Owen read the message on her phone for the fifth time, but she still couldn’t glean the underlying meaning. Can we meet before getting started this morning? With my client. It had come in a few minutes ago, right after she and Kira and Mary had gathered in her office to go over final details for the day ahead.
She showed it to Mary. “What do you think it means?”
“I think it means Mark Ramsey wants to meet with you before opening statements this morning.”
Owen rolled her eyes. “I can tell that much on my own. You know what I’m asking.”
“Maybe you should ask Summer,” Kira said. “She probably knew before you got the text.”
Owen resisted a smart remark, instead saying, “Have you checked downstairs to see if the mayor and the commissioner are here yet?”
“Maybe Fuentes wants a plea.”
“Now? He’s asking for the first time after the trial has already started?”
“Have you ever made an offer?”
“Ron floated an offer to him right after indictment, before I took over the case. Forty years. Ramsey turned it down within an hour.”
“Do you think he even took it to Fuentes?”
Owen considered for a moment. Some attorneys might reject an offer out of hand, but Ramsey was a stand-up guy. “No, he would’ve told him about it. That early in the case, Fuentes probably thought he should wait and see, but I would’ve expected an overture like this to come up before today.”
“Assuming a plea is what he wants. Maybe it’s something else.” Mary pointed at the phone. “Only one way to find out. We have an hour before we have to be in court. You go meet with him and I’ll wrangle witnesses with Kira.”
“Fine. I’ll try to use the jury room in the court next door. I don’t want to do this in the holdover where everyone can hear. Do you mind setting it up with Dalton?”
While Mary called downstairs to secure the location, she typed a text to Ramsey and kept it short. Meet you in fifteen minutes. Jury room for the 368th.
They gathered their files and headed for the elevator. Owen pushed the down button and the doors immediately opened to reveal Summer and Faith standing inside. Faith was wearing a visitor badge. Owen stepped to the side to let them off.
“Are you already headed downstairs?” Summer asked. “I hope it’s okay we’re early.”
“Hi, Owen.” Faith grinned. “I was going to bring you a breakfast taco, but Mom said we didn’t have time if I wanted to get a good seat. I hope it’s still okay I came with.”
“Bummed about the breakfast taco, but of course it’s okay you’re here,” Owen said, doing her best to maintain a professional appearance in front of Mary, but suspecting she was failing miserably. “Mary, this is Faith, Summer’s daughter. She’s doing a report on different professions and she’s going to sit in for opening today.”
Mary shook Faith’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” She pointed at the elevator. “O, I’m going to go on ahead and make sure Dalton can set up the room.”
She winked before she turned and walked away, and Owen knew she’d have some explaining to do later.
“Everything okay?” Summer asked.
“Yes. Fuentes’s attorney wants to meet with us before we get started, so I should get down there.”
“That’s okay, we’ll go grab seats. I hear it’s going to be a full house. You’ll be great.” Summer pushed the button for the elevator.
“Wait.” Owen’s mind whirred with a sudden impulse. “Why don’t you come with me? You wanted to meet Fuentes and this is the perfect opportunity. It’ll only be for a few minutes and Dalton can make sure Faith gets a good seat.”
“Sure. That sounds great.”
The door to the elevator opened again and they rode down to the seventh floor. In addition to the regular courthouse traffic, the hallway outside the courtroom was swimming with press, jockeying for the best position to capture images of the attorneys arriving for court. Owen avoided the crowd by ducking into the courtroom next door and leading Summer and Faith through the door by the jury box.
She pointed to the right. “We can take this hallway to Judge Whalen’s courtroom next door.” At that moment, Dalton stepped out of a room to their left. “Hi, Dalton. Are we all set?”
He nodded. “Mary’s already in there. If it’s okay with you, I’ll let Kira bring Fuentes over. I’ve got to deal with a few things for the judge before we get started.”
“Thanks for your help.” She put a hand on Faith’s shoulder. “This is Faith, Summer’s daughter. Would you mind taking her over with you so she can snag a seat?”
“Not in the least.” Dalton reached out and took Faith’s hand. “Come on. I’ll show you the best place to sit to see everything.”
Faith waved at them as she walked away.
“She’s never going to stop talking about this,” Summer said. “You’ve made her year.”
“Until she falls asleep watching all the boring bits.” She pointed at the jury room where they were going to meet with Fuentes. “Thanks for doing this. I value your impressions.”
“Even if you still think they’re a bit on the woo-woo side.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
They stood staring at each other for a moment, and Owen wished the trial was over and they could blow off the rest of the day doing something fun.
“Me too,” Summer said. “But it’ll be over soon enough.”
