Nothing But the Truth (30 page)

Ryan’s first stop was the intake division. She strode over to Joyce Grandon’s desk.

“Good morning, Joyce.”

“Morning, Ms. Foster. What can I do for you?”

Ryan handed over a small piece of paper. “I’d like you to pull this case for me.”

Joyce stood and Ryan waved her back into her seat. “Sorry, I meant pull it off the docket. I’ve done some checking and we don’t have what we need to present an indictment. I’ll notify the filing agency. Will you put the file in my office when you have a moment?” Joyce merely nodded, though Ryan was certain she had to be curious about the request. Ryan trusted her to be discreet. “I’d appreciate it if you deliver the file yourself.”

“I will.”

Ryan turned to leave, but thought of something else. “Joyce?”

“Yes?”

Ryan didn’t respond at first, embarrassed to admit she didn’t know the answer to the question she was about to pose. “What happens to an inmate if a case is never presented? I mean, how will the sheriff’s office know to release them?”

“There’s a procedure in place.” Joyce paused. “Would you like me to take care of it?”

“Yes, thank you. We won’t be presenting this case. Ever. If Cindy has any questions, have her see me.” Ryan had no idea what she would tell the prosecutor in charge of presenting the case to the grand jury, but she figured by the time Cindy Laramie got around to asking, she might not even be here anymore.

Ryan left the eleventh floor and wandered the halls to consider her next step. The moment she saw Luke Tyson in the hall outside Judge Langston’s courtroom, the next piece of the plan fell into place.

“Hello, Ryan. Are you doing the pretrial yourself?” Luke referred to the pretrial hearing on the Edwards’s case set later that morning. Jury selection was scheduled to start on Friday, a tradition in a capital cases. The first day, jurors would show up and receive the lengthy written questionnaires used in death penalty cases, and early requests for dismissal would be entertained by the judge. The pretrial hearing scheduled for this morning was designed to resolve any remaining legal issues prior to jury selection. Both sides had filed fully briefed motions and were prepared to argue their respective sides to Judge Langston. Ryan’s intention was to let Jeff handle the heavy lifting, but she suddenly had a very different idea.

“Luke, I think your client should plead.”

He laughed. “Little late now, don’t you think? Besides, you folks have never offered a deal.”

Ryan took a deep breath. What she was about to do went against all her well-honed prosecutorial instincts, but her resolve was strong. She was going to make headlines, but not the kind likely to get her elected to public office. She gestured down the hall. “Let’s find a quiet place and see what we can work out.”

*

Brett pushed through the courtroom doors. Judge Langston was on the bench and a hearing was underway. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see Ryan. She knew she would run into her again soon enough, but she wasn’t prepared for the jumble of emotions just being in the same room with Ryan evoked. Torn, she finally slid into a seat at the rear of the courtroom. She watched and waited.

“Counsel, Mr. Tyson informs me you have reached an agreement,” said Judge Langston.

Jeff started to stand, but Ryan placed a hand on his shoulder, urging him to remain seated. She stood instead. “That’s correct, Judge. Fully executed plea papers are in the file.”

Jeff turned toward Ryan and Brett got a clear shot of his shock at Ryan’s pronouncement.
Ryan’s pleading this case?
Brett couldn’t imagine Duncan would go along with a plea offer. He’d spent lots of political capital building up the Edwards case as a true example of why the citizens of Texas were justified in delivering the death penalty.

As Judge Langston read through the plea papers in the court jacket, Brett heard Jeff muttering in Ryan’s ear, loud enough for her to hear his displeasure about the news. Ryan sat facing forward, to all appearances ignoring the arguments of her associate.

“Everything looks to be in order. Will the defendant please stand?” Ross Edwards stood in response to the judge’s request, and Brett watched the almost mechanical plea proceeding. Pursuant to the agreement, Edwards was sentenced to forty years in prison. He would be eligible for parole in half that time. From what Brett could tell, he was likely to be in his seventies the first time the parole board considered his release. Definitely a win for the state, but Brett wondered what cost Ryan had paid to avert a trial and why.

