Without Justice Page 3

  A few hours later, Emily ditched another barely touched glass of champagne, and joined the crowd gathered around the large screen television. The anchor for the local news had announced before the break they were ready to call the race. For the first time since she’d arrived, the room got quiet and she felt everyone glancing between the screen and her like they wanted to be the first to catch her reaction when the news came down. Fine by her. She schooled her expression into a thoughtful gaze and, as the commercial ended and the show began, she hoped no one could tell she was holding her breath.

  Chapter Three

  A traffic snarl outside of Dallas delayed Cade and Kennedy’s arrival into Bodark. Since they were too late to pick up the keys to Cade’s new home, Kennedy found the only hotel in the city limits and drove around the parking lot for ten minutes before she finally found a space.

  “Looks pretty busy,” Cade said. “You sure they’ll have a room?”

  Kennedy opened her door. “Only one way to find out.”

  Cade followed Kennedy into the hotel to stretch her legs and waited off to the side while Kennedy approached the front desk to ask if there were any vacancies. The reception area wasn’t crowded, but loud noises billowed from a ballroom a few feet from where Cade was standing, and she stepped closer to take a look. Red, white, and blue balloons formed an arch at the front of the room, and a large sign behind the stage read Sinclair for District Attorney, A New Era.

  Election night. Cade had been so consumed with everything happening in her own life, she’d completely forgotten about mid-term elections. Not like she could vote anyway, since the only name she was registered under no longer existed. She looked at her watch. Seven p.m. The polls had just closed, and this hotel was probably about to get a lot busier. She glanced over at Kennedy who was still standing at the front desk, wearing a defeated expression. She was about to join her, until her eyes fixed on a woman entering the hotel, walking toward her. Cade was instantly captivated.

  The woman strode closer, her gait confident, her deep brown eyes sweeping the room. Beads of water pooled over the surface of her raincoat, but her lush, auburn hair had been spared a drenching, and it flounced as she walked—jaunty, flirty. The woman stopped and handed her coat to a bellman, discreetly sliding a tip in his hand as he took the dripping coat. She smoothed her hands along the lines of her well tailored, but distinctly feminine suit, and took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. A second later, another woman joined her, and Cade watched their easy conversation and marveled at the way the first woman’s expression morphed from slightly hesitant to confident before she plunged into the crowded ballroom. As she disappeared from sight, Cade memorized every detail about this stranger, from her silky, auburn hair, to her well-toned legs, until Kennedy’s voice broke her trance.

  “They don’t have any rooms.”

  “What?”

  “Rooms. They don’t have any. We’ll have to find someplace else.”

  Cade was still thinking about the woman from the hotel when they pulled up in front of the tiny motel just outside the city limits. This place looked like something out of a fifties movie, complete with a flashing neon sign and a giant ice machine parked outside of the office. She doubted it had more than ten rooms. Kennedy pulled her Jeep into one of the many empty parking spots and killed the engine.

  “How small did you say this town was?”

  “You’re not in the sticks.” Kennedy’s tone was a tad defensive.

  “Well, it’s not Chicago, or even Dallas for that matter.”

  “It may be small, but it’s a pretty progressive place.”

  “That sounds like code for something.”

  “It is—liberal. There’s a college campus nearby. All those young minds wreak havoc on conservative small town values. Plus, they draw a diverse crowd. They’ll probably barely notice your lack of a proper southern accent.”

  Kennedy grinned as she spoke, and Cade realized it was the first time she’d seen her smile. Kennedy had been intensely focused since the moment they met—a trait Cade considered priceless for someone assigned to keep her alive, but now that she’d seen her smile, she hoped the time had come for them both to relax a bit. “So, you think I’ll be safe here?”