“Hey, you did that on purpose.”
“Read your mind? I couldn’t help it. You were thinking really loudly.”
“Or maybe you’re just getting to know me.” Owen didn’t care which it was as long as she could spend more time with Summer, and the sooner they finished this trial, the sooner she could indulge her desires. She placed her hand on the door. “Ready?”
✥ ✥ ✥
Summer followed Owen through the door, and noted it was set up exactly like the jury room she’d spent several hours in a few weeks ago. Large table ringed with chairs. A counter off to the side with a coffee maker and a random assortment of mugs. Mark Ramsey was sitting at the table by himself and he looked up when she and Owen entered. She followed Owen’s lead and sat on the same side of the table as her, leaving the seat next to Ramsey open for his client.
“Kira will be here in a minute with Fuentes,” Owen said.
“That’s okay. I want to go ahead and fill you in before he gets here.” Mark flipped to a sheet in his notebook. “I found out yesterday that Arthur has stage four pancreatic cancer.”
Owen’s eyes widened. “And you just found this out? How is that possible?”
“Because he didn’t tell anyone. I found out by accident. I contacted his wife, make that ex-wife, to see if she had any records of counseling he’d received for mental health issues—for mitigation in case we get to sentencing. Arthur said he didn’t keep any papers and didn’t want me to bother, but I felt like I needed to dig a little deeper. She gave me a packet of medical bills, most of which had never been opened.” He sighed. “I’m probably breaking all kinds of HIPAA rules telling you all of this, but it appears he was diagnosed last year and now the only treatment available is palliative. He’s dying.”
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with this information,” Owen said. “What are you asking for?”
“I’m asking you to show some mercy and offer him a deal. Something where he doesn’t have to spend the rest of his life in prison.”
“But you’re telling me he’s dying. How long does he have?”
“Not long.” Summer put a hand up to her mouth as if she could shove the words back inside. “Sorry. My grandfather died of it. Once you reach stage four, the survival rate is very low.”
“She’s right,” Mark said. “I don’t have a medical answer, if that’s what you’re looking for, but he’s looking at probably less than a year.”
“And you want me to let him plead in exchange for less than a year on a murder charge?” Owen asked.
“If you go through with the trial and get a conviction, he could get compassionate release.”
“Or you could present evidence during sentencing about his medical condition. If the jury sympathizes with him, they could sentence him on the low end.”
“With his priors, they still couldn’t give him anything below twenty years.”
“Wait a minute. Now I get it. You’re asking me to reduce the charge. Take the prior convictions off the indictment and open up the range of punishment.”
“I get it’s a long shot,” Mark said, his tone pleading. “Will you at least talk to him before you decide?”
Owen looked at Summer like she was seeking advice, and Summer was conflicted, but she didn’t feel like she could decide anything in the abstract and neither could Owen. It won’t hurt to meet him.
Owen nodded at her and turned to Mark. “No promises, but I’ll listen to what he has to say.”
As if on cue, Kira walked through the door with Fuentes. He was wearing the same suit as he had been the day before, but with no jury in sight, he was still cuffed at the ankles and hands. She led him to the chair next to Ramsey and stood a couple of feet behind. Summer could tell Kira was surprised to see her there, but she avoided eye contact and faux scribbled some notes in the pad she’d brought with her in an effort to avoid attracting attention.
Mark turned to his client. “Arthur, I just filled Ms. Lassiter in on your medical situation. She may have a few questions for you. Go ahead and tell her whatever she wants to know.”
“NO!”
Summer’s head whipped up from her notebook at the loud declarative, but everyone was sitting quietly as if nothing had happened. She met Fuentes’s eyes, and immediately a loud string of phrases started playing on a loop. “Keep your mouth shut and we’ll take care of your kids.” “Scare her.” “She wasn’t supposed to die. She fought back.” “Keep your mouth shut if you want us to take care of your kids.” “Scare her.” “She wasn’t supposed to die. She fought back.” “Keep your mouth shut. Keep your mouth shut. Keep your mouth shut.”
The litany grew louder and louder. Summer put her hands to her ears, but it wouldn’t abate, and the constant pounding was making her nauseous.
“Are you okay?”
Owen’s voice broke the pounding cycle, and Summer felt the nausea ebb away. “Sorry, I felt a little faint.” She swallowed hard. “I’m okay now.”
Owen stared at her for a moment like she wanted to say something else, before turning back to Fuentes. “Your attorney tells me you’re ill and you’d like to plead guilty in exchange for a light sentence.” She waited a beat, but Fuentes didn’t respond. “Do you have anything to say about that?”
