Elsie made it to the courthouse early the next morning, hoping to run Breeon down before the judges started the morning docket. She headed directly to Bree’s office, but it was empty. A glance in the waste can showed that the garbage had been disposed of. Elsie was curious to know whether Breeon had spied the Alice Walker book in the trash. But she didn’t want to be too nosy; and if Breeon hadn’t seen the ketchup-spattered book, Elsie had no intention of snitching Taylor out.
She leaned into the reception area, where Stacie, the young receptionist, was behind her desk, unwrapping an Egg McMuffin.
“Have you seen Bree?”
Stacie looked up with a resentful face. “Well, that’s nice. Good morning to you, too.”
Elsie leaned against the door frame. “Sorry. Morning, Stacie. Have you seen Bree?”
Stacie bit into the breakfast sandwich and chewed before answering. Elsie kept a stoic face; if she sniped at the young woman, the information would be delayed even further.
She swallowed and said, “She headed down for coffee. With Madeleine.”
As Elsie walked past the reception desk, she muttered, “Well, that’s cozy.” Historically, Elsie had a strained relationship with Madeleine Thompson, the woman who held the title of Prosecuting Attorney of McCown County, Missouri. Though Elsie had served as assistant prosecutor under Madeleine for over four years, they had never enjoyed a friendly vibe—despite Elsie’s outstanding trial performance. In the past weeks, they had grown more civil; working as co-counsel on a recent murder case had been good for their professional connection.
But they still weren’t chummy.
She walked down the stairway at a slow pace, hesitant to broach the topic of Taylor in front of an audience. When she reached the courthouse coffee shop, she was unsettled to see Breeon and Madeleine seated at a table together, laughing.
“Cup of coffee, Elsie?” Tom, the coffee shop proprietor, picked up the pot.
“Thanks. Black, please. For here.”
Sipping the hot brew, she walked over to the Formica-topped table and paused. Breeon pushed a chair toward her. “You got here early this morning. Sit down, Elsie.”
She sat beside Bree, facing Madeleine. Her boss gave her a tight smile, making a bare movement of her eyebrows. Due to Madeleine’s addiction to Botox, her forehead didn’t budge. “Breeon was bringing me up to date on the preliminary hearing you all handled yesterday.”
Elsie blew a shrill whistle. “Bloodbath.”
“So I heard,” Madeleine said. She chuckled: a low sound in her throat, like a witch’s cackle. “Some dude?”
Breeon broke into laughter, and Elsie joined her; but Elsie’s laugh was hollow. It hadn’t been funny at the time.
The prior afternoon, when she was conducting the direct examination of the assault victim, she stood before her witness and spoke clearly.
“And sir, please tell the court: who was it that shot you with the rifle on the date in question?”
He shrugged. “Some dude.”
In fact, the “dude” who attempted to kill her witness was sitting right in front of him, at the defense counsel table.
Stunned by the nonresponsive answer—because Elsie had carefully prepped the witness prior to the hearing—she had repeated the question. That brought the defense attorney to his feet. While he raised his objection—“Asked and answered”—the state’s witness spoke again.
“I dunno, man. Some dude.”
The judge’s shoulders were shaking, but it wasn’t a comical moment for the prosecution. They would have lost, had the defense attorney not grown cocky. On cross-examination, he pointed at the witness and said, “So you have no idea who shot you with a firearm.”
The man said. “Yeah, well, he’s sitting right there. That dude.”
With a wave of his hand, the witness indicated the defendant. Elsie literally wiped sweat from her brow. The defense attorney tried to argue. “But sir, didn’t you just state under oath that you did not know who assaulted you?”
The witness scratched his head. “I don’t know his name, man.”
Recalling the scene the morning after, while Elsie nursed her coffee at the Formica-topped table in the coffee shop, she reflected that trial practice was rarely dull. Maddening, yes. But not boring.
Madeleine peered at Elsie over her bejeweled reading glasses. “I’ve told you before. A witness has to be properly prepared before he gets on the stand.”
Elsie opened her mouth to mount a defense, but Breeon beat her to it. “We both worked with him, Madeleine. For thirty minutes or more. That guy’s brain was fried long before he took a slug from that rifle. We should probably plea bargain.”