  “You’ll be safe if you follow the rules. No one has ever—”

  Cade held up a hand. She’d heard the mantra too many times over the past two months. “I know. You’ve never lost a witness who followed the rules.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  Cade nodded. She knew it was true, but she also knew there was a first time for everything. It didn’t matter either way, since she wouldn’t have changed any of her actions even if the stats weren’t in her favor. The testimony she’d given and her continued cooperation amounted to more than duty; they were steps toward fulfilling her personal oath of revenge for the life that had been taken from her, and no price was too great to pay to exact her vengeance. “Tell me the plan.”

  “We’ll check in here for the night, and tomorrow we’ll pick up the keys and meet the movers at your new place.” Kennedy said. “Once you’ve moved in, I’ll be on my way. I’ll know more about the job situation in a few days, but I have a lead on a position at the campus library.”

  “Doing what exactly?”

  “I don’t know. Library things.” Again with the smile. “I’m kidding. The position is for a reference librarian. You’ll help people do research and stuff like that.”

  Cade sighed. The possibility of practicing law again had been a long shot, but she’d been holding on to hope it might still be possible. With the hope gone, she felt deflated.

  She waited in the car while Kennedy checked them in, and she spent the time alternating between glancing around to make sure no one snuck up on her, and plotting her own escape. She could jump out of the car and run toward the woods that lined the back of the motel property. She had a complete set of legal documents all in her new name. She could start fresh, make her own decisions about what to do and where to live, out from under the thumb of government intrusion. Protection be damned.

  We’ve never lost a witness who followed the rules.

  The words echoed in her head. She’d walked away from everything. If she died doing it, then the sacrifice meant nothing. She’d spent months dreading this phase, but it was time to embrace this new life and try to make the most of it.

  Kennedy rapped on the window, and Cade climbed out of the car and followed her to the unit closest to the office. The room was not at all what she expected. Cozy touches like a quilt on the bed mixed with modern ones like a flat screen TV.

  “See, it’s not so bad,” Kennedy said.

  Cade grunted her agreement. “It’s actually kinda nice.” She gestured to the lone bed in the room, a double. “Where are you sleeping?”

  “I have the room next door. They’re connected, but don’t worry, I’ll stay on my side unless you need me.” She smiled. “It’s the first step in letting go. After tomorrow, you’ll be on your own until the agents in Chicago make an arrest, and I need to coordinate your travel for trial.”

  On her own. Cade wasn’t entirely certain what it would be like to go about her life without having an armed guard within a few feet at all times, but she had a feeling she was going to like it. She pushed the comment about returning to Chicago to the back of her mind.

  “Of course, after you’re settled in with the new job, I’ll check on you from time to time, and you’ll have my contact information if you need anything.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She wasn’t entirely sure, but she planned to fake it until she was certain. In the meantime, she wanted to get some rest. The drive from Dallas had sucked the life out of her, and tomorrow would be a long day of moving into her new house and getting her bearings in this small town.

  Kennedy locked her in and left to go find dinner. Cade flopped onto the bed and flipped through the TV channels, settling on the local news intending to get a feel for her new hometown. The l
ine at the bottom of the screen scrolled election results while the middle-aged, red-haired newscaster promised they would have an exclusive interview with the woman who’d just made history in Lawson County. The newscaster was standing in a hotel ballroom that Cade recognized as the one at the Bodark Inn.

  Aside from her near encounter with the intriguing woman in the lobby there, she was relieved to be in this smaller, cozier motel. She actually liked the homey feel of this place over what she imagined the larger, fancier hotel would have to offer. She traced the outline of the pattern on the quilt that served as her bedspread and wondered if the owner of this little motel had made it herself. Or maybe a family member. Part of her warmed to the idea that her hosts would share their heritage with her, but another part said she was romanticizing this entire episode of her life in order to cope with reality. Before she could decide which was more likely, the redhead on TV reappeared with the woman from the hotel by her side. Cade stared at the screen, drinking in every detail. She could tell from the way the woman’s eyes lit up as she was introduced that she was excited.

