Brad Meltzer - Dead Even

Approaching the prosecutor’s table on the left-hand side of the room, Sara put down her briefcase and turned toward Conrad. “You don’t think…” She stopped when she saw Jared and Kozlow enter the courtroom.

Shooting a cold stare at his wife, Jared made his way to the defense table and set down his briefcase. He then turned his back to Sara and Conrad.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” Kozlow asked.

“Shut up,” Jared said, opening up his briefcase.

For the next ten minutes, both parties sat silently at their respective tables, waiting for Judge Bogdanos to arrive. Periodically, Sara looked over her shoulder, scanning the crowd. “This is bad,” she said to Conrad. “I think we’re in trouble.”

Before Conrad could reply, the clerk of the court announced, “All rise! The Honorable Samuel T. Bogdanos presiding.”

Rubbing his well-trimmed beard, Bogdanos took the bench and motioned for everyone to return to their seats. After checking to see that both parties were present, he asked if there were any final motions or anything else to discuss before jury selection took place.

“No,” Sara said.

“No, Your Honor,” Jared said.

“Then let’s begin. Mitchell, please bring in the jurors.”

The taller of the two court officers walked to the back of the room and stepped out to the hallway. He returned with twenty prospective jurors. As the prospects filed into the jury box, Guff came running into the room with a panicked expression on his face. He rushed to the front row of the spectator section and got Sara’s attention. “I need to speak to you,” he said.

“Why?” she said. “I thought you were going to-”

“Forget about that,” Guff said, his voice deathly serious. “We’ve got problems.”

Seeing that the jurors still weren’t seated, Sara got out of her seat and approached her assistant. “This better be good. We’re trying to make an impression on-”

“Claire Doniger is dead,” Guff interrupted.

“What?” Sara asked, her mouth agape. “That can’t be.”

“I’m telling you, she’s dead. They found her body early this morning. She’s a real mess – throat slashed, knife jammed in her skull – she was completely mutilated.”

“Ms. Tate, may I remind you that we have a jury to select?” Bogdanos said, losing his patience.

Sara turned around and saw that Conrad, Jared, Kozlow, the judge, the court staff, and all the jurors were staring at her. “Your Honor, may I approach the bench?” she asked.

“No, Ms. Tate, you may not approach the bench. I already asked if there were-”

“We have an emergency,” Sara said.

Scrutinizing Sara with a penetrating gaze, Bogdanos said, “Approach.”

Jared and Conrad followed Sara to the bench.

Sara leaned in toward the judge. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Honor, but my assistant just told me that one of our key witnesses was found dead this morning.”

“What?” Jared blurted.

“Who is it?” Conrad asked. “Harrison?”

“Don’t say another word,” Bogdanos warned. He looked over at the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry to do this to you, but we need a few more minutes before we begin. So we’re going to ask that you continue to wait in the hallway until we’re ready. Mitchell, if you don’t mind…”

When the court officer was finished escorting the jurors out of the courtroom, Jared asked, “Who is it? What happened?”

“It’s Claire Doniger,” Sara said. “They found her murdered early this morning.”

“What?” Kozlow asked, sounding shocked.

“Don’t give us that innocent nonsense,” Conrad warned Kozlow.

“Don’t you dare make an accusation,” Jared said, pointing a finger at Conrad.

“Enough,” Bogdanos said. “Ms. Tate, what would you like me to do?”

Sara looked at Conrad.

“We’d like to ask for a continuance until we can get some more information,” Conrad said. “Although we know the trial will have to go forward, we’ll require at least a day or two to reorganize our case. Claire Doniger was a vital witness for us.”

“Your Honor, there’s no reason for a continuance,” Jared jumped in. “This death may be a surprise, but her testimony was duplicative. I ask that the motion be-”

“A witness just died, Mr. Lynch,” Bogdanos warned. “Even you should acknowledge that. Motion granted. We’ll continue Monday morning.”

“What’d he say?” Kozlow asked as Jared hung up the pay phone on the first floor of 100 Centre Street.

“I’ve never heard Rafferty like that. He was devastated. His voice was shaking. He kept asking me questions, but it was like he was lost.” Jared picked up his briefcase and headed for the front door of the courthouse. “I have to be honest, though, I thought you guys-”

“Jesus, man, are you nuts? This isn’t some crusty old neighbor – this is Claire we’re talking about. Rafferty was crazy for her. If I even looked in her direction, he’d smack me in the back of the head.”

“Maybe they had a falling-out or something.”

“Not a chance. Man, did they really find her with a knife in her skull?”

“It sounds like she was really brutalized. Do you have any idea who might’ve done it?”

“Just one,” Kozlow said. “And if it’s him, I pity the poor bastard. Rafferty’s going to rip him apart.”

As he walked up the three flights of stairs to Elliott’s apartment, Conrad tried to be as quiet as possible. He didn’t think Elliott was home, but he wasn’t taking any chances. That’s why he had insisted on coming alone. With everything that had happened, it was the only way to make sure nothing got out. Secrecy guaranteed privacy. And once Conrad had privacy, the rest of his role was easy: Get inside and wait until Elliott shows up. Catching him unprepared would put him on the defensive. Then, as soon as he walked in, explain the situation – the fingerprints on the knife that killed Claire were traced back to Elliott, and everyone now knew he murdered her.

Of course, Elliott would deny it, but that wasn’t the point. All that really mattered was that Elliott heard Sara’s deal: If Elliott gave them a statement on Kozlow and Rafferty, they’d reduce Claire’s murder to manslaughter. And if Conrad could get that, they were halfway home.

Reaching Elliott’s front door, Conrad put his finger over the peephole and tapped lightly on the door. No answer. He knocked again. Still no answer. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the six skeleton keys that a colleague in Crime Scene had given him. Although most of the keys didn’t work on new, more advanced locks, they still had a high success rate on old locks in run-down buildings. Like Elliott’s. One by one, Conrad tried each key. The first three didn’t work. But on his fourth try, Conrad heard the quiet click of access. Smiling to himself, he turned the knob and opened the door. He couldn’t wait to surprise Elliott. He couldn’t wait to pin him in a corner. And he couldn’t wait to watch him squirm.

The only problem was, Elliott was home the entire time. He’d known Conrad was coming since late the previous night. And as he pulled back the hammer on his gun, he was fully prepared to deal with him. Stepping inside Elliott’s apartment, Conrad didn’t even see the first shot coming.

When the elevator doors opened, Jared and Kozlow stepped out and headed for Jared’s office. “Are we done for the day?” Kozlow asked. “I’m getting tired of wearing this suit.”

“Then take it off. I could care less.”

As Jared approached Kathleen’s desk, Kathleen said, “You better call Rafferty – he’s been calling nonstop for the past…” Kathleen’s phone rang. “There he is again.”