Chapter 16
“Are you
absolutely positive that you didn’t get the days mixed up, Mrs. Lopez?” McCoy
questioned.
“Objection,” Morgan called from behind him. “Asked and answered.”
“Sustained,” Ianello decided.
With a
sigh of frustration, McCoy stated, “I have nothing further.”
As soon
as he had returned to his chair beside Southerlyn, Morgan stood. “The defense
rests.”
Ianello
nodded. “We will commence with closing statements this afternoon at
“Your Honor,
if I may, I would like to request that I be allowed the rest of the day to
review my closing, given the unusual circumstances of yesterday,” Morgan
suggested.
“Any
objections, Mr. McCoy?”
“No
objections.”
Picking
up his gavel, Ianello said, “Then we will resume tomorrow morning at
McCoy
purposely took his time gathering his meager paperwork and a notepad in order
to allow Morgan to leave first. He had no desire to see the satisfaction that
he was sure he would find if their eyes happened to meet.
“Was it
just my imagination or did Morgan seem a little distracted today?” Southerlyn
queried from beside him.
He turned
to look at her blankly, then replied, “She seemed fine to me.”
As they
began to walk toward the door, Southerlyn noted, “I thought she appeared a bit
preoccupied. Maybe she was just thinking about her closing.”
“What’s
there for her to think about? After Mrs. Lopez’s testimony, it’s a slam-dunk.
No matter how hard I tap dance tomorrow, and no matter how I try to get the
jury to focus on the M.E.’s time of death, I won’t be able to make them forget
that Fisher was having coffee at the same time Green said the girl was killed.
I’ll be surprised if they don’t bring back the not guilty verdict before
lunch.”
Southerlyn gave him a sideways look and, given his darkening mood,
decided to let the subject drop.
***Briscoe pulled his chiming cell phone from his
jacket pocket and touched the receive button. “Yeah?”
“Detective, this is Calea Morgan. I was wondering if you and I could
meet somewhere for a few minutes this afternoon. I’d like to talk with you
about something.”
He didn’t
bother hiding the anger and suspicion in his voice. “Talk about what? About
how, thanks to you, a rapist and murderer will soon be back on the streets?”
There was
a brief pause before Morgan responded in a quiet but sincere voice, “I need
your help, Lennie.”
***McCoy looked up at the sound of someone
tapping gently on his opened door.
“Abbie!”
he exclaimed with the first genuine smile to light his face in days. “What in
the world brings you here?”
“Well,
it’s about time,” he scolded, getting up to put an arm around her shoulders.
Giving her a quick squeeze, he guided her to a chair beside his desk. “Have a
seat.” When she had done so, he settled back into his own chair and asked, “How
are things going in the U.S. Attorney’s office?”
She
nodded. “Things are good. The work is not only interesting, but satisfying as
well.”
“I’m
sorry to hear that,” McCoy responded, shaking his head sadly. “I was hoping
that you were going to say things are terrible, and ask if you could come back
to work with me again.”
With a
grin,
McCoy
chuckled quietly. “I think you’d be surprised to hear how Serena stands up to
me lately. I’ve been wondering if maybe you put the idea into her head that
doing so would somehow be appreciated.”
“I did my
best to train her right,”
Although
the smile didn’t entirely leave McCoy’s face, it faded somewhat from his eyes
as he asked, “Not that I’m complaining, but why are you really here?”
Leaning
an elbow on his desk,
Despite
her teasing tone, McCoy’s eyes grew serious and his expression became slightly
defensive. “And what exactly have you been hearing?”
“I’m
sure,” he replied, with a look and tone that left no room for doubt. “And if
you were the one filling second chair on this case, you’d be sure, too.”
“From what
I heard, the case against Fisher wasn’t very strong going in.”
“That
doesn’t mean he isn’t guilty.”
“So given
what happened yesterday, is there any chance you can still win the trial?”
“Most
likely not,” he admitted, frustration seeping into his voice. “Is there some
reason why you’re asking all of these questions?”
“Like I
said, I just wanted to hear things from your perspective.”
“As
opposed to Calea’s,” he suggested dryly. “And what is her perspective on the
whole situation?”
“My
ethics are fine. If they weren’t I’d be facing sanctions as we speak,
considering that Calea did her best to convince a judge to impose them.” He
shook his head. “I’ve acted no differently in this case than I have in any
other. If she expected special treatment because of our past friendship, I’m
sorry she was disappointed. She should’ve known I wouldn’t pull any punches
just because she was the one sitting at the other table.”
“I think
you know her better than that. All she expected was for you to act fairly.”
“And she
thinks I’ve done otherwise?”
