Star Witness (3 page)

“I didn’t break anything. The driver broke my porch.” She had to suppress the urge to press her palm against her tightening chest. She just wanted to go to bed and pull the covers over her head. “What’s the matter, Mr. Prosecutor? Afraid you’re going to lose your star witness? I can guarantee you I will be there to testify. These
accidents
are nothing more than an inconvenience.”

He shook his head, and his smile faded. “I’m positive I won’t lose my witness.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of his jeans and held it up between two long, sturdy fingers.

Her stomach sank to her toes. “Oh no. No, no, no,” she said, shaking her head. “You didn’t,” she grated through clenched teeth. “Come on, Harte. Tell me that’s not—” She reached for it, but he held it over his head. If she’d had on her four-inch platform heels, she might have been able to snag it, but she was barefoot, and therefore at least six inches shorter than he.

“It’s an order of protection—” he started.

“No!” she broke in. “You are not sticking me in some airless bedbug-ridden hovel for weeks.”

“It won’t be weeks, and hopefully it won’t be bedbug-ridden or airless.” There was a definite tone of amusement in his voice. “In fact, you ought to love it. It’s a bed-and-breakfast in a Victorian house in the Lower Garden District.”

Dani crossed her arms. “I won’t go. The public defender’s office is shorthanded as it is. I have cases and trial dates.”

“Your cases are more important to you than your safety?” he shot back. “Than your
life?
”

She blinked. “My life?” she echoed. “I object. Assuming facts not in evidence.”

He shook his head. “Mahoney told me about the car, and I saw what’s left of your porch steps. If that vehicle had hit you, you’d be nothing more than a smudge on the sidewalk.”

Chapter Two

“Ouch!” Dani said, cringing at Harte’s words. “A smudge. Great. Thanks for that image.”

“Come on, Dani. Another public defender can be appointed to take your cases until this trial is over. You are in danger and no, I’m not just worried about my case. I’m worried about you.”

Dani sniffed. “Better watch out. Con Delancey will haunt you for consorting with the enemy.”

He shot her an exasperated glance. “Our grandparents’ feud is ancient history. And it was probably just for show anyhow.”

“I can believe Con Delancey was posturing, but my grandfather always fought for what he believed in. That’s why he was—” She swallowed. Why were her emotions so near the surface tonight? Even as the question flitted through her mind, she knew the answer was obvious. Because she’d almost been run down by a car.

Harte held up his hands, palms out. “I’m not suggesting anything different. I just need you to trust me, or I won’t be able to keep you safe.”

Trust him? She
knew
him. He would do anything to win, just like his grandfather. He’d proven that three years ago. Luckily for her, right now her safety meshed with his ambition. She sighed in exasperation and defeat. “When am I to be incarcerated?”

“Tomorrow morning. I tried to get you in tonight, but they’re full. They’re letting us have the run of the place for the next two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Two weeks sounded like forever. Then the significance of the time frame hit her. “Wait a minute. The trial date’s been set?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you. It was moved forward. It starts Tuesday.”

“Tuesday?” Dani said, shocked. “You mean as in Thursday—” She held up a finger. “Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday?” she continued, counting each day off on a finger. “But we aren’t ready.”

“I know. Tell me about it. Don’t worry. We’ll prep all weekend. Anyhow, the B-and-B has agreed that we can extend your stay for as long as the trial goes on. They’re happy with the weekly rate we offered them.”

“Weekly rate? As long as the trial goes on?” she cried. “No. This is not going to work. I’m going to see the judge and get that order vacated.”

Harte gave her that smile again, the one that looked more like a smirk and made her so angry. “You can try, but ever since I passed the bar, I’m Judge Rossi’s favorite nephew.”

She had to fight to keep her jaw from dropping. Of course he had an uncle who was a judge. Of course he went to him for the order of protection. “So that’s how you managed to get a judge’s signature this time of night. Must be nice to have relatives who will skirt the law for you any time you please.”

His smile faded. “I didn’t skirt the law. I merely called a judge I know rather than picking one from the phone book. You’d have done the same, Madame Public Defender.”

