Майкл Коннелли - Law of Innocence

Our plan was to stay in for most of the weekend and enjoy each other’s company. No phones, no computers, no intrusions. We did, however, rent a golf cart from the hotel for sorties to restaurants and the grocery store down in the town.

The setup was great but there was something sad for me about the trip. I was feeling depressed and couldn’t shake it. Kendall and I spent time in front of the fireplace talking and reminiscing and planning. And we made love the first two nights and on Sunday morning. But by Monday we had stopped talking about anything that mattered, and I sat most of the day in front of the flat-screen, watching CNN reports on the ongoing impeachment saga as well as the mystery virus in China. The Centers for Disease Control had announced that it was deploying medical staff to LAX to meet flights from Wuhan and check passengers for fever and other symptoms of illness. Those who were determined to be sick would be quarantined.

The news was a diversion. I had made a good show of it, turning my phone off and never pulling it out of the suitcase the whole weekend. But I couldn’t take my mind off other things. The weight of what was ahead and the stakes involved was coming down on me.

I had the premonition that Kendall and I were spending our last days together, that her return to L.A. and our trying to rekindle our romance would ultimately be a failed experiment. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly why this was. But thoughts intruded about Maggie and the meeting at USC that had briefly reunited our lost family. And the kiss. It was amazing to me how something so casual, quick, and unexpected could shake the fragile foundations of the relationship at hand.

30

Tuesday, January 21

When Tuesday dawned with a gray overcast sky and heavy fog cover between the island and the mainland, it somehow seemed appropriate to me.

The dread that had steadily built through the weekend was confirmed shortly after I turned on my phone for the first time in three and a half days. Just as we were about to check out and head to the boat, I got a call from Jennifer Aronson.

“Mickey, where are you?”

“Catalina.”

“What?”

“Kendall and I went for the weekend. I told you. Anyway, we’re about to head back. What’s up?”

“I just got a call from Berg. They want you to turn yourself in. They dropped the current murder charge against you this morning, then got a grand jury indictment for murder with special circumstances—financial gain.”

That meant no bail. I remained silent for a long moment and thought about Drucker going through my Sam Scales files. What did he take? Was there something in my files that had led to this?

Kendall noticed the look on my face and whispered, “What is it?”

I shook my head. I would tell her after the call. At the moment I had to come up with a strategy for dealing with this.

“Okay,” I said. “Call Warfield’s clerk. See if you can get on the calendar in the afternoon. I’ll turn myself in then and there. But we—”

“What?” Kendall shrieked.

I held a hand up to quiet her and continued with Jennifer.

“We ask for a probable-cause hearing on the special-circumstances allegation. This is bullshit.”

“But the grand jury indictment obviates a preliminary hearing. It presumes probable cause.”

“Doesn’t matter. We need to get in front of the judge and convince her that this is a bullshit attempt by the prosecution to tilt the board and reset the game clock.”

“Okay, that’s the angle. Speedy trial. I can work on that. You need to get back here and be ready to argue. I think this is one where you need to address the court.”

“Absolutely. You take probable cause and I’ll take the speedy-trial argument. I’m on my way. Let me know if they’re going to wait till the hearing or try to pick me up ahead of that. I’ve got the ankle monitor, so they can find me if they want to.”

“I’m on it.”

We disconnected and I turned to Kendall.

“We have to go. They’re going to arrest me again.”

“How can they do that?”

“They dropped the original case, then went to the grand jury and got an indictment, and it all starts again.”

“You’re going to jail?”

She put her arms around me and hugged me as though she wouldn’t let them take me away.

“I’m going to do my best to get in front of the judge and argue against it. So we should go.”

The ride on the Catalina Express back to San Pedro was through a thick fog. This time Kendall and I stayed inside the cabin, sipping hot coffee and trying to remain calm. I walked her through the steps Berg had taken in turning me into a wanted man. Untrained in the law, Kendall said it was unfair even if it was a valid legal maneuver. And I couldn’t argue with that. The prosecutor was using completely legal means to subvert a completely legal process.

The crossing was slowed by the thick blanket of fog and it was an hour before I heard and felt the boat’s big engines thrum down as we slowly approached the harbor. I had not heard back from Jennifer and didn’t know if I would be met at the dock by police who had tracked my monitor. I got up and moved to a forward-viewing window. If I was about to be arrested, I needed to prep Kendall on what to do and whom to call.

The fog started to thin as we entered the harbor, and I saw the green span of the Vincent Thomas Bridge appear in the mist. Soon I saw the ferry terminal, but I noticed no sign of law enforcement on the dock. The parking lot where I had left the Lincoln was not in view because of the terminal building. I returned to Kendall and handed her the keys to the Lincoln.

“In case they’re waiting for me,” I said.

“Oh my god, Mickey! Do you think they are?” she said.

“Take it easy. I didn’t see anybody on the dock and that’s where they’d most likely be waiting. It’ll probably be fine, but just in case, you have the keys and can drive back. But before you go anywhere, you call Jennifer and tell her what’s happening. She’ll know what to do. I’m going to text you her contact.”

“Okay.”

“Then call Hayley and tell her too.”

“Okay. I can’t believe they’re doing this.”

She started to cry and I hugged her and assured her that everything would be okay. Privately I wasn’t as certain as I sounded.

We got off the boat and to the Lincoln without being stopped. My phone buzzed as we were getting in the car. It was Jennifer but I didn’t answer. I was paranoid and felt like a sitting duck. I wanted to get out of the parking lot and onto the freeway. A moving target was always harder to get a bead on.

Once we were on the 110 going north, I called Jennifer back.

“We’re on the calendar for three o’clock.”

“Good. And they aren’t going to try to grab me in the meantime?”

“That’s what Berg told the judge. You’ll be allowed to surrender in her courtroom following a hearing at three.”

“Did Berg object to the hearing?”

“I don’t know, but probably. But Warfield’s clerk tipped me that the judge is a bit upset about this—about the bail part, since she set bail and now the D.A.’s trying to take it away. So we’ll have that going for us when we go in.”

“Good. When and where do you want to meet beforehand?”

“I need time to work on points for your argument. How about one? We could meet in the cafeteria at the courthouse.”

I checked the dashboard clock. It was already ten thirty.

“One is good but not the courthouse. Too many badges around there, and somebody might try to be a hero and hook me up. Let’s not get to the courthouse till it’s time for the hearing.”

“Got it. Where, then?”