That’s just what I was about to say, Elsie thought, a touch sulky. To change the topic, she pasted on a smile and asked, “So Madeleine—how was the Missouri prosecutor’s conference?”
“Oh my word. The accommodations were wretched.” She pulled a napkin from the dispenser and wiped her hands, as if they were soiled.
Breeon leaned back in her seat and shot Madeleine a wink. “Did your husband go along? You all have a little second honeymoon?”
“Goodness, no. What would I have done to entertain him during the presentations?”
Madeleine’s husband was the John Deere distributor for three counties. Elsie wasn’t surprised that he’d opted out of the prosecutor’s convention.
Breeon eyed Madeleine over the coffee cup she held aloft. “I figured the convention might give you some time together. A little getaway.”
“Dennis isn’t particularly interested in getaways.” She paused, toying with an empty Sweet ‘n Low packet, and added, “As a couple. He’s tied down to his business. And hunting.”
A moment of silence followed. Elsie glanced away, remembering the one time she’d seen Madeleine and her husband together at home. They sniped at each other. In front of company. Money didn’t buy happiness, apparently.
Madeleine cleared her throat and said, “But they had an excellent session on search and seizure. I’ll share the notes.”
“That’s great,” Breeon said; while Elsie thought, I’ve already read the cases. Don’t need your goddamn notes. But she kept her mouth shut.
“And a woman from the U.S. Attorney’s Office in Kansas City gave a fascinating talk.”
Elsie snorted. “What do the Feds have to say that helps us with criminal prosecution at the state level?”
Madeleine gave her a frosty stare. “Human trafficking. The Western District of Missouri has prosecuted more sex trafficking cases this year than anywhere in the nation.”
Elsie’s eyes widened at the revelation. Breeon set her cup down and said, “Madeleine, what’s up with that? We can’t be the hotbed of the sex trade for the whole country.”
“Well, she said they’re being very proactive. But sex trafficking is a problem in the heartland. I was appalled to hear it.” She took a dainty sip from her coffee cup.
Elsie leaned forward, placing both elbows on the table as she focused on Madeleine. “Who are the victims?”
“Of sex trafficking? Both female and male, though more girls than boys.”
“Age?” Elsie asked.
Madeleine spoke in a whisper. “It’s shocking. Eleven to sixteen. And adults, too.”
Breeon stirred her coffee with a spoon. “How do they target the victims?”
Madeleine frowned, thinking. “Runaways, of course. That’s an old story. But the federal attorney said the new development has to do with outreach over the internet and through social media.”
“Huh,” Breeon said. “What kind of social media?”
“Oh, the websites that young girls like. That they tend to visit.”
Elsie’s forehead wrinkled. “Such as?”
“Those dating websites—what are they called? Is one something like Tenderheart? And the websites that advertise modeling careers for teenagers.”
Elsie knocked her coffee with a jerky hand, causing it to spill onto the tabletop. “Modeling websites?”
“Yes—modeling websites. Do you need a napkin? You’re making a mess.”
“Which modeling websites?” Elsie felt a tremor go through her, as if someone was walking on her grave.
“How would I know? Some are undoubtedly legitimate. They’re not all predators. But some, on the other hand. . . .” Madeleine stood, picking up a Dooney & Bourke briefcase. “I need to get up to my office. I’ll have Stacie reproduce my search and seizure notes. Look for them in your inbox today.”
“Will do,” Breeon said. Elsie gave a bare nod of her head.
Madeleine said, “And we need to have a meeting in my office this week. The three of us, and Chuck.”
Elsie looked up at her, curious. “What about?”
“Upcoming jury dockets. Judge Calvin has a panel assembling on Monday of next week.”
Elsie laughed. Madeleine gave her a disapproving look, so she masked the laughter with a cough and said, “Well, that will be a short meeting. Calvin’s an Associate Circuit Judge. He only tries misdemeanors before juries. Misdemeanors never go to the jury trial.”
Madeleine glanced away. “Sometimes they do.”
Bree broke in. “When do you want to meet, Madeleine? Afternoons are best for me.”
“I’ll let you know.” Without another word, she was gone.
Breeon was drinking the dregs of her coffee. Elsie cleared her throat and said, “Bree, I need to tell you something.”