When the hearing ended, Judge Langston exited the door behind the bench, and Ryan watched the bailiffs lead Ross back to the jail where he would await transfer to a division of the Texas Department of Corrections. Satisfied with the resolution of the case, she methodically loaded her file into her briefcase. Jeff finally realized Ryan wasn’t going to respond to his scathing commentary, and he stalked off. Ryan imagined he would find many sympathetic listeners among their colleagues. Not much was worse to a veteran prosecutor than having your boss completely undermine all your hard work by pleading away a winnable case. She wanted to explain her reasoning to him, but too many details were linked to secrets she wasn’t ready to reveal.

As Ryan walked toward the exit of the courtroom, she saw Brett seated in the back row.
How long has she been sitting there?
Ryan wondered what Brett thought about the plea.
Is she here to see me?
She met Brett’s stare and hurried toward her. A familiar reporter from the
Dallas Morning News
inserted himself into her path.

“Surprising development on the Edwards case, Ryan. Care to comment?”

She glanced around his shoulder, willing Brett to wait. “Not so surprising, Ralph. We had solid evidence against Ross Edwards. This morning, I had a conference with Edwards and Mr. Tyson, and I laid out the strong and compelling evidence in favor of a guilty verdict. He made the only logical choice. I expect he will spend most of the rest of his life in the penitentiary, and I hope he thinks about Mary Dinelli every moment of every day.”

“If the evidence was so strong, why offer a plea?”

 “Our job is to uphold the law and protect the citizens of Dallas County. Edwards’s conviction and lengthy prison term means we did our job.” Ryan shot a glance at Brett before she finished. “I personally contacted the victim’s family before we extended this offer. Sure, we could have made even bigger headlines with a month-long trial seeking the death penalty, but today we accomplished justice, swiftly and efficiently. It’s not always about…”

Brett didn’t try to hide the fact she was listening to Ryan’s conversation with the reporter. This cool, collected Ryan was vastly different from the haggard, pleading woman who’d shown up on her doorstep the evening before. Which Ryan had she fallen for? Which Ryan threatened to break her heart? Brett knew the answers weren’t simple. The real question was, did she have the fortitude to find the truth?

She could tell the interview was winding down. Time to decide if she should stick around or duck out before Ryan got any closer. A tap on her shoulder made the decision for her.

“Brett, did you say you needed to see the judge? She’s got about five minutes now if you want to head back to chambers.”

Brett turned to face Judge Langston’s coordinator. She had mentioned to Gloria she needed to talk to the judge about the Rawlings case. She looked back at Ryan then followed Gloria to the judge’s chambers. Gloria chattered the entire way there. “I ran that case number. It’s not on the computer anymore. I called upstairs and they said it was pulled off the docket. The defendant’s being released.”

Brett was surprised by Gloria’s efficiency. Maybe she had the case number wrong. “You sure it was the Rawlings case?”

“Yes. Joyce, upstairs, said the case is over. You can go ahead and submit a pay sheet—“

“Thanks, Gloria,” Brett cut her off. “Will you let the judge know I don’t need to talk to her? I have something I need to take care of.” Brett didn’t wait for a response before she took off down the hall hoping to get some answers.

Ryan wasn’t in the courtroom. Brett’s next choice was the DA workroom. She swung open the door, but her entry was blocked when Detective Paulson barreled past her. She wore a fierce scowl and ignored Brett’s greeting. Brett stared at her back for a moment before entering the room. Jeff Oates was sitting in the main area with Detective Harwell. Neither looked any happier than Paulson. Brett couldn’t really blame them.

Jeff spoke first. “Guess you heard your witness skills are no longer necessary.”

“I heard something about that. What gives?”

He shook his head. “
Ms. Foster
pled the case. First I learned of a deal was seconds before it happened.” The growl of his tone signaled he was furious. “Any other details, you’ll need to see her.”

