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  Twisted Justice

  Daniel Pike Legal Thriller Series, Volume 4

  WILLIAM BERNHARDT

  Published by Babylon Books, 2020.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  TWISTED JUSTICE

  First edition. April 28, 2020.

  Copyright © 2020 WILLIAM BERNHARDT.

  ISBN: 978-1948263597

  Written by WILLIAM BERNHARDT.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Praise for William Bernhardt and the Daniel Pike Novels

  Foreword

  The Logic of Sacrifice

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  The Calculus of Death

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Venus Ascendant

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Preview of Judge and Jury

  Dan’s Recipes

  About the Author

  Also by William Bernhardt

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  Also By WILLIAM BERNHARDT

  For my WriterCon partners:

  Rene, Melanie, Laurel, Chris, Cheri, and Christy

  Praise for William Bernhardt and the Daniel Pike Novels

  “Twisted Justice has the most mind-blowing twists of any thriller I’ve ever read. And everything works.”

  Rick Ludwig, author of Pele’s Fire

  “I could not put Trial by Blood down. The plot is riveting—with a surprise after the ending, when I thought it was all over....This book is special.”

  Nikki Hanna, author of Capture Life

  “Court of Killers is a wonderful second book in the Daniel Pike legal thriller series....[A] top-notch, suspenseful crime thriller.”

  Timothy Hoover

  “Once started, it is hard to let [The Last Chance Lawyer] go, since the characters are inviting, engaging and complicated....You will enjoy it.”

  Chicago Daily Law Bulletin

  “Bernhardt is the undisputed master of the courtroom drama."

  Library Journal

  Copyright © 2020 by William Bernhardt

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For my WriterCon partners:

  Rene, Melanie, Laurel, Chris, Cheri, and Christy

  Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

  Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

  The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

  The ceremony of innocence is drowned...

  “The Second Coming,” W. B. Yeats

  Foreword

  Chapter 1 is a flash-forward. Chapter 2 takes place several weeks earlier, and from that point on the story is told in chronological order. If Chapter 1 appeared in chronological order, it would come between chapters 36 and 37.

  For the benefit of those who have not read Trial by Blood, a small portion of the Epilogue from that novel is repeated here in Chapter 2.

  The Logic of Sacrifice

  Chapter 1

  Elena emerged from the water an inch at a time, first the top of her head, then her forehead, her face, her neck. She moved slowly, clinging to the ocean bed as if walking underwater came naturally, as if she were a mermaid who had suddenly discovered her legs. Her shoulders rose above the water line, then her arms, her breasts. She imagined herself as Botticelli’s Venus emerging from a watery half-shell, hair slicked back, body on display for all to see.

  “Mama, look! That lady isn’t wearing anything!”

  “Where did she come from?” another voice asked. “I’ve been on this beach all day.”

  “She’s hurt! Someone do something!”

  Elena heard the cries echo in the clouded reaches of her mind, but the meaning of the words did not register. She had been damaged and she had traveled so far, so fast. Each step was a struggle. She moved like a relentless sea nymph with nothing to hide, no cause for shame, each step a triumph only she understood. The sand oozed between her toes, slowing her, but the sun felt so warm on her body that she almost wanted to cry.

  “Hey, kid! You need some help?”

  For the briefest of moments, she allowed her gaze to drift. She was bruised and blood-blemished, on her arms, on her left thigh, on the side of her face. Venus should be immaculate, not battered and beaten. Barely alive. How much had she lost? How much more could she lose?

  Someone ran beside her, a young man, a little older than she was. Bearded, bloated, hardly Michelangelo’s David, but bearing a concerned expression. “You want my towel?”

  She tilted her head slightly. Why would she want his towel? The sunshine was a delightful change, after so many days of darkness.

  “You know. To cover yourself.”

  Her gaze intensified. A small crease formed between her eyebrows.

  “Um, maybe you don’t know, but...you lost your suit. And I think someone already called the cops.”

  Her suit? Did he mean her rags? Her slave clothes? She was glad to be rid of them.

  “You should probably see a doctor, too. You’re banged up pretty bad.”

