I’d only had to deal with Reed on a few cases during my tenure at the SF Prosecutor’s office, and my experiences had all been less than stellar. Henry Reed used any and all underhanded tactics that he could to win his cases, and he didn’t care if his defendant was guilty or innocent. As long as he won and got to brag to the press, he was a happy man.
A few years back, he got a wealthy businessman off of first-degree murder charges for murdering his wife and young child. Reed had argued that there was no physical evidence tying the man to the murder despite the mountains of circumstantial evidence and motive. For crying out loud, the man had married his pregnant mistress within three weeks after the date of the murder. The only saving grace from that had been that the upper echelons of San Francisco society had black-listed that man, and he’d moved out of the country soon after. That didn’t change the fact that he was still a murderer, and that Henry Reed had been instrumental in him walking free.
I wanted to chime in with some kind of snarky comment about how poisoning and murdering thirty-two peopleweregenerally grounds for imprisonment, but this wasn’t my show, it was Darian’s.
Lucky for me, this kid was shaping up to be a pretty good lawyer, as seen by his next words: “I don’t know Mr. Reed, I think that this is exactly where Mr. Jordan belongs, and I am looking forward to him staying here for many more years on a more permanent basis.”
The alpha in front of me gave a great hacking laugh before looking at Marcus, as if he was running the show. “Whitlock, what are you feeding this pup? His balls are way too big for his britches.”
Marcus didn’t fall for Reed’s trap to undermine Darian, and instead took a seat and raised an eyebrow at the other lawyer.
Darian, emboldened by Marcus’s silence, continued. “Well, I think that my balls and I are going to be a real pain in your ass very soon, Reed.”
At Darian’s words, I began to pull folders out of my briefcase. If Henry Reed wanted to play, we would play. Let the game begin.
––––––––
Two and half hourslater Darian had proven himself to be a more than competent lawyer, in fact, he had surprised the hell out of Marcus and I with his outright refusal to accept Reed or Jordan’s bullshit. Together, we had thrown any and all possible deals Jordan’s way, only to have them be slapped down by Reed. It had become obvious very quickly that Hezekiah Jordan was not interested in any kind of a deal. He wanted this to go to trial because he thought that he could win.
Somehow, he knew that all of the witnesses that had testified eight years ago, except for Tibby, were dead. I don’t know how he knew it since he never received visitors, and hardly ever got any letters in the post, but he knew. The FBI hadn’t even revealed the names of the victims to the public yet. I would need to tell Cobb and Theo about this when I got home.
“Well.” Darian said, snapping his leather padfolio shut and standing, “it seems like we exhausted all of the deals that the DA is willing to offer, and we are at an impasse. It looks like I will see you both at trial in a few weeks.”
He didn’t offer either of the men his hand. Over the past few hours, the friendly labrador retriever of a lawyer had transformed into what I can best describe as an angry chihuahua. He still looked young and untried, but anger at Reed’s constant remarks about his greenness and the waste of time that this visit was, had quickly worn on the prosecutor.
“Hmph, good luck,rookie,” Reed muttered under his breath as we stood and headed for the door. King, who had been standing silently by the door for the entirety of the meeting, held it open for us.
“Oh, and Ms. Simmons?” Jordan called from behind me, like he had forgotten something. When I turned to look at him, he was sitting with his clasped in front of him like he was about to start praying. “Can you let my wife know that she is in my thoughts?”
A sick feeling began to spread through my stomach, and I almost didn’t want to ask my next question, but I needed to know. “And who might your wife be?”
My fears were confirmed when a smile that I could only describe as pure evil curled over the older man’s face. “Why my wife, Tabitha, of course.”
CHAPTER 24
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