Fuentes barely looked up before he shook his head.
“Keep your mouth shut. Keep your mouth shut.”
Summer looked around, but no one else appeared to be registering the words.
“Mr. Fuentes, I can’t do anything for you if you won’t talk. I’m not saying a plea deal is even an option, but if it is, you’re going to have to swear out a confession in open court. Are you prepared to do that?”
“Keep your mouth shut. Keep your mouth shut. Keep your mouth shut.”
“Who is telling you not to talk? Who hired you to threaten Carrie Adams? What did they promise you in return?”
Summer could hear the questions, each one louder than the other, but it wasn’t until she noticed everyone in the room staring in her direction that she realized she’d been the one asking. Holy shit. Owen was looking at her like she’d grown a second head and she wanted to run from the room, but another voice vied for her attention and compelled her to stay.
“He didn’t do this on his own. I fought back and the gun went off. He didn’t mean to kill me until it was too late. Dig deeper.”
Carrie Adams. Summer could almost see her now, standing behind Fuentes, a shadowy figure with a vague resemblance to the photo she’d seen in the war room. Summer closed her eyes and saw the whole scene play out. Fuentes creeping up behind her. He said something she couldn’t make out. Carrie turned, saw him, and immediately tried to fight him off. There was a struggle and the gun went off, both of them surprised to see the red blossom across Carrie’s abdomen.
“You didn’t go there to kill her, but you panicked. Why won’t you tell us what happened? Who hired you?”
Fuentes sat ramrod straight, refusing to make eye contact with her, but Owen was already out of her seat, leading her to the door. When they were on the other side of it, the spell broke again and Summer sagged against the wall, dizzy and spent.
“What the hell just happened?”
Owen was standing with her hands on her hips, her eyes blazing with anger. Summer didn’t blame Owen for her reaction since she’d only heard one side of the conversation, but it was her job to make her understand. She had to make her understand. “He wasn’t acting on his own. Someone paid him to threaten Carrie Adams or promised to take care of his kids after he died, but when he showed up at the house, she fought him, and the gun went off. He panicked and fired twice more before he ran out of the house. The police didn’t find anything taken from the house because he wasn’t there for any reason other than to threaten Mrs. Adams. The question is who hired him and why?”
“Do you realize how crazy you sound right now?”
Summer looked into Owen’s eyes, but gone was the ardent lover who’d stolen kisses from her in her office yesterday morning and shared tacos with her family last night. That person was replaced by someone who thought she was a crackpot. Summer took a deep breath to steady her voice and spoke with as much confidence as she could muster. “Owen, there’s a bigger picture here. You can walk into that courtroom, convince a jury to convict that man, and close this case, but I’m telling you something else is going on and you are going to wish you’d dug deeper to get to the truth.”
“Why did you quit your job in Santa Cruz?”
Owen’s question was a gut punch, but Summer braced for the impact of this conversation. “I don’t like to talk about it. Besides, it’s not like you can’t google it.”
“I did. People were upset with the DA for relying on your ‘gift’ to prosecute his cases, but there was something else, wasn’t there?”
“Yes.” Summer took a deep breath, dreading telling Owen about her failure, but knowing she had to. “A girl died because I was wrong. I thought I had answers, but I was wrong. If you looked me up, you must know that already.”
Owen nodded. “Because you didn’t know where she was. How could you have? You were guessing.” She clenched her jaw and her gentle resignation turned to anger. “Mia shouldn’t have made me hire you.” She pointed at the door. “That guy in there has been in the system before and he knows how to work it. He’s working you. Those vibes you’re getting? It’s him playing on your sympathy and you’re filling in the rest. We’re done with the extrasensory consulting. This ‘gift’ you supposedly have is a distraction. I need you to leave, so I can focus on winning this case on the facts and the evidence, not wild conjecture.”
Summer wanted to argue, but she knew Owen wasn’t in a place where she would hear anything she had to say. In less than thirty minutes, the trial would start, and she was under tremendous pressure to perform, to win. Summer couldn’t blame her for being angry, for not wanting to listen to anything that would disrupt her theory of the case. So, yeah, she wasn’t surprised at Owen’s response, but damn, she was disappointed.
✥ ✥ ✥
“What the hell happened in there?” Kira asked.
Owen was standing in the empty jury room trying to process the answer to that very question. She sure didn’t need Kira breathing down her neck about it. She’d told Mark no plea deal, especially since Fuentes didn’t appear inclined to say anything to anyone beyond the supposed telegraphed thoughts he’d sent to Summer, but they didn’t prove Fuentes was innocent, only less culpable, assuming they were even true.