“Fine,” she said grudgingly. “You said it was a bed-and-breakfast? I guess that won’t be too awful. Give me the address. I’ll head over there tomorrow.”

“It’s on Religious Street, between Race and Orange. But as of—” he glanced at the piece of paper he held “—nine forty-three p.m. today, I’m responsible for you. So I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay, okay. Fine.” She held up her hands in surrender. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a bully?”

“Nope. Never.” He cocked his hip to slide the packet back into his pocket.

Dani couldn’t help sneaking a glimpse at the back side of the snug jeans before she stepped around him to open the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He reached over her shoulder to push the door closed, which put him way too close. She caught a faint whiff of something fresh and citrusy as she glanced up at him. She was going to have to get some higher heels. Not being eye-to-eye with him made her feel small.

“Hold it,” he said. “Not so fast. I want to ask you some questions about what happened tonight.”

“I told the police everything. Go read their report.”

“Tell me just exactly what you were doing when the car tried to run you down.”

Dani clenched her teeth. She’d seen that determined glint in his eye before—when they’d faced each other across the courtroom. He’d badger her until he got answers. With a defeated shake of her head, she walked over to the kitchen table and sat. “I’m really tired, so could we make it quick?”

“I’ve got no problem with that.”

She rested her clasped hands on the table and stared at them. “I was late leaving the office. It was probably six-thirty, so by the time I got home it must have been around seven.”

He nodded without speaking.

“I pulled into the driveway, parked and...” She paused. “I walked around to the front of the house to get the mail. The car just popped up out of nowhere. I heard the engine rev, but I didn’t pay any attention to it until the sound kept getting louder and louder.”

“Where were you when you realized the car was coming at you?”

“About ten feet or so from the mailbox.” She wasn’t happy about having to relive those moments. She’d been through them already, she’d had to answer questions about them twice for the police and now Harte was asking the same questions. She pushed her fingers through her hair. “Every single bit of this is in my statement,” she groused.

“You’d already gotten the mail?”

“No. I was walking toward the box.”

“So you realized it was coming at you...”

She nodded. “And I just ran. I don’t even remember jumping up onto the porch.”

“Sounds like it’s a good thing you did.”

She rubbed her wrist. “I do remember the landing. Did you look at the damage?” she asked.

“A little bit. I couldn’t tell a whole lot in the dark, but the front steps are basically splinters now.” He looked at her. “Why? You haven’t?”

She shook her head. “No. As soon as they were finished questioning me, I came inside, took a hot shower and tried to relax. Then I heard you sneaking around.”

He opened his mouth as if to deny again that he’d been sneaking, then apparently changed his mind. “Did you see him?”

“See who? Oh, the driver?” She shook her head. “I barely got a glimpse of the car. The first thing I knew after I started running was that I was on the porch and my wrist and my left hip hurt. And my elbows and knees stung.” She lifted her arm.

Harte frowned at the angry red scrape just under her elbow.

“I sat up and tried to catch the license, but the car was nearly out of sight and I couldn’t make it out.”

“Can you describe the car?” Harte asked.

“It was dark, maybe black.”

“And the shape? The size?”

Dani closed her eyes. “It looked really big, but that might be because it was racing toward me.”

“An SUV?”

She shook her head. “No. It was a—” She gestured. “A regular car. You know, a sedan.”

“Have you ever met Ernest Yeoman?”

Dani shook her head.

“Myron Stamps? Paul Guillame?”

“Come on, Harte. I’ve answered these questions a dozen times. For the police, for the other assistant district attorney and now I’ve got to answer them for you? I’m tired.”

“Humor me,” he said. “I want you to answer as if you’re answering on the stand.”

Dani sighed. “I know Senator Stamps. He used to come over here a lot to talk to Granddad. They’d argue into the night. I’d make coffee for them.”

“What did they argue about?” he asked.

“You know all this,” she groused. “The docks. The Port of New Orleans. Granddad fought for raising tariffs and taxes. He was convinced that lowering tariffs would allow more smuggling through the Port of New Orleans.”

“And Stamps argued against that?”

She nodded. “Sure. He was on Con Delancey’s side.”

