hippo Kirsten had had since she was six years old sat at the foot of the bed, looking lonely and a little sad. Classical music floated from tiny Bose speakers positioned on the tiled windowsill. A small color television gave off just enough light for Kate to see the outline of her sister’s form.
“Hi, sweetie. How are you today?” Kate crossed to the bed and looked down at her twin. “I hear Mom and Dad were here earlier.” She smiled, envisioning for a moment the pretty young girl who’d once been so vibrant and full of life. At twenty-eight, Kirsten Megason looked nothing like that girl now. Hair that had once been glossy and brown was now as dry and lifeless as the winter dead leaves outside, even though Kate’s mother, Isobel, had her hairdresser come in once a week and give her a shampoo and style. A face that had once been soft and lovely was sunken and contorted, the mottled skin lying like old leather over facial bones that had once been model perfect. A body that had once been healthy and strong was atrophied and frail from disuse.
“I can’t believe Mom put up those ugly curtains.” Crossing to the em
broidered, pale yellow curtains on the single window, Kate reached out and ran her hands over them. “I guess it’s a good thing she has a decorator for the house.”
She walked to the radio and twisted the dial to a local rock-and-roll station. A smile whispered across her face when she thought of how her mother would react the next day when she arrived to hold vigil and realized Kirsten had been listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers and 3 Doors Down all night. Kate didn’t think the music mattered, but she wished like hell it did.
“I got some good news at work today.” Kate dragged the wingback chair to the bed and sat down. Out of habit, she took her sister’s hand. The skin was dry and cold to the touch. She could feel the hand trembling and spasming within hers. But Kate had long since grown used to the sensation. Taking it between hers, she rubbed it briskly.
She looked into her sister’s eyes then. No matter how many years passed, she always found herself looking for a spark of recognition. A flash of understanding. Anything that would tell her there was still a tiny part of Kirsten that was inside this shell. But the blue eyes that had once been so full of life rolled back white. A mouth that had once smiled so readily opened and closed soundlessly. Hands that had once played the piano with such utter beauty now clenched and unclenched mindlessly.
“I got my first big case today,” Kate began. “It’s going to be a capital case, Kirs. A man killed two women. Shot them down in a convenience store as if their lives didn’t matter. I’m going to make sure everyone knows they did matter. I’m going to make sure those two women get the justice they deserve.”
The only answer she received was the whipping of the wind against the window. The old rock-and-roll ballad playing from a radio that had never reached her sister’s ears. The dim light from the color television that had never been watched.
“I met with Jack Gamble again last week.” Kate lowered her voice. “You’d like him, Kirs. He’s good. Tough. Discreet. I think he’s honest. He’s exactly what we need.” She squeezed her sister’s hand. “I just want you to know I haven’t given up, sweetie. I haven’t forgotten.”
Kate plucked a moist towelette from the container on the dinner tray and used it to dab the saliva from her sister’s chin. “I’m going to find them, Kirs,” she said. “And if it’s the last thing I do, I swear to God I’m going to make them pay for what they did.”
Tossing the towelette into the trash container, Kate closed her eyes, lowered her face into her hands, and wept.
THREE
TUESDAY, JANUARY 24, 9:05 A.M.
By the time her team had assembled in the main conference room at nine o’clock, Kate had already been at the office for two hours. She’d worked into the wee hours the night before, formulating strategy and finessing team assignments. At six A.M., she’d dressed, packed a workout bag, and headed to the gym for a rigorous swim to clear her head.
But despite her careful preparations, her heart was beating a little too fast when she entered the conference room. Her newly assembled team sat at the glossy oval table with legal pads and appointment books spread out in front of them, watching her expectantly.
“Good morning.” She took her seat at the head of the table, snapped opened her slender briefcase, and removed her notes. Scanning her meticulous handwriting, she looked up and studied the team she had handpicked.
Liz Gordon stood at the VCR rack, her face set in concentration as she studied the operating buttons. Her no-nonsense style and ten years of paralegal and research experience would be priceless during a case like this. Since she and Kate were friends, Liz would be not only good moral support but also a liaison of sorts between Kate and the rest of the group if any personnel problems cropped up in the course of the case, which invariably they did.
Her administrative assistant, Sandra Hopkins, was paging through the folder Kate had put together for each of them. She was in her forties with a grown family. The consummate professional, Sandra was efficient and didn’t mind putting in the hours. A good thing, considering the case was going to be a demanding one.
Junior ADA Marissa Riley, who’d begun with the DA’s office the summer before as an intern from SMU, sat across from Sandra in her Banana Republic suit and Nordstrom shoes. Ambitious and smart, Marissa’s fresh perspective and youthful energy would be an asset to the team.
