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Jimmy had been trying to tie Shawna down for a meeting for weeks without success, so he was surprised when he finally got a text saying she had a few minutes. She probably knew he would be in the courthouse, since Dan’s trial was in progress. She probably also knew he should be in the courtroom with Dan. Was that the reason for the text? He couldn’t be sure.
That was the insidious thing about suspicion, or as his husband Hank called it, paranoia. Once you started suspecting people, you were tumbling down a slippery slope. You started reinterpreting everything. Like Lex Luthor. First Lex suspected Superboy intentionally used his super-breath to make his hair fall out, then he started suspecting the Kryptonian must be pretending to be good so he could take over—and then he was an insane super-villain.
Jimmy did not want to become an insane super-villain.
Regardless of the doubts flooding his brain, this was a rare opportunity to chat with the Pinellas County Court Clerk, a woman who others might perceive as a glorified secretary or paper-pusher, but who actually wielded a great deal of power and control over the courthouse proceedings. If anyone could give him insight into the strange administrative occurrences that seemed to plague them every time they had a major case, Shawna would be the one.
To his surprise, she asked him to meet her, not in her office, but on the ground floor outside the day-care facility provided for parents who worked at the courthouse. He found her peering through the window in the door. He tried to read her facial expression, but he lacked Dan’s gift. He’d have better luck reading her thoughts if she’d been drawn into a comic book.
He stood beside her. “Do you have someone in there?”
Shawna seemed startled. She turned awkwardly. “Oh no. No kids. Never married. I just like to...watch. I don’t see children much these days. I used to play with my sister’s kids, but they’re mostly grown now.”
“Regrets?”
“Not really. I’ve had a good life. Better than most.”
“And you have a nephew, right? The one you’re putting through college.”
“Oh yes. Morgan. Good boy. Wants to be a doctor. I try to help when I can.”
“I’d say you help a lot. College tuition these days? I don’t know how you afford it. He must be a major expense for you.”
Her eyes turned downward. “You have no idea. Wanna go for a walk?”
“Sure.” They passed the metal detectors and exited through the back double doors. A few moments later they were on the street. He turned left on the sidewalk, not for any good reason. If they needed a table, he knew a great coffeeshop that way.
“All right,” Shawna asked, “what did you want to talk about? You called this meeting.”
But you agreed to it. Finally. Why? “Do you know the court reporter who took the depositions in Dan’s case? Marjorie.”
“Oh yes. I’ve met her.”
“Know anything about her?”
“Not much. Why?”
“I don’t know. I get a bad vibe.”
“Seriously? A vibe? What are you, a surfer dude?”
“Maria says her purse is too expensive.”
“Oh, well then. Lock her up.”
“Come on, Shawna. Give me something.”
Shawna drew in her breath, then slowly released it. “Your instincts are good. Keep a careful eye on her. Get a different court reporter if possible.”
“Too late. The depos are done. Why? What did she do? Or what is she planning to do?”
“I don’t know. I wasn't there. Just keep a close eye on her. That’s all I can tell you. And I’m only telling you that because you’re a friend. And because you make fabulous brownies.”
He acknowledged the compliment—even though Dan made the brownies.
She continued. “And because...unlike most people, I think you actually care.”
“Surely you can give me more. There’s been some weird stuff going on in this case. All our cases, really. Everything that’s happened since Dan joined the team.”
“Then maybe you should be talking to Dan.”
“I do, constantly. But I think the problem is that ever since Dan joined us, he’s been on Conrad Sweeney’s radar.”
Shawna definitely reacted to the mention of the name, but he wasn’t sure how to read it. “Dan’s got Sweeney in the courtroom now. Isn’t that enough?”
“Depends. Dan is convinced the courtroom consultation rooms—basically the only place in the courthouse lawyers can go for a private conversation—have been bugged.”
“We did an electronic sweep. We found nothing.”
“So you reported. When Dan was defending Camila, be became convinced that even private conversations held in the judge’s chambers were being overheard.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Did your electronic sweep including the judges’ chambers?”
