For the Defense
Autor
Maggie Wells
Lecturas
16,0K
CapĂtulos
16
She'd bring down a criminal with or without his lawyer's help. Deputy Lori Cabrera is shocked to discover that a powerful local businessman is a front for a drug-trafficking ring tucked away in her own rural Georgia community. It figures his defense attorney is none other than the distractingly handsome Simon Wingate. Can Lori convince Simon his client is guilty as sin? If she can, the big-city attorney could be putting more than his heart on the line to see that justice is served.
Chapter One
âInterview with Deputy Lourdes Cabrera, Masters County Sheriffâs Department. Deputy Cabrera, would you please tell us what you witnessed in the early-morning hours of September 28?â
Lori had to refrain from rolling her eyes while Danielle Anderson spoke into her cell like it was a microphone. She understood the need for an official statement, but the assistant district attorney sounded like she was reading from a television script. They may not have been besties, but they worked in separate wings of the same building. Heck, theyâd been at the same Chic Chef housewares party the previous weekend. But for the sake of the teenage girl sheâd picked up walking Highway 19 alone at two in the morning, Lori tamped down the urge to snark and spoke directly into the microphone on the proffered device.
âI was returning from a call when I saw a young girlâuh, a female who appeared to be underageâwalking along the side of the road.â
âYouâd had a call so late?â Danielle interrupted.
This time, Lori did smirk, and she shot a look at the sheriff seated at his desk at the back of the room. Sheriff Ben Kinsella wore a bemused half smile. They complained all the time about how civilians didnât actually understand their jobs, and their own assistant district attorney had proved them right. Calls in the wee hours were not at all out of the ordinary in their line of work, even in small rural communities.
âYes. Thereâd been a report of a domestic disturbance at a home on Highway 19 west of the county line. I took the call through direct dispatch. I was already out on patrol and requested backup from Prescott County since many of the lots in the area straddle the county line. We often provide backup for one another in those situations,â she explained.
âYou were heading back toward Pine Bluff when you noticed the young woman walking alone so late?â
âYes.â Lori shifted closer to the edge of the chair.
âCan you tell me what made you stop?â
Lori blinked. Sometimes she forgot not everyone would have pulled over for a stranger walking along the road at such a dangerous hour. Cop or not. âI stopped because itâs dangerous for people to walk along unlit county roads in the dark of night,â she replied evenly.
âThe person you picked up, was she known to you?â
Lori had to force herself to remember they were having this pedantic discussion for a reason. Leaning closer to the phone, she looked up at the ADA and spoke directly into the phone. âNo, maâam. I had never met her.â She moved back, carefully maintaining eye contact with the lawyer. âI pulled to the side of the road and approached her from behind, identifying myself as a sheriffâs deputy.â
âDid she try to run?â
The question made Lori frown. âNo.â She paused, trying to figure out the attorneyâs angle. âWell, I guess technically she did, but she ran toward me,â she said, enunciating each word for the sake of eventual transcription.
âShe ran toward you and said what?â Danielle prompted.
âShe said, âThank God. Can you help me? I want to go home.ââ A shiver raced down Loriâs spine when she recalled the edgy desperation in the girlâs voice.
âWhat happened then?â
âI took her name and address. Bella Nunes. She gave me a street address in Jennings, Florida. When I found her, she was dressed in a pair of bathing suit bottoms, a tank top and a pair of cheap rubber flip-flops. No purse, no ID.â
She stopped there, thinking back over the information sheâd been able to glean from the trembling girl between sobs.
âShe told me she was fifteen. She said sheâd been staying with a friend who moved up here, but that she wanted to go home. When I pressed her about the friendâs identity, she clammed up.â
âMs. Nunes offered no other information? Where this friend lived? A name?â
Lori shook her head. âNo. She refused to tell me where she was coming from or who sheâd been with.â
âDid you have some suspicions based on where sheâd been walking and knowledge of the residents in the area?â Danielle probed.
Lori glanced over at her boss, needing the reassurance she hadnât gone off half-cocked when drawing her conclusions. The sheriff inclined his head, urging her to continue.
âThere are only three residences within a two-mile radius of where I found Ms. Nunes. I didnât see her on my way out there, and when I found her, she wasnât walking at a brisk pace. One of the straps on her sandals had broken. The edges of the road are crumbling. She told me she was scared to walk in the grass because of snakes.â
âSnakes?â
âSaid sheâd seen enough snakes to last a lifetime,â Lori answered flatly.
âAnd she wouldnât say where she was coming from?â Danielle repeated.
âNo.â Lori leaned forward, her gaze locked on the other woman as she spoke. âThere are only three residences in the radius. One was the residence I was called to for the domestic disturbance. One is owned by a widow named Hazel Johnson and is located closer to town. When we passed, I checked, and all of the lights at Mrs. Johnsonâs place were out.â
âAnd the property belonging to Samuel Coulter was the only one left?â Danielle asked.
âYes.â
âWhat type of business does Mr. Coulter run on his property?â
Lori was about to answer when the door to the sheriffâs department swung open and the district attorney, Harrison Hayes, strode in. âHold up,â he said, lifting a hand to back up his order.