“Actually, she thinks you have now, in fact, treated her exactly as you
do other defense attorneys. She thinks you’ve shown your true colors during
this case and that she was wrong to think you were any different than every
other prosecutor hell-bent on winning at any cost.”
“Do you
want to know what I think?” she asked.
Shrugging, he replied with a light smile, “Probably not, but I’m sure
you’re going to tell me anyway.”
Ignoring
his attempt at humor,
He moved
his chair closer to his desk and picked up a pencil. “I’m doing nothing of the
sort. And if that’s what you came here to say, then consider your mission
accomplished. I have work to do.”
“Are you
sure that isn’t what you’re doing? Because after listening to her side of the
story, that’s the impression I got even though she thinks otherwise.”
“This
doesn’t have anything to do with something I may or may not feel towards Calea.
This is about doing everything I can to keep a murderer from walking,” he
insisted.
“That’s a
load of b.s. and you know it,”
McCoy
looked into her dark eyes, contemplating. After several seconds, he said, “She
chose the case, Abbie. She knows better than anyone what that girl suffered in
the last few minutes of her life and still she chose to represent a man accused
of rape and murder.”
“You make
it sound like she took out an ad. She didn’t choose the case. She was roped
into it. Representing Fisher was a trade-off with Brenda Radcliffe to get Sara
Grayson’s case.”
He
studied her for a moment, considering her explanation. Then he shook his head.
“She could’ve said no. She worked on our side of the courtroom while representing
Peter Fairchild. It certainly shouldn’t have bothered her to turn down a case
like this.”
“So
you’re disappointed in her.”
Without
acknowledging her comment, he leaned toward her, his eyes intense. “You know
her. What do you think it’s going to do to her when she gets Fisher off and he
goes out and murders another young girl? She won’t be able to live with
herself. She’ll feel responsible and it will kill her.”
“Now
you’re trying to tell me that you’re pulling out all the stops and bending the
rules – what? For her sake?”
“And her
taking me to the Disciplinary Committee for doing nothing more than my job is
any different?”
She
leaned forward, contending pointedly, “She isn’t going to file a complaint. She
decided against it. You’re going to ruin a friendship with someone you care
about simply because she did something you’re taking as some sort of personal
betrayal.”
Before
McCoy could reply, Southerlyn appeared at his door. “I thought I heard a
familiar voice. What are you doing here, Abbie?”
“Oh, I’m
sorry,” Southerlyn apologized, turning to leave. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You
aren’t,”
***The noise-filled bar was considerably darker
than the sunlit brightness he had walked in from and it took Briscoe’s eyes
several seconds to adjust. Once he could make out basic shapes, he realized
that it was more crowded than he had expected for an early afternoon work day.
It took a few more seconds to spot a familiar figure seated at a table past the
bar.
As he
approached the table and sat down he said gruffly, “I’m here.”
With a
look that seemed genuinely grateful, Morgan replied, “Thanks for coming,
Lennie. I really appreciate it.” She chewed the inside of her lip for a second
before adding, “I need to talk to you about my client.”
“I don’t
really see the point, Counselor. You and I aren’t exactly on the same team,
here.”
“I think
we are,” she argued. “We may have different jobs to do but we both want to see
justice done.”
With a
smirk, Briscoe responded, “My idea of justice is to see Fisher fry for what he
did to that little girl. Your idea is to see him walk away a free man. That
doesn’t leave us much to talk about.”
Morgan
let out a sigh. “Look, I explained to my client from the start that in order to
help him I had to know the truth. And just between the two of us, he has
consistently maintained his innocence, even though he fully understands that
there’s no point in lying to me about his involvement. If he had even hinted to
me that he committed the crime, we wouldn’t be here now. I would’ve talked him
into taking a plea long ago.”
Briscoe
shook his head. “If you’re trying to convince me he’s innocent, you’re wasting
your time.”
“I’m not
trying to convince you.”
Giving
her a curious look, he asked, “Then what are we doing here?”
She
studied her hands for a second, then looked up at him and explained, “Before I
stand in front of that jury tomorrow and point out that there is more than a
little reasonable doubt as to Fisher’s guilt, I have to know without a doubt that he really is
innocent. I have to prove it to myself before I can convince anyone else.”
He
scrutinized her for a second before observing, “Something has made you question
whether he is.” When she looked down and avoided his eyes, he leaned forward and
demanded, “You have to tell me what it is!”
Shaking
her head, Morgan said, “I don’t know that it’s anything. All I can tell you is
that there’s something I need to look into.” After a second, she asked, “When
you arrested him, did he have any keys with him?”