  A doctor. A doctor. She thought she knew what he meant. Her brain was still muddy, like the sand beneath her feet. But she couldn’t allow that. She couldn’t bear to be trapped, confined, not again. She fought so hard to be free. Better to bleed to death than be a prisoner.

  “Look, I don’t mean to be pushy, but I know a guy. I could get you in to see him. And then maybe we could get you some clothes and a hot cup of coffee. You’ll feel better in—”

  She ran. Bolted away with all the speed she could muster.

  She kept running until she reached a brown dirty strip surrounded by tall trees. Two more seconds and she found a sidewalk. A second after that, a street.

  Cars zigzagged across her field of vision. She barely recognized them. It had been so long. But she had to make it across. She had to flee.

  She darted into the street. Horns blared. Brakes squealed. She heard shouting in a tongue she did not understand. Keep moving, she told herself. Don’t let them capture you.

  Water flew off her hair and skin as she increased her speed. She heard a whistle somewhere behind her. “Stop! Hey, stop!”

  No, no, no, no, no. She could not let it happen to her, not again. She would not be someone else’s tool. She had to be free.

  “Please
stop! You’re hurt!”

  She knew she was injured, but she also knew she would get better. If only they would leave her alone. She looked around desperately, trying to find someplace to hide. Shops, restaurants, bicycles, boats. She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know where she would be safe.

  She heard rapid footsteps gaining on her. She crashed into people, trying to move faster. She hit a large woman full on, knocking her to the pavement. The woman shouted. Suddenly everyone was looking at her. Suddenly there was nowhere to run.

  Someone tackled her from behind. She fell hard. Her bare knees scraped against the concrete. Blood rose to the surface.

  “Miss, I’m taking you into custody for your own safety. Do you know where you are?”

  He whipped her body around to face him. He wore a uniform. Glittering pieces of metal. She tried to struggle. He grabbed her fists and forced them down, pinning them between her breasts.

  “I’m sorry, miss. You’re not leaving me any choice.”

  A second later, he snapped cuffs around her wrists.

  She screamed. It was a loud, keening scream, like something a banshee might release. Piercing and penetrating, sharing her pain with everyone who heard it.

  A large crowd gathered around them. “Kid, please. I’m trying to help you. Are your parents around here?”

  She did not answer. She did not know what to say.

  “Do you have anyone? Anyone we could call?”

  She tried to remember, tried to bring back the shattered remnants of what came before. But it was so hard. And part of her didn’t want to remember.

  “Can you at least tell me who you are?”

  Something triggered inside her head. “I am the wave that aches for the shore. I am the fire that never burns cold. I am the lover who can never be kissed.”

  Holding her beneath the arms, the man raised her to her feet. Between the gash in her side and the bruises on her knees, she could barely stand. “Sure, whatever. But can you give me a name?”

  “Izzy. Izzy?” She shrieked, and all the strength went out of her. Her legs buckled. But for the man holding her, she would’ve crumpled to the pavement. “Please...don’t let them take me back.” Her eyes closed and she could feel her consciousness fading.

  “Save the others,” she mumbled, her last words before the sleep came. “Before it’s too late.”

  Chapter 2

  Many Weeks Before

  Dan rolled over, but the bed on his boat was so small that moving even slightly put him halfway on top of Camila. “What’s that racket?”

  She blew hair out of her face. “Someone is at your front door. If you can call it that.”

  He immediately tensed.

  “Relax, Dan. Murderous thugs don’t knock.”

  Sound point. And they would’ve come in the dark. The sun was already rising.

  Camila touched his shoulder. “Probably a client who needs the city’s most famous defense lawyer and can’t wait for business hours.”

  “Maybe. Still weird.” He grabbed a robe. “I’ll see who it is.”

  “Right behind you.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Just in case you need a martial-arts mayor to take them out.”

  A minute later he was topside. He opened the outer door of the boat. Camila stood behind him, covering herself with a sheet.

  Detective Kakazu waited outside.

  “Jake? Kind of early. What’s going on?”

  He glanced at the two officers standing behind Kakazu, Sergeant Enriquez and a cop he didn’t know. “I’m surprised you were sleeping,” Kakazu said. “We’ve been awake all night.”