Danielle jabbed at the screen to stop the recording. The familiar squeak and roll of Benâs desk chair told her the sheriff had come to his feet. The grim resignation on the DAâs face made a knot of ice form in her stomach. Obviously, the DAâs meeting with Samuel Coulter and his attorney hadnât gone as expected.
Rising to her feet, Lori peered through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls into the reception area separating the countyâs legal offices from the law enforcement branch. She spotted them by the empty mosaic-tiled fountain. Two men, one nearly as handsome as the other, but both equally repugnant to her.
Coulter and his attorney, Simon Wingate, stood with their heads bent close to one another. Loriâs lip curled. Thereâd been few sightings of the eccentric millionaire since heâd bought the massive acreage out on Highway 19. Sheâd heard rumors about the man being good-looking, but... Lori narrowed her eyes. He wasnât just handsome; he was gorgeous.
Disgusted with the thought, she shifted her attention to the manâs clothes. What did a man suspected of endangering young women wear to be questioned by the local prosecutors? Loose linen pants and a finely woven white shirt. And flip-flops. Not the cheap dollar-store shower shoes Bellaâd been wearing. No, his had wide straps fashioned from supple leather. He looked like a guy on vacation.
The sandals were a sharp contrast to the impeccably shined wing tips the man standing next to him wore.
Simon Wingate looked every inch the prep-school-educated politicianâs son.
Lori clenched her back teeth and focused on the man in the expertly tailored suit. He was the light to his clientâs dark. The perfect foil. All warm, gold-tipped curls, crinkly blue eyes and sun-kissed skin. Lori was woman enough to admit her mouth sometimes watered when she saw Simon Wingate. Not today, though.
Masters Countyâs newest resident had lawyered up and come to head them off at the pass. No doubt Coulter waved a wad of cash, and city slicker Simon had come a-runninâ. Judging by Coulterâs unperturbed expression and the district attorneyâs abrupt halt to Loriâs statement, whatever they said had worked. He was about to slither out the doors of Masters County Municipal Center a free man.
âSnakes,â Lori said, her gaze following the two men exiting the building. The outer door closed behind them, and she refocused her indignation on the DA. âThe man buys, sells and breeds exotic snakes.â
âWhich is not illegal,â Hayes replied calmly.
âBella Nunes said he threatened her with his damn snakes,â Lori blurted, losing her cool at last.
Hayes held up a placating hand. âI am aware of Ms. Nunesâs accusations. I am also aware she is not fifteen. She is actually eighteen years old, a three-time runaway prior to her eighteenth birthday, and has a history of embellishing stories when she gets caught in a difficult spot. Or so her parents say.â
Sheriff Kinsella approached. âYouâre not pressing charges?â
Hayes shrugged. âWould if I thought I could get something to stick. All I have is a complaint filed by a young woman who claimed to be fifteen, when in fact she is eighteen. She is an adult who admits she came here of her own free will, whether she regrets that decision now or not. She said herself no one was around when Coulter allegedlyââ
Offended on Bellaâs behalf, Lori bristled. âHe locked her in a cage with a boa constrictor!â
âSo she says,â the district attorney retorted, his expression grave. âHe says he didnât and has offered to provide witnesses to refute Ms. Nunesâs claims. She has no witnesses to say she was mistreated. Our hands are tied.â
The manâs mouth flattened into a grim line, and Lori could see he didnât care for the outcome of his interview with Coulter any more than she did. Exhaling with a whoosh, she dropped back into her chair and made a concerted effort not to appear sulky.
âRight. I get you,â she conceded.
The prosecutor inclined his head, the corners of his mouth pulled tight. âMr. Coulter has generously offered to pay for her bus ticket back to Florida.â
âWhat a guy.â Danielle pocketed her phone and headed for the door.
The rhetorical statement caused the sheriff to snort. Harrison Hayesâs expression, on the other hand, remained somber while he watched his associate approach.
At last, the DA cracked. A smirk twisting his lips, he held the lobby door open for Danielle. After making sure the door was closed again, he pivoted, a hand raised in helpless surrender. âFor what itâs worth, I donât disagree with your instincts, Deputy. There is something off about the guy, and Iâm not only talking about the snake eyes.â
âSnake eyes?â Ben asked.
âSo he does have creepy eyes?â Lori asked, swiping Bella Nunesâs choice of descriptors.
Hayes gestured to his own left eye. âElongated pupil,â he explained. âIâm man enough to admit itâs disconcerting, given the guyâs obsession with reptiles.â
Lori nodded, her lips quirking at Hayesâs barely concealed shudder. âYou think heâs some sort of cult leader?â
âHe may be, but I can tell you this,â the DA said, opening the office door again. âI wouldnât follow the guy across the street.â
When they were gone, Lori swiveled her chair to face her boss. âWell, damn.â
Ben nodded and moved back to his own desk. âSheâs spent the morning at Reverend Mitchellâs house. Iâll go by and let them know whatâs happening. Iâm sure I can work something out with him on the bus ticket. Maybe thereâs some kind of charity fund. If not, Iâll talk to Marlee. I donât want Ms. Nunes to feel beholden to Coulter in any way.â
Lori hid her smile. When Benâs girlfriend, Marlee Masters, had come home to Pine Bluff, most of the townspeople had been poised to write her off as nothing more than the small-town princess sheâd been once upon a timeâpretty and petted and cooed over by everyone. Marlee had changed since the loss of her only brother. Her father had suffered a debilitating stroke a few months prior, and Marlee had not only taken over the reins of the family business, but sheâd also stepped straight into the role of civic leader.