“Of course not. They would be offended by the suggestion.”
“Did you ask them?”
She turned her head. “So you’re accusing me of criminal activity.”
“I’m...giving you an opportunity to talk to a friendly audience. If you have something you’d like to say. And I think you do.”
She looked edgy, but she wasn’t running away. There was something she wanted. “About what?”
“We still don’t know who stole that silver flask from the evidence locker. During Camila’s case.”
“You think I did that?”
“In fact, I do not. You wouldn’t have access to the police department, much less the evidence locker. But I thought it was just possible you might know...who did.”
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Now I’m getting seriously offended. You’re accusing me of being a criminal.”
Jimmy licked his lips. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, Shawna. In fact, I know you aren’t. But I think it’s possible...you got in over your head. And now you can’t get out.”
All at once, her eyes appeared wide and moist. “Stop. Please. Just stop.” She turned away.
He started walking again. After they’d travelled about half a block, he spoke. “You know what Superman says? In the first Christopher Reeve movie?”
“I’m sure I do not.”
“Confession is good for the soul.”
“Confession is what gets you put away for life.”
So that was her concern. It probably started small, nothing of great consequence, but once Sweeney had her under his thumb, he pushed for more and more and she couldn’t risk saying no. He’d expose her without incriminating himself, and there would be nothing she could do to save herself. It all made a gruesome sort of sense—and was exactly how Sweeney liked to do business. Making offers people couldn’t possibly refuse.
Maybe if he came at it from a different direction. “Did you read about the big bust? Dan help the cops apprehend some organ smugglers.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Can you imagine? Live cargo. Kidnapping young women so they can be harvested for their organs.”
He could still see the tears trying to break out. “I believe it. I can definitely believe it.”
“Do you know...something about it?”
“That bust? No. But the organ black market. Unfortunately, I do.”
“How?”
“You know that nephew of mine?”
“Morgan. The one you’re helping financially.”
The first tear slipped through the sluice. “There’s more to it than tuition. Much more. He has a serious genetic condition. A kidney ailment. By the time he was fifteen, he needed a transplant. The hospital put him on the list, and he was on dialysis for months, in bad shape. We were worried that he would die before a kidney became available.”
He stopped and peered at her, almost in disbelief. He liked to believe he had his ear to the pavement, that he knew what was going on in the community. But he’d never heard a word about this.
“My sister is a wonderful caring mother...but not a...strong person, if you know what I mean. I had to take the reins. I had to make decisions and seize opportunities that I would later regret.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I learned everything there was to know about the black market for human organs.”
“Shawna...I had no idea.”
“Organ traffic is strictly regulated in the US. But that didn’t prevent the black market. In a way, that created it. Last time I looked at the statistics, there were over 120,000 people waiting for organs in this country—and eighteen of them die every day because they can’t get an organ in time. One organ donor could potentially save eight lives. So you see why donors are so valuable—especially live donors. That’s why that cartel was smuggling people. Organ harvesting is only viable if the organ still has blood and oxygen flowing through it when harvested. A dead, even brain-dead donor can’t donate. But a living donor can give a kidney, intestine, pancreas, corneas, or a part of their liver.”
“I wondered about that. Transporting live bodies seems so much more complicated.”
“It is. But also far more profitable.” She started walking again, eyes straight forward. “These cartels are new to the game. Most black-market organ donors have arrangements with funeral-home directors. The rich can buy an organ. But that doesn’t provide nearly enough. People have been killed for their organs, like an old car sold for its parts. A Georgia teenager was found dead a few years back. Looked like a freak accident, like he got trapped under a gym mat and suffocated. Buy when the pathologist did an autopsy, he found the corpse stuffed with newspaper.”
Jimmy winced. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not. The boy was missing his liver, heart, lungs, and brain.”
“That’s...hideous.”
“It’s not an isolated event. Every year there are suspicious deaths involving victims who turn out to be missing vital organs.”
He took a moment to collect himself. “Are kidneys hard to find?”
