Fish Out of Water (9 page)

There was a pause.

“Uh, Ellery, that was a really involved metaphor. Tell me that didn’t happen to you.”

“I wasn’t liked in high school,” he said grumpily. God. His mother had had to replace the car. “But that’s okay. I’m not well-liked now. And I still smell fish—particularly with this case.”

“What can I say? His tox screen came back—”

“Faked,” Ellery said starkly. “With a timestamp
way
beyond the expiration date of any sort of drug in his system. The real results were burned up in a car fire—but that’s not the point. The point is, I haven’t gotten the real crime-scene photos yet, have you?”

“Well, it’s a little early for the official forensic evidence, isn’t it? Don’t we usually wait for arraignment for that?” She sounded amused, because yes, the state had forty-eight hours after the bail hearing to arraign the suspect, and that was usually when the state released its evidence.

“Yes, yes, it is—but I still got a picture that’s trying to pass itself off as an official crime-scene photo. Did you get it?”

Her voice got suspicious. “Cameron in front of the counter, gun near his hand—”

“Does it have a red blur on the top left edge?”

“Yeah—that’s not like Lutz.”

“Do you see his name on your files?”

“Yes, but the signature doesn’t look like his.”

“Well, I have a totally different name altogether. And it’s not a crime-scene photo. The resolution is too low, and you can see the reflection of the photographer in the chrome on the counter—it’s a girl, white, pink hair, late teens, possible drug user.”

“Shit.” Zona’s muffled oath told Ellery she’d seen the same thing he had—and that he’d given her some information she hadn’t had before. “You’re right—where in the
fuck
are our real crime-scene photos? This… god
damm
it!”

Oh yeah. He looked at Kaden and hoped he might have just found his ticket home.

“Your evidence is tainted, Counselor.”

“We’re
not
dropping the case against a cop killer because of this,” Zona snarled. “We
will
get Lutz’s photos, and
then
we’ll build a case.”

“Zona, why would they taint the evidence like this—”

“I got no idea.”

“Have you even
talked
to Scott Bridger?”

Arizona’s sigh was pure frustration. “No. IA has him locked up tight. We may have to depose him together, with all three lawyers present.”

“Does that not
tell
you there’s more fish here than in my car?”

She laughed a little. “I have no idea why you weren’t well-liked.
Everybody
loves the guy who’s right all the time.”

“This is dirty, Zona. We’re supposed to believe it happened just like that picture—but that picture wasn’t taken by an accredited forensics team member, and the tox screen
you
have isn’t the one that was taken before the patient was given Haldol for his nausea.”

“What the—how do you—”

“Motivation. My client is innocent and I don’t want to see him suffer, so my people are moving like the fucking wind. What do you have on your side?”

Her voice sank. “Money,” she hissed. “There is a
load
of fucking money here. You have no idea who’s sending me e-mail telling me I need to get this guy under wraps.”

Oh hell. “No, but I’d
love
to know!” he sang.

“No.” He must have reached her threshold of cooperation, because he didn’t hear any compromise in that tone. “Look, pull the tainted-evidence card tomorrow—I won’t stop you. Maybe they’ll drop the case and your client can go….”

“
Where
?” he demanded. “Where in the hell are my guy—
and
his wife and his children and his sister—supposed to go if we don’t have someone else to pin this on? Where do you think he’s going to be safe?”

“Canada?”

“This is wrong, Arizona. This is not why you’re working at the DA’s office.” She legitimately wanted to put bad guys in jail. Countless lunches, a few late-night drinks, and the one thing he knew about her was that she was legit.

“I’ve got the law, and I’ve got who my office wants to prosecute—you know that. If you can get your guy off, do it. If you can even get him out on bail, do it. But I can’t help you, Ellery—not if I want to keep putting bad guys away.”

“Look,” he said, reduced to begging for crumbs, “call me when IA calls you—”

“They’re not going to
not
invite you—”

“Just like we’re both going to get legit crime-scene photos, right?”

Her silence was gratifying. It meant she was thinking.

“Yeah, no harm in that.”

“I need an invite to that party, Zona—it’s not fair
or
legal if I don’t get to depose the witness for the prosecution.”

“I’m not stupid. I’ll call you.”