Whatever had just happened, she needed to move past it and focus on her opening statement and the first few witnesses. “Is the mayor here?”
Kira nodded. “You want me to bring him back?”
“Yes.” Owen knew she was being unnecessarily curt, but she didn’t have any extra energy for pleasantries, not to mention she was embarrassed that Kira had witnessed Summer’s meltdown during the meeting with Fuentes. Maybe meltdown was a strong word, but Summer’s behavior was like nothing she’d ever seen. She’d seemed almost possessed, like she was echoing the words of someone else, parroting questions only she could hear.
Which was exactly what a medium would do—channel messages from the dead. Right? Assuming she believed Summer really was getting messages from the dead, was Carrie Adams the one doing the talking, and was she calling into question Fuentes’s culpability? Seemed unlikely considering she was dead as a direct result of his actions. But what had Summer asked Fuentes? Who hired you? In the moment, she’d thought the question was out of line, but hadn’t she had similar thoughts with regard to Commissioner Adams? Why had she been so quick to dismiss Summer on the same topic?
“You wanted to see me?”
Mayor Heller filled the doorway with his imposing frame. Years ago, he’d played college ball and would’ve gone pro but for a debilitating knee injury that took him out of commission his senior year. He’d traded his sports stardom for a political career that consisted of several terms in the state legislature and back-to-back terms as mayor of Dallas. Unlike Commissioner Adams who was universally liked, Heller had a reputation as a bully, ramming his agenda down the throats of his adversaries, which made them an odd couple whenever they joined forces on an issue that affected the city.
She invited him to have a seat. “I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to review your testimony one more time before I put you on the stand today.”
“Happy to help.”
Owen took him through a few foundational questions about how he knew Commissioner Adams, and then got into the meat of his testimony, a preemptive defense to any claim Ramsey might make that the police had been negligent in their investigation by not considering the commissioner as a suspect. “How long were you with Commissioner Adams on the evening of his wife’s death?”
“We’d met for drinks around five, and after a couple of rounds, we decided to grab dinner, so we moved to a table in the restaurant. You’d have to check the tab for the exact time, but I was with him until he got the call that his house had been broken into.”
Owen asked a couple more questions and decided she was satisfied they didn’t need to cover anything else. “Thanks for being here this morning. I know it’s hard to wait around when I’m sure you have a lot on your schedule.”
“This is the most important thing on my schedule today.” He shook his head. “Such a tragedy.”
He said the right things, but it sounded more like a sound bite than actual sympathy for Carrie Adams or the commissioner. She stood to signal they were done, but he didn’t move out of his chair.
“I heard a rumor you’re thinking about a deal. Is that true?”
“Who told you that?”
“Your investigator. She also mentioned you’ve got some kind of psychic working on this case and the psychic thinks this guy Fuentes was hired to kill Adams’s wife. You’re not taking that seriously, are you? I thought he had an extensive record of breaking into houses.”
While he was talking, the hair on the back of Owen’s neck stood up, but she couldn’t put her finger on what was causing the alarm. On top of that, she was boiling mad at Kira for blabbing about Summer to the mayor. Kira had crossed a line. It was her own fault for thinking Kira’s growing animosity would eventually dissipate, but if they weren’t already knee-deep in this case, she’d kick her off the team right now. “We take all leads seriously, Mr. Mayor. I’m sure you want us to be thorough, don’t you?” She started walking toward the door, and he stood, finally getting the hint she was ready for him to leave.
She waited until he was out of sight and then texted Kira, asking her to come back to the jury room. When Kira arrived, she didn’t bother with any niceties. “Have you seen Adams?”
“About that. He’s here but his aide said he was talking to Summer.”
Dammit. Could things spiral any more out of control? Owen looked at her watch. She should already be in the courtroom and Mary was probably wondering where she was. She definitely wanted Adams in there, representing the victim, before they got started, but she also wanted to talk to Summer. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“The aide said they got into the elevator and he wasn’t sure where they were going. I think he was under the impression that Summer was part of the prosecution team.”
Owen heard the derisive tone in Kira’s voice and her immediate instinct was to defend Summer. “She is part of the prosecution team, which is more than I can say for you. Since when do you think it’s okay to blab about conversations we have behind closed doors to witnesses in a case? Yes, the mayor told me what you said about Summer.”
Kira’s face flushed red. Owen felt bad for blowing up at her now when she hadn’t stood up for Summer in the moment. Why hadn’t that been her first instinct when Summer tried to tell her something was off about Fuentes or about the murder? Were the voices Summer heard any less credible than her own gut feelings? She needed to find Summer and make things right, and she knew one person who might know where she was.