Not this time.
Maybe I was gloating a little that a monster had been taken off the streets and put behind bars for the rest of his life.
The Undertaker.
What a shame he hadn’t gotten the death penalty.
A man who’d allegedly killed at least two dozen people in cold blood. More if you considered the men he’d gunned downin street wars while protecting the Delgado Cartel. A career criminal with a lust for blood.
He was also the coldest fuck I’d ever seen walk into my courtroom.
The bastard had ice in his veins.
All throughout the trial, which had been a slam dunk with the evidence presented, he’d acted nonchalant, keeping a smirk on his face. That hadn’t bothered anyone. The stark emptiness of his eyes had. He’d intimidated the jury even if he hadn’t said a single word to them. He hadn’t even taken the stand in his own defense. There’d been no need.
I laughed as I took off my robe, hanging it in the closet in my office. Thank God, I was done for the day. Even two weeks after the man had been escorted from my courtroom for the last time, I’d thought about him more than once a day.
Perhaps his last words were the reason.
“You will be hunted.”
That was it. While he’d whispered a few words to his attorney throughout the process, not a word had been said to anyone else but those four.
He’d directed them toward me, but I had a feeling he’d tossed out a widespread threat. The police had suspected a heavy band of violence after the verdict to come from the Delgado Cartel. There’d been almost none.
Maybe the asshole had been considered expendable to them. While Luis Delgado, the brutal leader of the savage group demanded loyalty, forcing those joining the cartel to prove theirundying adoration, he certainly wasn’t inclined to return the gesture.
He and I had tangled more than once.
Time to get the fuck out of the courthouse and enjoy a night with music, whiskey, and a good book.
My mind drifted briefly to another case from years before and I all but froze.
“We, the jury have found the defendant not guilty of the crimes as presented.”
Not guilty.
I could still hear the verdict being read and envision the shock tearing through the courtroom. Even now, my hands were clammy as the memory hit me hard, brutally enough that for a few seconds I was lost in the haze of rage and disbelief. It had been months, maybe a full year since I’d allowed the nightmarish memory to crowd my brain. Closing my eyes, I waited until the horrible images were vanquished, including the laughter booming in the courtroom coming from the defendant just seconds after the verdict had been read.
Then I’d seen the look of horror on her face, a woman who’d trusted me to avenge her family’s deaths. Her eyes had told me what her lips had yet to say.
I’d failed her.
I’d left the courthouse that day in a fog, drowning my sorrows in a full bottle of whiskey, barely coming up for air two days later. The incident was one I’d never forget and the one that had altered my personality.
Or perhaps my way of handling cases.
At least today, I felt some sense of vindication. I’d take it.
Until the nightmares returned.
Just before I headed out, my phone rang. My private cellphone and I could count on fewer than ten fingers who had the number.
Seeing an unknown number I instantly bristled. The line was blocked as was every other aspect of my private life including my address, information about my cars, and my family. They’d all been scrubbed from the system. After all, the world was a dangerous place.
“Yes?” I answered. There also shouldn’t be any way for spammers or politicians to get this number either.
“Judge Armstrong?”
