The Christmas Present. Tracy WolffЧитать онлайн книгу.
I want to know,” she commented, pulling out a notepad to record the conversation, “is how come your P.D. didn’t apply to have the case heard in juvenile court? You’re only sixteen, right?”
“Mr. Williams said the judge wouldn’t move it. The crime was too big a deal and I’m too close to eighteen.”
“‘Close’ only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,” she muttered, shaking her head in disgust. She might not know her way around the criminal justice system the way Diego’s P.D. had, but she recognized laziness when she saw it. “We’re going to give it a shot.”
“Why?” Diego asked. “Wouldn’t it be better to try my case in front of a jury?”
“Who told you that?” she demanded.
“Mr. Williams.”
She shot Rafael a disgusted look. “I take it you’re the one responsible for getting rid of this guy?” she asked.
He snorted. “Every single thing that came out of his mouth struck me as idiotic.”
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all evening.” She turned back to Diego, but not before she saw the flash of annoyance in Rafael’s eyes. Good, let him be on the receiving end of the digs for a while. She’d had enough of his nasty attitude and nastier comments. It was past time for her to get a little of her own back.
Resting her hand gently on top of Diego’s, she turned her back on his mentor and said, “The evidence in your case is far from rock solid.”
“Because I didn’t do it.”
“I know,” she answered soothingly. “But that’s why we want you in front of a judge in the juvenile system. Judges look only at the evidence, while juries, despite their best intentions, are often swayed by photographs and emotions.” She made sure she was looking into his eyes before continuing. “The photos in this case are particularly brutal, so—”
“I saw them.” This time he couldn’t hold back the tears.
“When?” she demanded, suddenly furious. “Williams didn’t—”
“No, not him. The police made me look at them, when they questioned me.”
“What did your lawyer say?”
“I didn’t have one then.”
She stared at him. “You were questioned without an attorney? Were your parents there?”
He shrugged. “My family, we’re not real tight like that. I’ve been staying here for the past few months.”
Her gaze shot to Rafael. “Were you there?”
He shook his head grimly. “I was out of town when all this went down. Diego sat in jail for four days until I got back and found out about it.”
“This whole thing has been a joke from start to finish.” Vivian rubbed her hands over her tired eyes. “I need you to walk me through this whole thing.”
“Can’t you just read the file?” Rafael objected. “He’s already told the story a bunch of times.”
“I have read the file, Mr. Cardoza, but I need to hear it from him. Besides, he needs to get used to telling it, as he’ll be saying it again and again—to me, to the judge and to whomever else I deem necessary.”
She turned to Diego. “I know it’s hard to talk about what happened to Esme and your baby, but I need to know everything. Don’t leave anything out, no matter how insignificant you think it might be. At least not now, not with me.”
She held her hand up when Rafael started to protest, and in the steely voice she reserved for deadbeat dads and abusive husbands, said, “You went through a lot of trouble to get my law firm to take this case, so why don’t you cut the guard-dog routine and give me a chance to do my job? Otherwise you should have stayed with Williams.”
“He trusts me and I’m not going to let you waltz in here and turn him inside out for your own enjoyment.”
Her mouth dropped open before she even had a shot at finding her poker face, and she finally felt her temper snap. “My own enjoyment? Look, you jerk, I can think of a lot of things I’d enjoy more than sitting here listening to a child talk about murder, but I don’t have that option. And neither does he. Not if we want to win this thing.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Diego’s eyes widen and his hands clench, and she forced herself to take a few deep breaths as she worked to regain her composure. No matter how she felt about Rafael, Diego trusted him. “I assume that’s what we all want to do, isn’t it?”
Rafael refused to answer, but he didn’t object when she asked Diego, “When was the last time you saw Esme alive?”
He cast an uncertain look at the man, but started to speak when his mentor nodded at him. “About four o’clock, on the day she died.”
“January 12.”
“Yeah. I took her to her doctor, for her checkup. She was six months and pretty big, so he did another ultrasound. Just to check out the baby, you know?”
Vivian nodded and he continued, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the scarred conference table. “But everything was cool. He was growing like he was supposed to, swimming around in that amni—amni—”
“Amniotic fluid,” she supplied.
“Exactly. Esme’s weight was good, her blood pressure, everything. So he sent us home, told us to make an appointment in two weeks.”
“This was at the clinic on Washington, right?” she asked, glancing up.
“Right.” He wiped his hands on his jeans, his foot tapping in the same rhythm his fingers had been following a minute before. “I took her home and then headed over here. I had work.”
“Did you drive her home?”
“I don’t have a car. We took the bus and then I walked with her from the bus stop.”
“Did you see anyone you knew?”
“Where?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. On the bus. On the walk home. At her building.”
“I guess so. I never really thought about it.”
“So think about it now. Who did you see?”
His eyes narrowed as he concentrated. “I saw Nacho and Luis—they live in the building next to Esme’s.”
“Nacho?” She glanced at Rafael for confirmation.
He nodded. “Same kid.”
Diego looked at her questioningly, but let it go when she didn’t pursue the matter. “Anyone else?”
He thought for a second. “Esme’s oldest brother Ric. He was leaving when we were going in.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“Just said hello, you know? Nothing big. He and Esme don’t—didn’t—get along.”
Her antennae went up. “Really? Why not?”
“I don’t know. Esme pretty much thought he was a jerk, so we didn’t talk about him much.”
Vivian lifted her head, studied him carefully. “She never said anything about him? Never complained to you about him, never talked about buying him a birthday present? Nothing?”
“Well, sure, that kind of thing. But nothing major.”
“So tell me what she did say.”
“Everything?” he asked incredulously.
“Sure. Whatever you remember.”
“I don’t remember much. I mean, we were together for two years, so she said a lot about him, I guess.”
“You