  “I’m reporting live from the ballroom at the Bodark Inn, and joining me is Emily Sinclair, the newly-elected district attorney of Lawson County. Congratulations, Ms. Sinclair.”

  Emily flashed a big smile. “Thanks, Sophie. I’m honored the citizens of Lawson County have put their confidence in me, and I promise I will serve them well.”

  “You’ve actually already been doing that as a career prosecutor in the DA’s office, but what changes do you envision now that you’ll be running the office?”

  “Well, I’m going to start by fulfilling the promises I made in this campaign. Number one—I will root out special interest influence in the way cases are prosecuted in this county. By electing me, the voters have made it clear they’re inviting in a new era.”

  “That’s true in more ways than one. You’re the first woman to be elected to this office. Will that fact influence the work you plan to do?”

  “Gender shouldn’t play into politics. I don’t think I was elected because I’m a woman or in spite of it. With all due respect to my opponent, Mr. Bradshaw, I have more experience as a prosecutor, and I have a solid vision for the future of this office. I’d like to think those are the reasons the voters decided to cast their lot with me. I will make them proud.”

  “She’s good,” Cade muttered. District attorney. She assumed the DA was the same thing as a state’s attorney, which was what they called the position in Illinois. District attorney was a funny name since the top prosecutor in each county represented the state, not just their district, but she’d be willing to bet different names wouldn’t be the only thing peculiar to Texas.

  Emily Sinclair looked feisty despite her petite size. Cade imagined she used her short stature to her benefit, luring opposing counsel into thinking she was just a pretty, petite girl so she could knock them out with her legal acumen, while she swayed juries with her charm.

  You’re letting your imagination run wild. You don’t have a clue whether she’s smart at all. But if she was, she was probably a force with all the right weapons at her disposal—beauty, brains, and a killer smile. Cade had gone up against lawyers like Emily many times in the past, and she’d won her fair share. While she watched the rest of the interview, her mind wandered, and she wondered if there was much crime in this county worth prosecuting. With a college nearby, they probably had their fair share of drunk and disorderlies, but nothing like the serious cases she’d seen at home.

  Home. This was home now, and she would never argue cases in a courtroom again. Emily Sinclair, the gorgeous new DA, would fight whatever crime there was in this small, quiet county, and Cade would probably read an occasional article in the paper or hear a story on the radio about it, but the happenings in that hotel ballroom across town had no bearing on her life. A new era indeed.

  Chapter Four

  February

  “Can we get some help?”

  Cade whirled at the sound of the gruff male voice and simultaneously tried to assess the risk and plan an escape route. Two skinny white guys stood in front of her. Both were dressed in worn jeans, one wore a plaid flannel shirt over a well-worn Jordan College T-shirt and the other sported the ubiquitous hoodie. Students. Had to be, but just in case, she made a mental note of the exit door about twenty feet to the left of the circulation desk.

  “So, like do you work here or not?” Plaid Flannel asked.

  Cade bit back a smartass remark and answered simply, “Yes. What do you need?”

  “I need a book about Walt Whitman. Maybe like a biography or something.”

  Like this, like that. Cade felt like asking him if he like knew how to like type a couple of words into one of the dozen or so computers a few feet away. Instead she punched out her own search on the keyboard in front of her and printed out a list of books. “This should get you started. The biographies are located downstairs and to the right. There should be someone else on staff down there if you have trouble finding any of these titles.” She watched them shuffle off, certain they were about to plagiarize the hell out of the books she’d sent them to find, if they found them at all.

  She was torn between caring too little and too much. This wasn’t the work she would have chosen, but it was her life now. Kennedy had gotten her this gig as one of the staff librarians at the college library, and keeping it was part of her cover. In a small town like Bodark, there weren’t a lot of choices, and the transient nature of a college campus caused her to stick out less than she would if she worked at one of the small businesses in town.

