Майкл Коннелли - Law of Innocence

“So, where are we on everything else?” I asked.

“Opparizio,” Maggie said. “He knows something is up and left town yesterday. By car. Cisco had his guys on him.”

“Don’t tell me he left the state. Vegas?”

“No, he probably thought he’d be tracked there easy. He drove to Arizona. Scottsdale. He checked into a resort out there called the Phoenician. Cisco will go out tomorrow and hit him with the subpoena.”

“What if he knows that he doesn’t need to respond to a subpoena from another state? It’s probably the reason he left.”

“Something tells me he doesn’t and he left town because he was feeling the heat. He’s gotta know there’s a trial in the murder he’s responsible for. Best to get out of town till it’s over. Anyway, Cisco said they’ll video the whole thing, make it an airtight service looking totally legit. The question is, what day do you want him here?”

We had to think about that. We had Dana Berg’s witness list and from that could extrapolate how long her case might take to put before the jury. We had already delayed things Friday with Drucker, but before that, the prosecutor had been stringing out his testimony in an attempt to run it up to the weekend. Berg would likely shift strategy now and move more quickly with him, trying to build momentum. She then had a deputy coroner on her wit list, the lead crime scene investigator, and then a few ancillary witnesses to follow.

“I’m thinking Dana has two days left at the max,” I said.

“I’m thinking the same,” Maggie said. “So we go with Opparizio on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, Wednesday. Good. Means I’ll be telling my side of this in less than seventy-two hours. Can’t wait.”

“Me neither.”

“And our other witnesses are set?”

“They’re all good to go. I have the retired EPA guy—Art Schultz—flying in Wednesday morning. The rest are all local. So we should have everybody on hand, and you can put them on in whatever order we decide works best.”

“Perfect.”

“Depending on what we get on the phone records, you can slip Milton in anywhere or make him the grand finale. Have Moira from the bar and then him as a one-two punch at the end.”

I nodded. It was good to set up witnesses so that we could handle any surprises or no-shows. Nothing would annoy Warfield or any judge more than having the jury ready but no witnesses to present to them. We needed to avoid that at all costs.

“What’s our contingency if Opparizio doesn’t come back or sends a lawyer to quash?” I asked.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Maggie said. “We could go to Warfield for a bench warrant. That’ll work across state lines. We’ll just have to get the locals out there to scoop him up.”

“That could delay things for days.”

“That’s why we play to Warfield. No one wants this trial over with more than you. But she’s second on that list, and we’ll make her see that she’s got to use her power to bring Opparizio in. He’s the centerpiece of the defense case. This could be reversed if we don’t get the opportunity to put him on the stand.”

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

There was a pause in the conversation and then I pointed it down another difficult track.

“What about the FBI?” I asked. “Have we given up on that?”

“No, not yet,” Maggie said. “I’ve talked to some people over there—sneaking into my office and using the phone. It helps to have the D.A.’s Office come up on their caller ID—they actually take the calls. I’m just trying to get an off-the-record sit-down with Agent Ruth.”

“That’s a long shot.”

“I know but I think if I can just talk to her, I can work something out. I know she’ll never get permission to testify, but if she would agree to just come and sit in court when it’s our turn to tell the story, we might win her over.”

“To do what, testify without the bureau’s permission?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“That would be fantastic. But no way.”

“You never know. She’s already helped you once. Maybe she’ll do it again. We just need to find a way for her to do it. I think she might come to court anyway to see what comes out about Opparizio and BioGreen.”

“Well, send her an embossed invitation. We’ll save her a front-row seat. But I think it’ll be a seat that doesn’t get used.”

It appeared we had covered everything. The week ahead would determine the future of my life. I felt confident in Maggie and myself and our case. But the dread was still there. It never went away. Anything could happen in court.

Maggie picked up her mask and started looping the straps behind her ears. Even with the elastic the loops were too tight and pulled her ears slightly forward. In that moment I saw our daughter when she was younger and her ears were one of her most pronounced features.

“What?” Maggie asked.

“What?” I said.

“What are you smiling at?”

“Oh, nothing. Your mask sort of pulls your ears out. It reminded me of Hay. Remember when we used to say she had to grow into her ears?”

“I do. And she did.”

I nodded at the memory and watched Maggie cover her smile.

“So,” I said. “Who are you dating these days?”

“Uh, that’s none of your business,” she said.

“True. But I want to ask you out. I don’t want it to be a problem.”

“Really? Why? Ask me out where?”

“Next Sunday—one week from tonight. We go out and celebrate the big NG. I’ll take you to Mozza.”

“You’re certainly confident.”

“I have to be. It’s the only way to go. You in or out?”

“What about Hayley?”

“Hayley too. The whole firm—Haller, Haller, and McFierce, bringing new meaning to family law.”

Maggie laughed.

“Okay, you’re on.”

She gathered the paperwork and got up. She knocked on the steel door and then turned back to me.

“Stay safe, Mickey.”

“That’s the plan. You, too.”

The door was opened by a deputy, this one without a mask, and I watched her go. I realized after the door closed that I was falling in love again with Maggie McFierce.

43

Monday, February 24

I was already in place at the defense table when Maggie arrived. She dropped a folded Metro section from the Times in front of me as she pulled her chair out.

“I take it you haven’t seen the paper,” she said.

“Nope,” I said. “I asked that it be delivered with my breakfast every morning but it never comes.”

She tapped her finger on a story at the bottom corner of the page. The headline said it all: “Sheriff: Inmate Acted Alone in Assault on ‘Lincoln Lawyer.’ ”

I started scanning the story but Maggie summarized it as I read.

“They say that Mason Maddox acted completely on his own when he attempted to kill you. No one put him up to it and the Sheriff’s Department comes out squeaky clean, even though it was the sheriff’s office that handled the investigation.”

I stopped reading and tossed the paper onto the table.

“Bullshit,” I said. “Then why’d he do it?”

“That story says he told investigators he mistook you for another inmate he had a grudge against,” Maggie said.

“Yeah, well, like I said—”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m still going to sue their asses when I get out of here.”

“That’s the spirit.”

The conclusion of the investigation was not surprising but it made me feel more vulnerable. If the attack by Maddox had been orchestrated as payback by deputies in the jail, there was nothing to stop them from trying again. The first effort had been white-washed—so would be the second.