With a
blank look, Briscoe answered, “Sure. Most people do.”
“Where
are they now?”
“They’re
in the property room at the precinct. Why?”
Biting
her lip again, Morgan replied hesitantly, “I know it’s asking a lot, but I need
you to get them for me.”
Briscoe
huffed out a breath. “Yeah, right.” After several seconds of silence, during
which he noted her determined expression, he asked incredulously, “Are you
crazy? I’m not gonna waltz in there and ask for Fisher’s personal affects, then
hand them over to his lawyer. What kind of an idiot do you take me for?”
“I’m not
asking as Fisher’s lawyer,” Morgan contended. “I’m asking for your help as one
friend to another.” Seeing that he was still unwilling to even entertain he
request, she asked, “Do you remember what you said to me when you came to my
office and asked if I would consider representing Sara Grayson?”
With a
shrug, Briscoe replied, “I said a lot of things. What does that have to do with
the price of tea in
“You told
me Sara needed help and that you felt I was the person who could help her. I
fought to get that case based on your word. And I’m glad I did – things worked
out well for everyone concerned. But the circumstances surrounding it weren’t
what persuaded me to take the case. It was you, saying that you trusted me,”
Morgan reminded him intently. “I’m asking you to trust me now.”
“Look,
Counselor, setting aside the obvious conflict of interest here, we’re talking
about putting my butt on the line. A prisoner’s personal affects that are
unrelated to a crime are off-limits to anyone except the prisoner himself once
he’s been released, or to someone with a judge’s okay. If I hand those keys
over to you and someone finds out, are you gonna pay my pension when I get
canned?”
“No one will find out,” Morgan insisted. “I
only need them for a couple of hours, at most. I’ll have them back to you no
later than the end of the day. The only ones who will know about it are you and
me.”
“And the
officer at the sign-out desk, who is going to make me put my name on a sheet
explaining why I need the keys.”
“Put down
that you need to search Fisher’s apartment again,” she suggested.
“So
you’re asking me to lie.”
“I’m
asking you to be creative.”
Briscoe shook
his head. “I’m not going to just blindly go along with some scheme of yours. If
you want my help, you’re going to have to tell me why you want the keys. I need
to know that it isn’t for something that’s going to get us both hauled up
before a judge.”
“I can’t
tell you,” Morgan flatly refused.
“Is it
because you’re going to use them to do something illegal?”
At
Morgan’s silence, he sat back and shook his head. “Without knowing what you
plan to do, I’m not willing to risk my career, Counselor.”
Leaning forward and placing her hand over his,
Morgan pleaded, “There’s no one else I can trust with this. If there was any
other way, I wouldn’t ask you. I’m begging you to help me here, Lennie.”
Briscoe
regarded her cautiously, trying not to allow himself to be persuaded by her
deep blue eyes or the warmth of her hand touching his. “I should have my head
examined for even listening to this,” he declared. As she continued to focus on
him expectantly, he asked, “Can I at least have some time to think it over?”
She shook
her head. “It has to be today, right now. Tomorrow morning I give my closing
statements. I have to do this before then.”
After
contemplating for another moment, he shrugged. “What the hell? It’s only my
future we’re talking about.”
Heaving a
sigh of relief, Morgan closed her eyes briefly. “Thank you. You don’t know how
much this means to me.” Opening her eyes, she added, “I’ll wait here for you
while you go get them.”
***The clock hanging on the wall behind the bar
was illuminated by a neon beer logo. Briscoe held his arm up and compared it to
the time his watch showed. It had been forty minutes since Morgan had called to
tell him she would meet him in twenty. Even though she had only been gone for
the promised couple of hours when she let him know she was ready to meet, he
still felt nervous. After spending the better part of that time wondering what
she could possibly be doing with the keys he had supplied her with, he was
anxious to return them to the property room and put the escapade behind him.
In the
reflection of the mirror behind the bar, he saw Morgan come in and glance
around.
He
swiveled the stool around to face her as she approached. But due to the dim
lighting, it wasn’t until she was standing in front of him that he noticed
something wasn’t quite right.
“You look
like you just saw a ghost,” he observed.
Without
looking directly at him, Morgan pulled the set of keys from the pocket of her
jacket and placed them on the bar in front of him.
“Here you
go. Thanks for your help,” she said in a shaky voice, and then turned to leave.
“Hey,
whoa!” he exclaimed, grabbing her by the hand. When he did so, he could clearly
feel it trembling. Scrutinizing her, he asked, “What’s wrong, Calea?”
She kept
her eyes focused somewhere around the third button on his shirt. “Nothing. I
just have to go.”