“Lower the tariffs to boost revenue and create more jobs,” Harte said.

“Not to mention creating more crime-smuggling contraband and drugs.”

Harte frowned, looking thoughtful. “I’ve never understood that argument. Smuggling by definition is bypassing normal import channels.”

“You’re not that naive, are you? They smuggle the contraband and drugs in
with
the legally imported items. Sometimes inside them. Higher tariffs cut into their profits, and enforcing the higher tariffs means more port authority officers around.”

Harte nodded. “I know the reasoning. So back to Stamps. You’re saying he and your granddad butted heads on the issue of tariffs, even though your granddad’s position had never changed? I wonder why.”

“Granddad didn’t like Stamps, but he was too polite to refuse to see him. He always said—” Dani stopped. As an attorney, she hated speculation and hearsay. Harte would probably light into her if she started relating her granddad’s opinion of Stamps.

“What?” he asked.

She gave a little shake of her head and made a dismissive gesture.

“Dani, tell me. Anything might be important.”

“Even if defense council would cut me off in a heartbeat for hearsay?”

His eyes softened in amusement. “Tell me and let me decide.”

“It could be considered defamatory.”

“Then definitely tell me.”

Dani covered a yawn with her hand. “Okay. Granddad said that back when he and Con Delancey faced off over the tariff issue, it was a gentleman’s argument between two public servants who genuinely believed in their position. He had a very different opinion about Myron Stamps.”

“Tell me.”

“He was convinced that Stamps was doing it for money.”

“Money? What money? Why haven’t you told me this before?”

She shrugged. “Apparently, when he was first elected, Stamps was all for more stringent controls on the port. Then a few years ago he abruptly shifted positions. Granddad figured somebody got to him.”

Harte took a small notepad out of his pocket and jotted something down. “Somebody as in—?”

Dani drew in a long breath. “I don’t know. I hate to be rude, but I’m really tired.”

He assessed her. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess I forgot that you had an exciting evening. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine. Just exhausted and a little sore. I guess I’ll see you in the morning around what? Nine or ten o’clock? So you can incarcerate me.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Nope. You’ll see me earlier than that. I’ll be staying here tonight.”

“What?” She forced a laugh. “Right. Now, that’s funny.” She walked over to the back door and reached for the knob. But before she could grasp it, he was right there, his hand out, holding it shut.

“Stop that,” she said. “Get out of the way. You need to go home. I’ve got locks. Those people are not going to do anything else tonight—if ever.”

“You can’t know that. There’s no way I’m taking the chance. I told you. The order of protection names me as the responsible party. If you kick me out, I’ll just sleep in my car in your driveway.”

Dani regarded him. His strong jaw was tight. The irritating smile was gone and his brown eyes looked positively black underneath the dark brows. He meant business. She took a step backward and threw her hands out in a helpless gesture.

“Fine, then. Knock yourself out. I hope your car’s comfortable.”

His mouth curled up on one corner. “It’s a Jeep Compass, so it ought to be.”

“Excellent,” she snapped. “I’m glad for you. Good night.”

He started to say something else, but Dani lifted her chin and pressed her lips together. He inclined his head in a brief nod, shot that irritating smile at her one more time and left, pulling the back door closed behind him.

As Dani turned the lock, her hand shook. The fact that Harte was right outside her door, making sure nothing happened to her tonight, should be comforting.

It wasn’t. All it did was provide an omnipresent reminder that, at least according to him, she was in grave danger.

* * *

I
N THE DRIVER’S
seat of his Jeep, Harte pressed the lever that slid the seat back as far as it would go. He held it until the motor whined, then stretched his legs. He had about two inches more room than he’d had twenty seconds before. “Guess that’s it,” he muttered. Then he reclined the seat back and wriggled his butt, settling in.

He’d bought the Jeep because it drove nicely in the city as well as on dirt roads and hiking paths. He’d never slept in it, but figured it shouldn’t be too bad.

As he searched for a comfortable position, he thought about Dani. He hadn’t expected her to actually banish him to his car for the night. That house was huge. There had to be at least one guest bedroom. Hell, she could have at least offered him a couch.