No wonder Jeff was pissed. He had worked hard to make sure Edwards received the ultimate punishment. From a defense attorney’s perspective, the forty years Edwards got was a hefty chunk of time, but Brett knew Jeff’s view was skewed.

Brett had a million questions, but she decided further discussion was only going to intensify his anger. She searched for a good excuse for her appearance in the workroom. “Would you like me to call Kenneth and let him know you won’t need him?”

“You can. We were supposed to meet with him again tomorrow. I can just tell him when he shows up.”

She felt her sympathy for him fade as she realized he hadn’t notified her he planned to meet with her client again.
Typical prosecutor.
Once he’d started thinking of Kenneth as his witness instead of her client, he totally disregarded professional boundaries.
Ryan wouldn’t have crossed that line.
Brett pushed the thought away. She wasn’t sure she was ready to examine what Ryan would or wouldn’t do.

She started to remind Jeff to contact her if he wanted further contact with her client, but realized the point was moot. “I’ll call Kenneth myself.”

*

Ryan changed into her favorite sweats. She’d left the office with every intention of heading to the gym for a sweaty bout with a boxing bag, but her car drove home as if it had a mind of its own. Once there, she didn’t have the energy to do anything but sprawl on the couch. Her guilt about her lazy behavior dissipated when she realized where she was and what she did or didn’t do wouldn’t matter to anyone soon.

She glanced at the typed, folded resignation letter sitting on her coffee table.
You can tear it up. Go back tomorrow as if nothing happened. You can still have everything you worked for, everything you ever wanted.
Not so long ago, temptation would have ruled her actions. Surely, Leonard could fix everything, make it so her indiscretions would benefit rather than detract from her ability to do her job and ascend to his.

Ryan shook her head. She knew better. And now there was Brett. Doubtless, she felt betrayed by the revelation regarding Ryan’s sexual indiscretions, not to mention the legal conflicts she now had to unravel. Her letter of resignation was a small step toward repairing some of the damage. Ryan decided to rest a bit before taking the next, bigger steps.

*

Kenneth’s cell number was disconnected, so Brett called Tony to get his address. As she recalled, the address his mother had written on the intake sheet during their first meeting was just a few miles from her office. She plugged the address into her GPS and left the courthouse garage.

The old Oak Lawn neighborhood was on the sketchy side. New homeowners found great deals on older houses with lots of future potential in this area bordered by decaying apartment buildings and aging strip malls offering a wide selection of liquor stores and pawnshops. Unfortunately, the recent tank in the housing market meant many put off restoration, and the result was a jumbled mix of vacant, dilapidated structures next to cozy, updated homes. Kenneth’s home was the latter.

Brett parked her Prius and walked up the drive alongside a gas-guzzling SUV. She knocked on the door, but no one answered. After waiting several minutes, she decided to leave a note. As she dug through her purse looking for a pen and paper, she heard voices coming from the back of the house. Brett abandoned her search for writing materials and walked along the flagstone path leading to the backyard. What she saw there made her pull up short.

Mrs. Phillips was standing in the center of the yard yelling at a woman who was standing in front of her. She emphasized each word by poking a finger into the chest of the other woman, and when she finally stepped out of the way of the finger jabbing, Brett had a clear view of Detective Kim Paulson.

Curiosity held Brett in place. She listened to the exchange.

“You promised me he would get the death penalty.”

“I said I would do everything I could, and I did.” Paulson waved her hands in the air. “I can’t help it if that bitch prosecutor sold out a perfect case.”

“What did he tell them to get that deal?”

Paulson didn’t answer, and Phillips’s tone grew more anxious. “He gave me up, didn’t he? I thought you were perfectly placed to make this work. ‘I’ll handle everything’ you said. ‘Don’t worry.’ He told them where to find me.” Her voice was blaring now. “They could be on their way now.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m in charge of this case. If they had information about you, I would be the first to know. They don’t even know your name.”