Twisted Justice, page 19
“Where did you see him?”
“In the library. He was kinda playing the big man, like, look at me, I been to college, I got a law degree. Told people he could get them out of jail if they paid his gigantic fee.”
“Did you approach him about representing you?”
“Nah. I been convicted. I don’t think there’s much he could do for me. He was under the impression that I was some kind of investigator, and he wanted someone looked into. I had to tell him he was mistaken. I was a police officer once, but never a detective, and all that was a long time ago.”
“Did that end the conversation?”
“No. You know how it is when two guys get to talking. Especially when they can’t leave and there’s nothing much to do. No one else was in the library so we were able to have a private conversation. Didn’t take too long before he started in about George Belasco. We started grousing about how much we hated the guy. I mean, I didn’t like Belasco much, but Pike absolutely hated him.”
Maria rose. Dan knew she didn’t really have an objection, because there was no valid objection. She wanted to interrupt the flow, to break up what was becoming an absorbing narrative. This story might be a complete pack of lies, but Warner was a good storyteller. He knew how to make it seem real.
And as Maria herself had said—stories trump facts.
“Objection,” she said.
“On what grounds?” the judge asked.
“Credibility. He’s a jailhouse snitch.”
The judge shook her head. “You may explore that on cross-examination, if you wish. Overruled.”
“Then on grounds of hearsay. I realize the hearsay rule doesn’t normally apply to statements by the defendant. But in this case, there’s no witness, no corroboration, and no reason for the defendant to admit things that could be used against him. There are no factors suggesting credibility. It’s just gossip.”
“Overruled. Ms. Garfield, please proceed.”
That was fine. He knew Maria expected no better. At least she was able to remind the jury that this was a ratfink claiming someone said stuff completely contrary to their own interests.
“Did Mr. Pike explain why he hated George Belasco so much?”
“He said they had opposed one another in the courtroom many times, and Belasco played some dirty tricks.”
Indeed. If Belasco had so many dirty tricks, why did Dan always beat him?
“Did he give examples?”
“No. But he said Belasco was connected to some powerful people. And they all wanted him out of the way. He also said Belasco was out to get his....” He squirmed. “A female friend of his.”
That caused a stir in the jury box.
“Who was that female friend? The mayor?”
“No. Jazlyn Prentice. He called her Jazzy Jazlyn. With a wink, you know?”
Dan sat up straight. How did Jazlyn get in the middle of this? This sounded like the same nonsense Evelyn Belasco was peddling. What kind of prosecutor went after the woman who was ostensibly her boss? Was this some kind of internecine coup? Get rid of the boss so Garfield can be the new DA?
“Did he indicate that Jazlyn Prentice, the interim district attorney since this murder occurred, also hated George Belasco?”
“Not exactly. But she wanted to be the next district attorney.”
“And Mr. Pike wanted to help his...female friend.”
“And he did.” Warner whistled. “In a big way.”
“Did he say what actions he took?”
“Oh yeah. He gave me all the details, top to bottom. Said he lured Belasco to this club he liked. Beachcombers, I think it was called. Then he got Belasco outside and shot him. He talked about that for a long time. His eyes got wide and kinda spooky. Weird. Said he shot the man six times. Once for each time Belasco screwed him over.”
Maria shot up. “Objection. Your honor, this is preposterous. No one would ever say that. Especially not to this...person.”
“Save it for cross-examination,” the judge said. She looked at Maria sternly. “And do not interrupt again unless you have a legitimate objection.”
Gritting her teeth, Maria returned to her chair.
“Please continue,” Garfield said.
Warner nodded. He took a moment to get back into character. “It was scary, honestly. To see someone get that way, to see the look in his eyes when he talked about killing. I think he must be one of those...what do you call it? Sociopaths. People who don’t care about anyone else. Think they can get away with anything. Think they’re entitled to do whatever they want cause they’re smarter than everyone else.”