Briscoe
frowned and ducked his head slightly, trying to get a clear look at her face.
“If nothing’s wrong, then why are you shaking like a leaf?”
Morgan
swallowed hard and tried to tug her hand from his. “I have to go, Lennie,” she
insisted.
Without
releasing her, he pocketed the keys with his other hand and slid from the
stool. “Come on,” he coaxed. “You don’t look like you should be driving right
now.” He led her to an empty booth at the back of the bar. “Sit down,” he
commanded firmly but gently. He didn’t loosen his grip on her hand until she
had done so. Then, taking a seat opposite her, he asked, “What happened? Did
you find something in Fisher’s apartment that we missed?”
For the
first time since she had entered the bar, she looked directly at him. Briscoe
could clearly see fear in her eyes, but along with it, something else he
couldn’t quite identify. She lifted a shaky hand and brushed a few strands of
hair from her face. “You know I can’t tell you.”
He
studied her for a moment longer, then decided, “What you need is a drink. What
can I get for you?”
“Just
some water would be fine,” she answered.
“Water?
Are you sure you don’t want something a little stronger? You look like you
could use a good stiff belt.”
When
Morgan shook her head, Briscoe looked around for a waitress. Spotting none, he
got up and made his way to the bar. Returning seconds later with her request,
he placed the glass in front of her and sat down again.
He
watched her drink almost all of the water, holding the glass with both hands to
steady it. After she set it back on the table, he asked, “Better?”
She
nodded. “Thanks.”
“Look, if
you can’t tell me what happened, can you at least tell me if you did what you
intended?” At Morgan’s blank look, he asked, “Did you prove to yourself whether
or not Fisher is guilty?”
Morgan
looked down at the table and remained silent, turning her glass around in her
hands.
Briscoe reached
out and touched her arm. “You know, whatever happened, you’ll feel a lot better
if you share it with someone. And like you said, only the two of us have to
know.”
“What
I’ve done is bad enough. I can’t drag you any farther into this. You should go
and return the keys now.”
“I know
you found something,” he insisted. “Tell me what it is or just point me in the
right direction. No one has to know it came from you. I’ll figure out a way to
make it look like Ed and I found it on our own.” When Morgan began to shake her
head, he snapped, “If you know Fisher is guilty, you can’t let him walk!”
She
leaned her elbows on the table and held her head in her hands for a moment.
When she looked up, her eyes were filled with tears. “I don’t want to, but I don’t
have any other choice.”
Seeing
how upset she was, Briscoe decided that wanting to nail Fisher himself wasn’t
as important as making sure he was nailed, period. “If you can’t tell me, then
go to McCoy,” he urged. “He’ll know what to do.”
“No!”
Morgan reacted immediately. “He can’t know about this, Lennie! Do you
understand? Promise me you won’t say a word to him about anything!”
“He’d do
whatever he could to help you, Calea, you know that.”
She shook
her head and insisted adamantly, “What I did tonight could get me disbarred,
and if Jack finds out he’ll make sure that happens. He’s obsessed with winning
this case and he’s ticked at me for taking it in the first place. If he had the
opportunity to see me sanctioned, he’d do it in a heartbeat.”
“He isn’t
like that,” Briscoe argued. “He’d find a way to make it work without you
getting hurt.”
Morgan
slid to the edge of the seat. “He’s the last person in the world I would talk
to about this, and you don’t know anything to tell him. If you go to him with
what I asked you to do this afternoon, I’ll deny it.”
As she
began to stand up, Briscoe reached across the table and took her by the arm.
“All right. I won’t say anything.” As she regarded him warily, he asked, “What
are you going to do about Fisher?”
With a
shaky sigh, she slowly shook her head. “I don’t know yet. I’m not sure there’s
anything I can do.”
***Since he was already stuck in traffic, Briscoe
fiddled with his car radio, trying to find a station playing something other
than traffic reports and advertisements. He had crept up a whole two feet more
when his cell phone rang.
“Briscoe.”
“Lennie,
it’s Calea.”
“Hey,
I’ve been worried about you. You were still pretty shaky when you took off. Are
you okay?”
“I’m
fine. Did you get the keys back without any trouble?”
“Yeah,
piece of cake.”
“What
time is your shift tomorrow?”
“Ed and I
go in at
Morgan
paused a second before saying, “You should probably be there a little earlier
than that.”
“Why?”
When she didn’t immediately answer, he asked eagerly, “Did you figure out
something?”
After
another pause, Morgan replied, “If you’re there by
“My lips
are sealed,” he assured her.
“Thanks,
Lennie. And thanks for what you did today. I won’t forget it,” Morgan promised.