Marlee was a Masters of Masters County, Georgia. If she wanted there to be a charity doling out bus tickets home to wayward young women with questionable taste in men, by God, thereâd be one set up by morning.
âThank you.â Lori sighed and closed the spiral notebook she had open on the desk. Sheâd had her notes all ready in case she needed to refer to them while making her statement, but she might as well ball them up and toss them in the trash.
âWeâll maintain a closer watch on things happening out along Highway 19,â Ben said, keeping the order casual and open. âTourists have started coming to visit Cottonmouth Coulterâs Reptile Rendezvous. From what I hear, itâs all the kids in town can talk about. We should be on guard for an uptick in activity.â
Lori bit her lip. She knew she was too personally invested in Bella Nunesâs drama. She used to be better at compartmentalizing stuff like this, but lately... Lately Lori was having a harder time keeping a tight lid on her emotions. She sensed Ben was aware of her struggle, was throwing her a bone. Lori appreciated his concern but at the same time wished she could just suck it up.
Thankfully, Ben believed in her hunch about Coulter. They were experienced, intuitive cops who put stock in niggling suspicion. Suspicion often turned into hard evidence. They were both the sorts who werenât afraid to pick and pull at the flimsiest of threads to see what unraveled and what they could learn from the results.
âIâll talk to Mike about it when he comes on shift. Give him some pointers on what to look out for.â She dropped her notes on the Nunes incident into the shredder near the desk she shared with Deputy Mike Schaeffer.
Mikeâs seniority irked her. Heâd only been at the sheriffâs department two weeks longer than her and had less experience. Sheâd finished her initial entry training at Fort Leonard Wood and stayed on for military police school. She finished her stint in the corrections brigade at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. Mike, a homegrown boy whoâd graduated a year behind her, had partied at the University of Georgia for a couple of semesters. After he failed to make the grade there, he landed at Georgia Piedmont Techâs law enforcement academy, and he was hired two weeks after his twenty-first birthday.
Loyal and almost too eager to please, Mike was a nice guy. Which made it even harder for her to resent him. Most of the time. Though it irked her that she seemed destined to train men who outranked her.
âHow about a milkshake?â Ben asked, jolting her from her thoughts. âI sure could use something cold and sweet to wash this sour taste out of my mouth.â
Lori saw him wriggling his wallet from his back pocket. âYou buying?â
âIâll buy if you fly,â he offered.
âDone.â She pushed back from the desk, thankful to have an excuse to go for a walk. The Daisy Drive-In was only a few blocks away. Maybe a short walk and a tall shake were exactly what she needed.
Outside the stagnant office, the day was warm, though the calendar claimed it was still September. In South Georgia, autumn didnât come around until late October. Tipping her chin up, she tugged at the front of her uniform shirt in hopes of wafting cool air over her superheated skin. She took two deep breaths and reminded herself it was okay to feel shaken, as long as she didnât let setbacks knock her down. Or so a therapist had once told her.
Unclenching her fists, she set off for the drive-in, but no matter how fast she walked, she couldnât outpace her frustration. She couldnât believe they would let Coulter go without a reprimand. It galled her to think of the slime bag luring young women to his ârefuge,â tormenting them into thinking he was doing them a favor by letting them stay there.
As if sheâd summoned the devil by thinking of him, an engine roared and a sports car shot past her. She caught sight of Coulterâs tanned skin and dark, wind-tousled hair. Of course he drives a Viper, she thought with a sneer. What a clichĂ©. Reflective sunglasses glinted in the sunlight, and her stomach flipped when he lifted a hand in a mocking wave and punched the gas.
He sped out of town at about thirty over the posted speed limit.
She pressed the button on the mic she wore clipped to her shoulder and tipped her head to the side, watching the car shrink into a pinprick in the distance. âMike? Whatâs your twenty?â
There was a crackle of static. Then the deputy on patrol answered. âIâm on Sawtooth Lake Road near the county line. Over.â
Scowling, she peered at the strip of highway leading from the center of Pine Bluff toward the eastern half of Masters County. Mike was somewhere in the northwest quadrant. Thereâd be no catching Coulter today.
âDidja need me?â Mike asked, breaking into her thoughts.
She shook her head and keyed the mic. âNope. False alarm. Carry on.â
âTen-four,â Mike responded. âSee you back at base.â
Theyâd catch up to Coulter one day. Theyâd figure out exactly what he had going on and theyâd stop it. They had to. Something bad was happening out there. She felt it in her bones.
Lori straightened her shoulders and refocused on the sight of the Daisy Drive-In in the distance. Today might not have been the day, but it was coming. Soon. She only hoped it would be soon enough to help the next young woman they found wandering the side of a rural highway in the dead of night.