“That must’ve been disturbing.”
“More than that. Chilling. Earlier, I saw this guy walking down the hallway, shooting the bull with guys, laughing and kidding around. And then, all of a sudden, he’s completely changed, talking about killing a guy in cold blood. Getting off on it.”
Garfield gave the jurors a knowing look.
“Pike knew the body would be found,” Warner continued. “He wanted it to attract attention. So he made it dramatic. He was sending a message. Don’t mess with Daniel Pike. That was for the other people he said worked with Belasco, the rich and powerful ones. He was telling them, screw with me and you’ll end up the same way.”
“You mentioned that he made it...dramatic.”
“Right. After he plugged the guy, he dragged the body to a back alley and pinned it up against a fence.”
“And how did he manage that?”
“Oh, he came prepared. He had it all thought out in advance. He used this kitesurfing stuff.”
Dan felt a clutching at the base of his spine. Kitesurfing stuff?
Now he understood why Garfield had mentioned his fondness for kitesurfing in her opening.
“Can you explain to the jury what you mean by that?”
“I can try. I ain’t never been kitesurfing. Not in my income bracket. But there’s this thing you hold onto. Like a handlebar. It’s attached to the kite. You hold on and lean back and let it pull you forward.”
“Something like this?” Garfield raised the device that had been used to pinion Belasco’s body to the fence. It looked like the head of a trident, the two outer prongs being longest. And sharpest.
“Yeah. That’s how he described it. Those ends aren’t normally so pointy. He sharpened them so they would go through the body and stick in the fence. But it’s strong. It will hold a body up for a long time.”
“Actually,” Dan muttered under his breath. “I prefer a fiberglass handlebar...”
“I know,” Maria whispered. “Hush.”
Garfield continued, this time speaking to the judge. “Your honor, I have here an invoice from the Urban Adventure Gear Company. It shows that Daniel Pike purchased a new kitesurfing handlebar a few days before the murder occurred.”
The judge nodded. “And I assume you’re claiming this was used on the victim.”
“Actually, no, you honor. This is for a fiberglass handle.”
“Because that’s what I use,” Dan muttered. Maria jabbed him in the side.
“Our theory,” Garfield continued, “is that the defendant bought a replacement. He had made his previous gear unfit for use by dismantling it and sharpening the outer points.”
Dan glanced at the faces in the jury...and did not like what he saw. For many of them, the story was making sense—especially since Warner told it so well. Warner had developed his gift for storytelling into a perpetual Get Out of Jail Free card.
“Did Mr. Pike provide any more details about how he committed this gruesome crucifixion?”
“Oh, he didn’t do it himself. C’mon, look at him. He’s a rich lawyer. He probably hasn’t done any real work in his entire life. He shot Belasco, but he didn’t drag the body around or prop it up. He planned it. Provided the equipment. Then he hired someone else to do it.”
“Hired someone? Who?”
“Carl or Card or something like that. Look, he’s been putting crooks back on the street for years. He knows all kinds of scum, and some of them probably owe him a favor. I’ll bet it wasn’t too hard to find someone to do the dirty deed. Especially given the kind of money he has.”
Dan had to be impressed, in a hideous sort of way. This was the kind of unnecessary detail that made Warner’s story even more believable.
“Was there anything else Mr. Pike said about the murder?’
“Yes. The part I can never forget.” Warner turned slightly so the jurors could see his eyes. “He talked about the buzz he got from drilling Belasco. He said after the first shot, Belasco begged him to stop. Pleaded with him. Even started to cry. But Pike didn’t stop. In fact, he drew it out. The next shot went to Belasco’s leg. That was sure to hurt—but wouldn’t kill him. He wanted Belasco to suffer. For a long time.”
The jury stared at him, stunned. The entire courtroom was deathly quiet.