“The worst. The most in-demand body part. The demand has reached epidemic level. In the US, almost 100,000 people are waiting for a kidney. Half will die before they get one. Rich buyers pay around $150,000, though some have paid more, especially when time is of the essence. Of that, about $5000 typically goes to the donor. The rest goes to the broker. In countries like China, brokers openly advertise. ‘Donate a kidney, get a new iPad!’ People sometimes advertise their kidneys for sale on Craigslist. On the dark web, you can buy organ packages from overseas sellers costing thousands of dollars. With that kind of profit margin, it was inevitable that organized crime would get involved.”
“Like the cartel.”
“Exactly. And there are lots of them, as you’d expect, since it’s so profitable. Even doctors sometimes can’t resist money like that. There have been cases of US doctors treating patients for non-existent ailments as a means to remove organs without their knowledge or consent. A few years back, I talked to an agent from the World Health Organization. He told me that about 11,000 organs are obtained on the black market every year. That an illegal organ is sold every hour of every day.”
“Why would he tell you that?”
She looked straight into his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“He was telling you to make a black market deal.”
“He was telling me that if I didn’t, Morgan was going to die.”
“And to make that happen, you needed money. A lot of money.”
“And unfortunately, charitable organizations won’t give you money for an illegal transaction. Make-a-Wish could send Morgan to Disney World—but it couldn’t get him a kidney in time.”
“So...you did.”
“With help. Financial and otherwise.”
He took the giant leap. “Because Sweeney has been involved with this cartel for decades. He would know exactly where to go. And could afford to go there.”
She looked at Jimmy with sorrowful eyes, but said nothing.
“Once you were in deep with Sweeney, you couldn’t get out. He had you where he wanted you. He threatened to expose you if you didn’t give him everything he wanted. And no matter what you did for him, he always wanted more.”
“But Morgan is alive. And healthy. And on track for medical school.”
He stopped and laid his hand on her shoulder. “Shawna...I don’t think there’s anyone on earth who would blame you for doing what you did.”
“I’m pretty sure the FBI would.”
He knew what she meant. They might be sympathetic. But she’d still committed a crime. And the FBI couldn’t overlook that, not in such a controversial arena. Especially not if a cartel was involved. “Come clean. We’ll protect you. We’ll represent you if charges are filed.”
“You can win if your client is guilty. And confesses.”
“You’ll never be happy—or safe—until you come clean.”
“You just want me to accuse Sweeney to help Dan’s lawsuit. To get even with Sweeney.”
“It’s not about vengeance. It’s about learning the truth.”
“Sometimes the truth is best left buried.” She checked her phone. “Look, my break ended ten minutes ago. I need to get back to the office.”
He held tight to her wrist. “You don’t have to live like this.”
“I’m fine.”
“You need to get this noose off your neck. And we need a level playing field. We’re not going to win this suit if Sweeney knows every move we make.”
She shook her head. “There is so much more at stake than your little lawsuit.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“You think you’ve seen or detected all of Sweeney’s skullduggery—but you haven’t even come close.”
“What? What does he have planned?”
“You’ve can’t even imagine. He wouldn’t be in that courtroom if he didn’t see an advantage to himself. He would’ve paid you a little money and made it go away. But he doesn’t want that. He wants to destroy Daniel Pike. And every member of the firm. Including you.”
He leaned in closer. “What is Sweeney planning?”
She twisted away. “I have to go.”
“Tell me what you meant.”
She glared at him. “Have you not been paying attention? People have been shot. Assassinated. And not just you buddy and his informant. Random people whose only crime was being near Daniel Pike. Like you are every day. Like Maria is. And Garrett. These people are playing for keeps. You cross them and you’re dead.”
“That’s not—”
“I don't want to end up dead. I don’t want Morgan dead. Or my sister. Or anyone else.” She shook herself free. “Just leave me alone!”
“Shawna, stop!”
“If you have any sense,” she said, backing away from him, “you’ll let this go. Because you will get nothing good from digging around in this. The truth will not make anyone happy. Especially not if they’re dead.”