All the Pretty Girls - J. T. Ellison [48]
Page stood up, huffing. “What are you saying, Taylor? That you’ll report me for having doubts about why one of our most notorious criminals manages to walk out of court every damn time we arrest him, despite hard-core evidence?”
“Sit down. You know I’m not saying that. Jesus, Page, I think you’d know me better than that by now.”
Page was still puffed up, spoiling for a fight. “I’m coming to you because I trust you, Taylor. If there’s anyone in this town that I can believe in to see that this gets made right, it’s you. You’re not exactly the squeamish kind, you know?”
Taylor dropped Page’s gaze, rolling her neck to relieve the tension. Not squeamish. Page was right about that. Taylor had killed, and more than once. She’d fought her way out of bad situations before, with force when necessary, and had the scars to prove it. She wasn’t a violent woman by any means. No screaming fights, no broken glass, no beatings by a man. Yet the edge of mayhem lurked in the recesses of her mind, waiting. What female in any kind of law enforcement didn’t have some inkling of brutality bred in her? She fingered her neck and said softly, “Julia, sit down. Let’s talk.”
The fight went out of the ADA and she sat back down, suddenly looking like a vulnerable law student seeking quarter for a perceived transgression. She fiddled with a curl over her ear, and Taylor realized how young she really was. It was easy to forget how young they both were. Seeing death and destruction every day, living in the world of crime, made them older than their years.
“I think we’d do right to look at the jury and witness angles, rather than at Judge Hamilton. Terrence has a much better shot at intimidating the people of the community who come into contact with him or his thugs than he does a criminal-court judge.” Page started to say something, but Taylor held up a hand. “Now, I didn’t say I wouldn’t look into Hamilton. I just think it’s much more likely that Terrence is screwing with the people he has ready access to, that’s all.”
Mollified, Page nodded.
Taylor continued. “Okay then, here’s what I’ll do. You trust Pete Fitzgerald, right? My sergeant?”
“Of course I do. Fitz helped make this case against Terrence. From what I hear, he has some kind of relationship going with Terrence. A mutual-distrust society. I have no worries about him.”
“Then I’ll assign Fitz to you. I’ll make sure he’s up to speed on the situation, and send him over this afternoon. You guys come up with a plan for investigating this. And that’s all, Page. I don’t want to hear anything more from you about Hamilton. I’ll handle that side by myself. We can’t have you getting fired, now, can we?”
Taylor stood, indicating the conversation was over. Page stood as well, looked up at Taylor and raised an eyebrow. “I’m out on a limb here, Taylor. Don’t let me drop.” She reached for the doorknob and flung open the door. A flash of fresh air infiltrated the office. As Taylor watched the ADA’s retreating back, she reveled in the air, trying to use it to wash herself clean. A baby and a corrupt judicial system. What more could she ask for?
There was only one thing for her to do. She placed a call to Sam, asking her to meet for dinner. Taylor needed a friend right now.
Taylor stepped from the CJC offices absently, lost in her own problems. If she’d just taken a moment, taken one quick glance out the door before she stepped into the dusky night, her life might have been a little easier. Instead, she was hit with a vicious onslaught.
“Lieutenant Jackson,” a shrill voice cried out. Taylor’s head snapped up. A news crew from the local CBS affiliate had taken up residence in the CJC parking lot, looking to ambush her as she left the building. They’d succeeded.
“Lieutenant, we’d like a comment from you on the Rainman case. Is it true that your suspect raped and beat Detective Betsy Garrison of the Sex Crimes Unit?”
Taylor was caught completely off guard. She paused,