“Thanks.”

Her sigh gusted through the mouthpiece, and he had the sudden thought that maybe Zona wasn’t well-liked either—that maybe she’d treasured their lunch dates and their late nights at the bar as much as he had, because they were equals, and because they had to be assholes to do their jobs right, but they were doing their jobs because they wanted to do the right thing
.

“Be careful, Ellery. This should have been a no-brainer—the way this guy looks?”

“You mean the whole black thing?” he asked, forgetting that he liked her.

“You know it’s easier to convict a black defendant than a white one. I didn’t make the system—”

“But you’re telling me I should cave to it. Well, I’m not.”

“Well, somebody expected you to—”

“Not me,” he said, feeling again the satisfaction of knowing that Jackson Rivers had picked
him
to defend his friend. “I was specially requested by the defendant—I have no idea who he was
supposed
to get.”

“Huh.” In the background he could hear her pulling hard on a straw. Well, she loved her sodas at the end of the day. “Not that I can’t see you’ve got your hands full, but maybe, you know, next time you’re taking a dump with your laptop, you should look up and see who was
supposed
to draw this case.”

Ellery blinked. “Why—”

“Because whoever at the public defender’s office was
supposed
to draw this case,
that person
might know who was hoping for a quick indictment and a plea of life without parole instead of the death penalty.”

“Is that what you’re supposed to offer?”

“Yup. Almost verbatim.”

“So my client is working the night shift for a sick employee—”

“He was what?”

“Do your own goddamned work, Arizona. You want to put a guy away using tainted evidence and money from the capitol, you figure out how and why he did it. I’m not feeding you
jack
!”

Ellery pounded End Call and rested his face in his hands. At that moment there was a knock on the door, and a guard stepped aside to let Jade Cameron—wielding her office ID—into the infirmary.

“Come in?”

“Mr. Cramer?”

Just that morning he would have been afraid of her—she
still
looked like she could bite off his head in one snap of her even, white teeth. But she also looked tired, and worried, and near tears.

“Should you even be here?” he asked. “I was sure they were going to kick
me
out.”

“Yessir,” she said softly. “To both of us leaving. But it’s more than that. I’ve got to go stay with Rhonda and the kids—they’re scared and they’re freaking out and they need reassurance.” Gently she reached out to the bed and palmed the back of her brother’s head.

“Jade?” He captured her hand and brought it to his cheek, and she stroked it with her thumb.

“No worries, K,” she whispered, bending down to kiss his forehead. “I’ll take care of them, okay?”

“How’s Jackson?” he asked, and Jade looked up, meeting Ellery’s eyes and grimacing.

“He needs a fucking ride,” she muttered. “Apparently his car got shot to shit when he was interviewing Connie.”

Kaden frowned and pushed himself up, the cuffs around his wrists making it awkward and the paper on top of the green vinyl crackling. “Someone shot at Connie?”

She sighed and sank to her knees in front of her brother. “Not
at
, K. Somebody
shot
him. Jackson hit the dirt first. He won’t say it, but if his car is completely totaled, I think it was pretty close.”

“Oh my God,” Kaden whispered. “J, they’re going to get Jacky!”

“He swears nobody saw him there,” she said, looking at Ellery and nodding. “But he’s got to give his statement at the scene, and he said he’d better stay away from me and the kids until this is all wrapped up. He said he’d see you tomorrow at the bail hearing, okay?”

Kaden nodded, visibly upset. “Connie—Jade, he was just a stupid kid. I can’t believe—”

“Believe it,” she said flatly. “And be on your toes. You get as much sleep as you can right now, K, because you need to keep your eyes open tonight.”

“You’re sleeping in the infirmary,” Ellery said, because that much he
had
accomplished. “But she’s right.”

Kaden half laughed. “That’s just awesome. So when someone rips my ass open with a toothbrush, at least I’ll be in a good place to get it stitched up.”

Jade harrumphed. “That’s no way to look at the good side. Now shut up and give me a hug so I can tell Rhonda you’re okay.”

Ellery looked away from this hug like he’d looked away from Jackson’s good-bye, focusing instead on his notes and on reassigning a few of his other cases since this one was obviously going to take a lot of his time. He looked up when Jade approached his makeshift desk at the dispensary counter.

