Trial Junkies (A Thriller) (27 page)

Hutch's face must have shown his alarm, because the other one said, "Nobody wants to hurt you, Mr. Hutchinson. This is merely a request for a private conversation."

"With who?"

"The man we work for."

"Really?" Hutch said. He didn't even trying to hide the sarcasm. "I'm glad you told me that, because I don't think I could've figured it out on my—"

A hand reached over and gripped his elbow. "Get in the car, Mr. Hutchinson. We don't have much time before court convenes."

The grip was just firm enough to let him know that this wasn't the time or place to argue about it.

Hutch smiled and got in the car.

S
EVERAL MINUTES LATER
they pulled into the underground parking lot of a sleek glass building located about ten blocks north of the courthouse. They found a space, got out of the sedan, then rode the elevator to the top floor.

Hutch tried to tell himself that he had nothing to worry about, that this was merely another adventure he could use as inspiration for his work—assuming he ever bothered to go
back
to work—an exercise in emotional turmoil that would serve as a sense memory he could summon up at will.

But the moment the elevator doors slid open, he relaxed, knowing exactly who had summoned him for this little confab.

The apartment beyond was one that even a rich man would drool over—which, technically speaking, included Hutch. It featured a bank of bay windows overlooking the city, furniture as sleek and modern as the building they occupied, and even—get this—an indoor lap pool.

That pool was currently occupied by a tall man taking long, luxurious strokes through the clear blue water, his body fairly taut and well-muscled for a guy in his early sixties. When he finished the lap, he stopped, stood up in the water and slicked back his white hair.

As Hutch stepped into the room, his captors giving him space, the man said, "Thank you for coming on such short notice, Ethan."

Hutch stiffened at the sound of his given name. Of the people he knew, only Jenny and his parents had called him that and he resented hearing it come out of this guy's mouth.

But he was all too happy to give back. "No problem, Nate."

Nathaniel Keating bristled, studying him with vaguely hostile eyes. Eyes that had never bothered to look in his direction during the last week and a half in court. Had never once acknowledged his presence, not even at the funeral four months ago, despite the fact that the two men had something in common—their love of Jenny.

So why the acknowledgement now?

As Keating climbed out of the pool, an attractive Filipina in sweats appeared out of nowhere and handed him a towel, saying, "Five minutes."

Keating nodded, began patting himself dry and looked again at Hutch. "Nice of Judge O'Donnell to extend the lunch hour, wasn't it? After your friend's attorney decimated that idiot cop on the stand, I was in desperate need of  a workout. Hopefully things will go better this afternoon."

"What do you want, Keating?"

He smiled. "I want what everyone wants. What I assume you would want. Justice for my little girl. The girl you supposedly once loved, remember?"

Hutch sighed. "Is this gonna be one of those exercises where you take forever to get to the point? Because I'd just as soon be back in the courthouse right now."

"As would I," Keating said. "But, you see, I got a disturbing phone call a short while ago. About you and one of your college friends trying to stir up trouble at my daughter's law firm."

So that was what this was about. Apparently the office manager had Keating on speed dial.

"Nobody's stirring up anything," Hutch told him. "We're just looking for the truth."

Keating laughed. "The truth? I assume you're not speaking philosophically."

Hutch said nothing.

"If you want the truth, Ethan, it's in that courtroom. As much as I might admire your loyalty to an old friend, it's severely misplaced, and it offends me that you and your college pal seem to be going out of your way to... well, to be honest, I'm not sure
what
you're up to. And I'd like to know."

Hutch spread his hands. "Like I told you..."

Keating nodded. "The truth. And what does the man in the photograph have to do with that?"

Hutch debated how much he should tell him. If he told Keating about his hunch, his gut feeling, would the old guy jump in with a
rah-rah-sis-boom-bah
?

Doubtful. Like everyone else, he thought Ronnie was guilty. This trial was merely a formality. Hutch could try to dissuade him of that notion, but why bother? The guy wasn't known for his pliancy.

"Well?" Keating said. "Who is the man in the photograph?"

"Probably no one. We're just looking for alternate suspects for the crime and—"

"The crime?" Keating barked. "The crime? Is that how you see it? Some abstract point of fact that needs to be examined and dissected the way that bitch dissected my little girl?"

"That isn't exactly what I—"

"Shut the hell up."

He nodded to the two mercenaries and they stepped forward, grabbing Hutch by the arms. Then he tossed the towel aside and moved in close, the hostility in his eyes no longer vague.

"This may not come as a surprise to you, Hutchinson, but I've never approved of you. Back when you and Jenny were in college, I don't know how many times I tried to persuade her to move out of that house and come back home. But she'd found her...
independence
... and wouldn't listen to me, even when I threatened to cut off her funding."

He was right. None of this was news to Hutch.

"I'd only met you a couple times," Keating went on, "but I knew immediately what kind of man you were. Getting my daughter into your bed wasn't enough to satisfy you. You smelled her money and wanted it, too."

Hutch's anger was instant and unrelenting. "That's complete bullshit, you son-of-a—"

An explosion of pain blossomed in his left kidney. Pain so acute that his knees buckled and he would have dropped to the floor if it hadn't been for the two men holding his arms. The blow had come from the Filipina towel girl, who had somehow managed to circle around behind him as they spoke. He had been so focused on Keating that he hadn't even realized she was still in the room.

