And suddenly, the surveillance dead ends made sense. The stonewalling my PI kept hitting. If Judge Kearns had been cleaning up his son’s messes for a decade, why would he stop now? What else had been buried? What evidence had conveniently disappeared?
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
“Whatever lies that woman has been feeding you?—”
“If your son was as innocent as you claim, then you have nothing to worry about when this goes to trial.”
The words hung in the air between us. Subtext screaming:But he wasn’t innocent, was he?And we both know it.
“You will drop Faith Morrison as a client.” Not a request. A command. The kind he was used to having obeyed without question.
“Will I?” I pushed off from the desk, squaring my shoulders. “And why would I do that?”
“Because I’m telling you to.”
A laugh escaped me. “With all due respect, Your Honor, you don’t sign my paychecks.”
“She killed my son.” His voice dropped to a growl. “In cold blood. And anyone who helps his killer walk free becomes my enemy.”
Enemy. There it was. The threat wrapped in a warning, tied with a bow of judicial authority.
This was what Faith had been up against. Not just a stalker, but a stalker with a judge for a father. A family who could make evidence disappear, intimidate witnesses, destroy her credibility before she ever set foot in court.
“Is that a threat, Judge Kearns?”
“It’s friendly advice.” His smile was all teeth, no warmth. “Drop the case. Do the right thing.”
The right thing. Like he’d know the right thing if it bit him on his privileged ass. The right thing would have been getting his son help years ago, before Faith became his obsession.
“Even if I dropped her case, someone else would defend her,” I pointed out. “It’s the law.”
“Oh, she’ll have representation.” Something shifted in his expression. Satisfaction. “Her constitutional rights will be observed.”
The realization slammed through me like a fist to the gut. “You already have someone lined up. Someone who’ll tank her defense.”
He didn’t deny it. Didn’t even try.
Wolfe. I’d bet everything Wolfe’s fingerprints were all over this visit. Maybe Judge Kearns was the one who’d assigned Wolfe as the prosecutor in the first place. Given him his marching orders to intimidate me into dropping the case. And when that hadn’t worked, this was the next move on the chessboard.
“How’s your buddy Knox Blackwood doing these days?”Kearns examined his manicured nails as casually as if he were discussing the weather.
The world stopped. What the fuck did he just say?
“I heard he’s up for parole again.” He continued like he hadn’t just detonated a bomb. “Though it would be unfortunate if certain … concerns … were raised about his rehabilitation. Concerns that could squash this or any future chance he has. How old is his daughter now? The one he hasn’t seen in years?”
Red. Everything went red. My hands clenched so tight, my knuckles cracked. Knox had nothing to do with this. My close friend, rotting in prison for a crime that should’ve been manslaughter, and this bastard was dangling his freedom like bait. Reminding me of the daughter Knox had fathered when he was a teenager. The one he’d revolved his entire college existence around. How he’d picked a finance major so he could provide more for his family. And how much I knew Knox dreamed of being reunited with his daughter. How dare this guy use that as a weapon.
“Careful, Your Honor.” My voice came out deadly quiet. “That sounded dangerously close to judicial misconduct.”
“I’m simply making conversation about a mutual acquaintance.” He straightened his tie, a smile playing at his lips. “Of course, if you were to reconsider your current caseload, I’m sure Knox’s parole hearing would proceed without any … complications.”
He was really doing this. A sitting judge, threatening to interfere with parole proceedings. Threatening my friend’s freedom.
This was the family Faith had been fighting. This was the power that had protected a predator for years. And now, I was seeing it firsthand—the corruption, the manipulation, the absolute certainty that they believed themselves to be above the law.
“Get out of my office.”
“Think about what I’ve said, Mr. Kincaid.” He strolled toward the door, pausing at the threshold. “You have until end ofbusiness today to make the right decision. After that …” He shrugged, letting his threat linger.