“Jackson’s going to need a ride home,” she said quietly. “But he won’t ask you for one because he’s got his manly pride or some shit like that. And if you could call me and tell me he’s okay, I’d be much obliged.”

She said it humbly, as though she was not the same woman who’d hated him almost on sight that morning. Ellery should have been annoyed, but instead he felt like he’d won a small skirmish with an old, respected enemy.

“I hear you. I’ll pick him up.” Why not? They had a lot to discuss. “Text me the address,” he said. “I’ll call Jackson.”

Jade nodded and left, after giving her brother one last anxious hug.

Instead of going back to sleep, Kaden yawned and sat up, rolling his shoulders and trying to stretch in spite of the cuffs and the leg irons.

“Mr. Cameron?” The guard spoke up for the first time, and Kaden looked over and smiled.

“You ready to kick me out so this man can be left unmolested?” Ellery asked. Something in his stomach twisted. Good man. This was a good man.

The guard winked. “Not that I’m complaining,” he said, yawning into his paperback. “I got a chance to read, and a nap, and some quiet—telling you, it’s better than a vacation.” He stood up and moved toward the door. “But it’s time for my replacement to take over, which means visiting hours are almost over.”

“He’ll stay here,” Ellery confirmed. “Butch, if you could make sure?”

Butch nodded. “Yeah, no problem, Mr. Cramer. We’ll keep him here and out of general population—he’ll be safe for tonight.”

Ellery nodded, and for no reason at all, that moment when Jackson had stood in the conference room, teeth bared,
chest
bared, his scars on display to teach Ellery about consequences, flashed before his eyes.

“Butch?”

“Yessir?”

“Could you make sure the person who’s assigned to watch him is someone you know?”

Butch was in his late fifties, a grizzled bulldog of a man without a lot of hair left but with some of the bluest eyes Ellery had ever seen. He squinted those eyes at Ellery and blew out a breath. “Yessir,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ll make sure it’s someone square.”

Ellery met Kaden’s eyes, and Kaden shrugged. It was the best they could do.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at your bail hearing. Jade knows to bring your suit to county so you can—”

“Look like a fine upstanding citizen,” Kaden said, smiling a little. “Tell our boy to stay safe.”

Ellery grimaced. “Looks like I’ll have to—I’m apparently his taxi until he gets himself some wheels.”

Kaden jerked his chin, shooing Ellery toward the door. “Maybe he’ll get something better than that shitty Toyota this time.”

Ellery laughed a little as he exited. Ellery’d seen Jackson’s shitty Toyota too—he’d even gotten close enough to see the psychotically round little balls of trash that popped on the floor in the back like ping-pong balls.

His laugh faded, the echo down the white-tiled corridor of the jail sounding a little eerie.

He was never going to see that car again. And from the sound of it, Ellery was lucky he was going to see Jackson Rivers at
all
. That image—Jackson, green eyes flashing, muscled body heaving with emotion—would not fucking leave him
alone
.

Jade had said he wouldn’t ask—too much pride. Well, that didn’t surprise Ellery either
.
He checked out of the jail, nodded thanks to his escort, and then stepped into the swelter of the late-August afternoon. He hit the speed dial for PI with a little twinge of guilt. Maybe he should put a name there.

“I just gotta take this—” Jackson had obviously answered the call before his conversation was over. “Yeah,” he muttered into the phone.

“Need a ride?”

“Shit.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ellery said dryly. Pride. Yup. Jackson Rivers had it. “You at Coulson’s place still?”

“Ugh.”

“Is that a
word
?” Instead of turning toward the firm’s offices on L Street, he headed back toward the levee and the courthouse parking, where he’d left his car earlier.

“I’m sorry—I just haven’t had a chance to call the towing company yet. Look, Cramer, I’m going to be an hour or two, so I might as well just call a cab and you can—”

“I’ll call the towing company when I get there, and I’ll be right out.” He hung up before Jackson could object. “So there,” he muttered to the nearly empty sidewalk and the concrete buildings to his right. God, what in the hell? Your car got shot up while you were doing your job, your best friend is in jail, your support system is all involved in
that
mess, and you won’t take a ride? Fuck that!