Warner shook his head. “The look in that guy’s eyes when he told me about it. I’ll never forget that. I'll never forget his words. Pike said, ‘That loser kept begging, crying like a baby. But he didn’t die. I wouldn’t let him die. I made him suffer.’ And then he smiled. Can you believe it? Pike smiled.”
Warner leaned toward the jurors. “That’s why I had to testify today. This man is evil. He needs to be put down like the dog that he is.”
Venus Ascendant
Chapter 35
Elena knew she needed to escape. Somehow. Soon.
Ever since she’d been caught trying to escape with Izzy, they’d kept her under close guard, waiting. For what? They wouldn’t tell her. The Captain had made a remark earlier about sharks...
She was watched at all times, night and day. She had been tied and gagged, the cloth choking her and removed only once a day so she could drink and eat the swill they called food. She had been chained to an iron ring on the wall. Her legs were sore. She felt dizzy. She was filthy, even worse than before. She was tormented by bad dreams.
They killed Izzy. Just as they promised. And they made her watch. She had to stand there, crying, screaming, begging, as they cut the throat of the young girl she loved...
Afterward, all she could think about was how much she wanted to die.
Why hadn’t they killed her, too? It would be the simplest thing to do. She had proven she posed a risk, one that far exceeded any profit they might be able to earn from her.
Sharks...
They had all used her, abused her, so much that it barely registered any more. So much that she almost forgot that once she had a decent life, a clean life, parents who loved her, a home, a safe place to be. Now she was nothing. Now she was their lover who could never be kissed.
Now all she could do was wait to be killed. She had failed Izzy. She had failed...
And then she realized the truth. She had not failed yet. The only failure would be if she quit trying. She could not save Izzy, but she could honor her wishes. Izzy wanted her to live.
So she would do everything within her power to live. And if she died—she would die trying.
* * *
The ship had left wherever they were docked before and they were once more at sea. Heading for an unknown destination. Endless hours of nothing. Waiting. Dreading...
When they finally came for her, she was more relieved than terrified. Though she felt both.
It was the Captain, the one who appeared to be in charge of everything. The other men seemed to respect him, although she suspected they would throw him overboard in an instant if there were any profit in it for them.
She noticed that he spoke loudly, so the other girls could hear.
“We have almost reached our final destination,” he said. “And we have arranged a special surprise for you.”
Two men forced her to her feet. They released her from the iron ring, though they tied her hands behind her back. The gag remained in place.
“The rest of you will go ashore tomorrow. To your new homes. You will be fed. Cared for. So long as you do as you are asked, you will have no reason to fear for your safety.” He stepped closer to Elena. “But you could not follow the rules. You tried to cheat me, to rob me. Me! That I can never forgive.”
He locked eyes with her. “You will be taken to a place I know, a cove not far from here where sharks swarm in abundance. Tiger sharks, the ones with the sharpest teeth and the nastiest tempers. The ones that eat people.”
She bit down on her lower lip. Do not show fear, she told herself. Do not give him the satisfaction.
“We will put you into the water,” he continued. “We will cut you, not enough to die, but enough to guarantee that you bleed. You will have to splash about to remain afloat. You will attract their attention.”
She noticed that the men behind him were not grinning with the same enthusiasm that he showed. But they did not argue with him, either. They wouldn’t. Couldn’t. They would do as they were told. Even something so horrible as this.
“Overfishing has caused a scarcity in the sharks’ normal feeding. They are hungry. They will be so glad to see you. They will chew at you. They will eat your flesh while you are still alive.”
She did not make any foolish show of defiance. But she would not scream or beg. He could kill her, maim her. Feed her to these beasts. She had begged for Izzy, and it had not helped. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her beg ever again.
The Captain turned to face his captive audience. “The rest of you will be safe. Warm. Never hungry. Never lonely.” He paused. “But I hope you will remember this. I hope you will recall the price of disobedience.” His eyes darkened. “Do not cross me, girls. Because the sharks will always be out there. And they will always be hungry.”