Investigator David Perrine sat slumped in his chair, a Star-bucks coffee and crumpled napkin in front of him. He was in his early thirties, single and ambitious. A tad too cocky, in Kate’s opinion, but he had good instincts and kept his cool under pressure. Kate had worked with him several times in the last few years. Because he was a good investigator, she was able to tolerate his other not-so-desirable traits.
She’d spent half the night preparing for this initial meeting. The rest of the night tossing and turning with a bad case of nerves. Standing before her team, she felt those nerves settling. It was the waiting that always got her. Once she could dig in and get things moving, she was usually fine.
She looked around the room and frowned. “Where’s my second investigator?” She glanced at the legal pad in front of her where she’d jotted names and titles and personal contact information, then at the group. “Frank Matrone.”
The rest of the team looked around the room, shrugging and shaking their heads. Annoyance rose inside Kate. At Frank Matrone for being late for this vital first meeting. And at Mike Shelley for recommending an unproven investigator—a man she’d never met—for the job. Kate had zero tolerance for tardiness. As far as that went, Kate had zero tolerance for any bad work habit. Period.
This meeting was important. It would set the dynamics of the way the team would work together, and was a prime opportunity for her to let her philosophies be known and lay down her expectations, which were high. From here on out, each member of the prosecution team would work independently and have to rely on good communication to keep other team members apprised of developments.
Kate put a line through his name, then looked at her team. “We’ve got a lot to go over this morning, so I’ll catch Mr. Matrone up on things later.”
“That’s code for he’s toast,” David said under his breath.
Several people snickered. Kate shot David a pointed frown, then looked down at her notes. “Ellis allegedly committed a double murder and sexual assault while in the commission of an armed robbery.” She removed four neat folders from her briefcase and passed them out as she spoke. “The grand jury has already handed down a true bill of indictment. Arraignment is tomorrow.”
She looked around the room. “We will be trying this as a capital case, so if any of you receive any inquiries from the media—no matter how casual that inquiry may appear—you are to refer them to our public information office. I’ve prepared a folder for each of you containing an agenda for this morning’s meeting, contact information for all of us, including the number and e-mail address of the lead detective working the case. Also enclosed is the timeline set forth for the case by District Attorney Mike Shelley. I’d like to adhere to this timeline as closely as possible. I’ve also included copies of police reports, crime scene photographs, and a manifest of evidence at DPD.”
Once again seating herself at the table, she reached into her briefcase and put on her reading glasses. “Regarding evidence, Dallas PD has maintained a chain of custody. No evidence will come to this office. If we need to see something, we will drive over to the evidence cage and sign in, making sure we have a police officer with us at all times. We don’t want some defense attorney trying to get evidence tossed because one of us contaminated it. We’re going to prosecute this case by the book. And we’re going to get our conviction.”
“Do we know yet who the defense is going to be?”
Kate nodded. “Aaron Napier.”
David made a dramatic sound and reacted as if he’d been punched. “He’s good.”
“So are we,” Kate countered. “We’ve got a solid case and the evidence to back it up.” She looked around the room. ??
?This was a brutal, cold-blooded crime. It’s important to remember that the two victims were people. Two women who were mothers with children and grandchildren. They had lives and people who loved them. They didn’t deserve to get gunned down like animals.”
Kate picked up the videotape. She’d wanted to view it in the privacy of her office before watching it with her team. But Detective Bates hadn’t gotten it to her until just a few minutes ago. She was anxious to see it.
“The video we are about to watch is from the Snack and Gas security camera.” She passed the tape to Liz.
Liz Gordon inserted the tape, dimmed the lights, then hit a button on the VCR. The room went silent as the grainy black-and-white video brought the pull-down screen to life. Like most security-camera video, the quality was poor. One of the victims was off camera. But Evangeline Worth was standing behind the counter when Bruton Ellis walked into the store. Watching her, it was clear the young mother of four had had no idea that these were the last moments of her life.
Kate had seen plenty of violence in the years she’d worked in the DA’s office. She was no stranger to crime scenes or crime-scene photographs or witness accounts of violence. She no longer outwardly flinched at the inhumanities mankind could inflict upon itself. But deep inside, she recoiled with aversion when Ellis gunned down first Irma Trevino, then Evangeline Worth. That aversion augmented into revulsion when he unzipped his fly, got down on his knees, and took her from behind like an animal.
Vaguely Kate was aware of her team members shifting uncomfortably in their chairs, and she was suddenly very glad the lights had been dimmed. She could feel the old rage building inside her, like a tumor festering and swelling until she thought she would burst from the pressure.
She knew what it was like to be a victim. She knew what it was like to have choice and dignity stripped away. She knew what it was like to be hurt and terrified and humiliated. To be the object of another’s savage cruelty and helpless to stop it.