As the pain rocketed through Hutch's body, Keating said, "Don't even try to deny it, you little fuck. You smelled her money and I knew the only way to protect my daughter was to dangle another carrot in front of you. A more exciting carrot. One that few people would say no to."

Hutch coughed. Tried to breathe. "...What are you talking about?"

"Are you really that clueless? Did you think you were approached by that casting agent because of your good looks and winning personality? Did you think you got the job because of your raw acting talent?"

Hutch was at a loss for words.

"I know a lot of people, Ethan. Powerful people. And some of those people owe me favors. It was no different back then." He paused. "Of course, none of us could have known that you'd actually wind up with a hit TV show. I mean, Jack Van Parkes, for godsakes? Give me a fucking break. All I wanted was get you out of Chicago and away from my daughter. And to prove to her you were the loser I thought you were. Game, set, match."

The pain finally subsided a bit, but it had been replaced by such a feeling of dismay that Hutch still couldn't find the words to respond. He had known his career was a fluke, but could this asshole really be the great and powerful Oz he claimed to be? Had he engineered that very first audition? Had he called in a favor to get Hutch the job?

And was it possible that, somewhere down deep, Hutch had known this all along? Had sensed it?

It might explain a lot of things. His rejection of Jenny. His descent into booze and drugs. All because he'd known Keating was right. That he
was
a loser. The type who would chase temptation and forget everyone around him. Those who mattered to him.

Keating smiled now, as if reading his mind. "How's that for truth?"

"Fuck you," Hutch managed, but it was said without much fire.

He half expected another blow to the kidney, but it didn't come. Instead, Keating said, "Here's what I want from you now. I want you to butt out of this. Forget your alternate suspects, forget your old college friends, and go back to Los Angeles where you belong. Lose yourself in that insular little world they have out there, and leave my Jenny alone."

Hutch eyed him defiantly. "And if I don't?"

"Then I'll have to put you on a plane myself."

T
HEY DROPPED HIM
off where they had picked him up, a little less than a block from the courthouse.

Hutch's kidney still ached as the car door slammed behind him and the sedan pulled away, Keating in back now, giving him one last look before dismissing him from his mind. They would circle around and pull up in front of the courthouse and Keating would once again play the stoic, grieving father as he walked up the steps past the throng of reporters and video cameras.

For the briefest of moments, Hutch entertained the idea of leaving Chicago. He thought about running away with Ronnie, and for a millisecond, even considered herding sheep somewhere in South America.

Or he could do as Keating had suggested and simply go back to L.A.

But then he looked down the block toward the courthouse and asked himself, what would Jenny want him to do? And he knew that she would want him to stay. Just as she had before. She would want him to fight for Ronnie, to help prove that this trial was a severe miscarriage of justice.

But she would also want him to prove her father wrong.

And with this in mind, Hutch ignored the ache in his side and started walking toward the courthouse, determined to stare the old man down as he strode into the gallery, give him a look that said,
you can try, but you won't succeed.
 

Not this time.

Ten minutes later, Hutch did exactly that.

— 41 —

"W
HAT'S WITH OLD
man Keating?" Andy asked. "Guy's really giving you the evil eye."

Hutch shook his head. "Long story. Apparently a lot longer than I thought."

Monica, Tom and Gus were seated on either side of them and they all looked at Hutch curiously. But before they could hammer him with any questions, the bailiff called out, "All rise!" and they got to their feet.

As the door behind the bench opened and Judge O'Donnell took a seat in his high-backed chair, Andy whispered, "See? What did I tell you? Dude definitely got laid during the break."

Andy quietly sang the first two lines of
Afternoon Delight
, and Monica snickered. So did Tom and Gus. And despite himself, Hutch joined in, thinking he could use a laugh just about now.

His kidney still ached and he was afraid he'd be pissing blood tonight.

He felt Keating's gaze on him and wondered what the old man's next step would be. Send out the Filipina towel girl to do more damage? Or was it all bluff in hopes that Hutch would tuck his tail and flee?

Judge O'Donnell shot a look in their direction, nearly provoking another wave of snickers, then said, "With all present and accounted for, court is back in session. Mr. Abernathy, please call your next witness."

Ronnie turned now, making brief eye contact with Hutch, and he knew he'd made the right decision in ignoring Keating's threat. If any of the old guy's lackeys came within ten feet of him, he'd call the cops.

Hopefully no one would have to call the paramedics.

Abernathy stood up, looking fully recovered from the morning session. "I'd like to call Ms. Carlene Harding to the stand."

So that's why Jenny's secretary was out.

A guard moved to a door, pushed it open and said something to the person waiting behind it. A moment later a tall black woman wearing a stylish but conservative skirt suit stepped into the courtroom and made her way to the witness box. She was movie-star pretty, and it looked to Hutch as if she'd spent some time in the makeup chair before driving to court today.

Everyone waited as she was sworn in and stated her name, then Abernathy approached the podium.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Harding."

She smiled warmly. "Hello." No case of the jitters for this witness. In fact, she looked so calm and collected that Hutch had to wonder if she was on something.

"Ms. Harding, where are you currently employed?"

"The Law Offices of Treacher and Pine." There was a hint of pride in her voice.

"And what is your occupation?"

"I'm a legal secretary."