* * *
They put her on some kind of motorboat with two men she did not know. These young grinning idiots appeared to be new. Did the others refuse to carry out this vile execution? Did the Captain need someone fresh, two men desperate to prove themselves?
She tried to stifle her fear. This could be an opportunity, she told herself. Be strong. They will underestimate you.
The taller of the two was also the least confident. His smirk revealed a lack of certainty more than it did arrogance. “This will be your last meal,” he said, shoving her into one of the seats, her hands still bound behind her. “And you will be the meal.”
The other was little more than a boy. He still had pimples. She wondered if he was even twenty. He spoke few words but watched her constantly.
“Perhaps we will have a little fun with her, yes?” the taller one said. “Why not? A waste to let such prime meat be nothing but feed for animals.” He stroked her under the chin. “I will appreciate you, little woman. Over and over again. Then I will feed you to the monsters.”
Don’t let him break you, she told herself. Don’t let him win. There’s nothing they could do to you that is worse than what you have already experienced. What you have already survived.
His arrogance will be the open door I need.
The tall one started the engine and zoomed away from the ship, travelling far faster than was necessary or safe. In a few minutes, she could see land.
They were near something. Florida, perhaps, though she could not be sure.
Could she swim to shore? Distances could be deceptive at sea.
No. She could do it. She could do it if it took her days. She would find the strength.
She had been pulling at her bonds since they boarded the boat. Carefully, without making a show, but gradually getting the job done. Her wrists were tied with some kind of cloth. Probably a strip off someone’s shirt.
“There it is,” the tall one said, pointing ahead like Ahab at the mast, like The Boyhood of Raleigh. “We will park. We will have some fun. Then we will feed the fishes.”
If she was going to try, it would have to be now. Her hands shook and they were drenched with sweat. She ignored her racing heart and tried to focus her strength. She pulled as hard as she could at her bonds, twisting the cloth in opposite directions. They were not that strong. The men undoubtedly thought it didn’t require much to subdue her, a weak female. She created just enough give to allow her to slip one hand out.
After that, it was easy. The next wrist followed. The gag after that.
Before the men noticed, she sprang.
Since the tall boy was busy driving, she tackled the other. She hit him hard, grabbing him around the waist and shoving him toward the edge of the boat. She knew she was not as strong as he was, so she had to surprise him, to win the fight before he could fight back. He cried out, flailing his arms, but he was much too slow to stop her momentum. He hit the side of the boat and doubled over. She hit her head but ignored it. She had no time to feel pain.
The boy wore a large knife clipped in a sheath at his side. He grabbed for it and brought the knife out. It scraped her on the side. She felt blood seeping. She ignored that too. She grabbed the hand holding the knife and banged it against the edge of the boat, the metal railing. The knife fell with a clatter.
The man driving the boat heard the noise over the roar of the engine. “What?”
She had no time. She shoved the boy again and he tumbled over the side of the boat, screaming as he went. The boat careened forward.
Who was fish food now?
The driver slowed the engine and released the steering wheel. The boat jerked hard to one side. They both dove for the knife but only succeeded in sending it skittering to the rear of the boat.
He threw himself on top of her, pinning her down, then punched her hard in the face. Tears rushed to her eyes. She tasted blood at her lips. She was hurt in more places than she knew. There was no time to catalogue them. She had to get away from this man. She was terrified, staring straight into the face of the demon, her arms shaking. Somehow, she had to break free.
“You have spirit!” he cried. He twisted her right arm above her head, as if trying to pull it off. She mustered as much strength as possible, but she could not get loose. All those days tied up, her muscles must have atrophied. He was powerful. “I need to steer this boat. After I tie you up again.”
He reached for a strip of mooring rope, then stopped. Instead, he grabbed the front of her shirt and ripped it down the center. “Let us see what we are fighting for, no?” Spittle emerged on his lips. He tore her loose-fitting pants, cinched at the waist.