  She spent the next hour helping several students who actually seemed to care about the research they were doing. One was looking up data for a paper she was writing for her criminal justice class, and Cade had to work hard not to spice up her assistance with personal anecdotes. Everywhere she turned, she had to hide pieces of herself, lying by omission.

  When she returned to the circulation desk, Monica Daley, her boss, was waiting. “I thought I’d relieve you while you take a dinner break.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not hungry.”

  Monica waved her arm toward the front door. “Take a walk, knit a sweater, or heaven forbid read a book, but I’m making the break mandatory. You’re making the rest of us look bad.”

  Monica delivered the words with a smile, but she was probably only half kidding. Since she’d started working at the college library after the winter break, Cade had made a habit of working straight through her shift. Breaks were for people who liked to socialize, share a meal with others, but hanging out with people posed complications she wasn’t prepared to address. Better she stayed focused on work while she was at work, and when she wasn’t at work…Well, she hadn’t figured out what to do with herself in her free time. Between shifts, she generally sat in her Spartan house reading books she’d checked out from the library. She had yet to venture out into the small town where Kennedy had left her to waste away.

  She’d managed okay so far. The good thing about small towns was they were kind of a throwback. She’d been able to set up an account at the local grocery, and a kid on a bike delivered a couple of sacks of basics once a week, right to her door. He kept a regular schedule, so she always managed to be waiting at the front door when he arrived. A quick crack of the door, a fistful of money, and a hasty “keep the change” was the only interaction they shared. She’d considered telling the store to have the kid leave the groceries on the front step, but Kennedy had warned her that acting too much like a recluse could be more conspicuous than showing her face all over town. Monica’s nagging seemed to indicate Kennedy had a point. “I really want to finish up this research database for Professor Lyon before I leave tonight, but I swear I’ll take a real break tomorrow. Maybe I’ll even go off campus.”

  Monica feigned a look of horror followed by a grin. “Now, don’t go all crazy on us.”

  “Any suggestions?”

  “There are a few good restaurants on
the square. One of them is run by a pretty prominent Dallas chef who decided to give small town living a go. It’s called Ambrosia. A little swank, but totally worth it. If you’re looking for someplace casual, try The Purple Leaf Cafe—best roast beef sandwich you’ve ever had. You should try it. Let me know if you want company.”

  Cade did her best not to flinch at the suggestion. Monica was nice enough, but if she was going to socialize with anyone, it wasn’t going to be someone from work. She had a good thing going here. The library job was vastly different from her previous career as a trial attorney, but it provided her with security and solitude. If she started making friends here, they would start asking questions, the kind that seemed normal to most folks. Where did you grow up? Do you have family? Where did you move here from?

  She had answers for all of those, but every last one was fiction, and she’d rather not engage than start telling a string of lies. Better to keep work and personal life separate so she wouldn’t have to choose between them if the level of deceit became too uncomfortable.

  But maybe it was time to start checking out the town that was her new home. She made a mental note of the places Monica mentioned and decided she’d take a walk on the square after work tonight. If this small town was like most others, nothing would be open and she’d be free to explore without fear of running into anyone.

  In Chicago, she’d had a fairly large circle of friends. They shared birthdays, anniversaries, dinners, and outings. When she felt like going out, a pal was a phone call or text away. Now the only contact in her phone was a code name with a number for Inspector Kennedy Stone. Her life had changed radically, but nothing surprised her more than how quickly she’d adjusted to the change. Maybe she could make this work.

  *

  “Are you joining us for dinner or are you going to work late again?”

  Emily looked up at her first assistant, Seth London, who was standing in her office doorway, and shook her head. She’d become used to the question, but the answer never changed. She might be in charge of a small town DA’s office, but the level of work that had gone unattended during the previous administration was staggering. Files were in complete disarray, reports due to the county commissioners were months behind, and she had a stack of complaints from local defense attorneys about discovery they’d requested but never received. It appeared that her predecessor had retired just in time, but now she was stuck with his mess.