  “That doesn’t explain why you’re bothering us. Look, if this is some crap Belasco put you up to, forget it. Leave me alone.”

  The officers looked at one another.

  Kakazu drew in his breath. “It does involve Belasco. In a way. He’s dead.”

  His lips parted. “The district attorney? Dead? When? How?”

  “We’re only beginning to unpack the details...”

  Camila pushed forward. “This is an outrage. I don’t know what you’re doing, detective, but it should have gone through the mayor’s office first.”

  “That wasn’t possible in this case, ma’am.”

  “And why not?”

  “You couldn’t be objective about your...paramour. And this involves you, too. Directly.”

  “Stop talking in riddles and tell me what you’re babbling about.”

  The men glanced at one another. Kakazu shrugged. “You’re going to find out soon enough. We received a recorded conversation by anonymous email. We’ve already checked to make sure it’s authentic and hasn’t been altered. Our experts say it’s legit.”

  “Get to the point. What is it?”

  Kakazu pulled out his phone and played a recording.

  It didn’t take long before Dan realized he was listening to his own voice. His and Camila’s.

  “There are ways we could deal with the district attorney.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We could have him taken care of.”

  “Just off him?”

  “If he’s on Sweeney’s payroll, he deserves to be offed.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “For you, I would do anything.”

  “Likewise.”

  Kakazu withdrew a folded piece of paper and slapped it into Dan’s hand. “This is a warrant. Pursuant to the authority of the St. Petersburg Police Department and Pinellas County, you’re both under arrest. For the murder of District Attorney George Belasco.”

  * * *

  Dan stared through the Plexiglas screen in the visitation room, as angry as he had ever been in his entire life. And he had been plenty angry on several occasions. He’d spent years making his rep as one of the best defense lawyers in the city, maybe the state. He’d built a sizeable bank account and a life that, on the whole, was a source of pride. He’d dedicated his life to protecting the innocent, making sure his clients weren’t railroaded by the government.

  Who was riding that railroad now? He’d acquired few details since his arrest, but he knew one thing for certain. Someone wanted him out of the way. He was on the express train to the death penalty.

  He didn’t like to admit it—but he was scared. He’d had people out to get him before, but never anything like this. He hadn’t slept since they locked him up. His hands trembled and he didn’t know what to do about it. The fluttering sensation inside his chest would not stop.

  He’d peered through this Plexiglas screen before, but always from the other side. This was a completely different experience. His keen observational powers and his courtroom bag of tricks weren’t helping. Normally, he had a gift for noticing what others did not, for making careful observations that later, once he connected the dots, brought unexpected insights. Sometimes those insights broke the case.

  But that worked better in the courtroom than behind bars. All he could see at the moment was that, like him, his visitor was extremely angry.

  His partner, Maria Morales, sat on the other side of the screen. She’d claimed to be his lawyer so she could get in. Long black hair. Barely any makeup. Earrings that matched the studs on her designer jeans.

  He leaned forward on his elbows so she wouldn’t detect the trembling. “Go ahead,” Dan said into the antiquated phone receiver that allowed them to communicate. “Say it.”

  Maria pursed her lips. “Orange is not your color.”

  He smiled thinly. “Any legal advice?”

  “You’re in a truckload of trouble.”

  “Thank you, Clarence Darrow.” He had another comment, but he suppressed it. He knew this comedy was a mask. Maria was worried about him.

  She brushed her hair behind her shoulders. “How many times have I told you to dial it down? How many times have I suggested that you stop pissing off every authority figure you meet?”

  “You think this is law enforcement exactin
g its revenge?”

  “I don’t know where it started. But when the opportunity arose, they pounced on you like salivating dogs.”

  “You think this is my fault.”

  “I don’t know enough about it yet to assign fault.” She frowned. “But yes.”

  Maria was younger than he was, but he valued her opinion, even when she was telling him something he didn’t want to hear. She was the one who first recruited him into the law firm, an association of four lawyers led by a mysterious figure they knew as Mr. K. He gave them assignments and paid them generously for their services.

  He wondered what K would think of this development. A murder warrant could double as his discharge papers from the Last Chance Lawyers.

  “What happened to Belasco?”

  “I don’t know much. I know he was shot. Six times.”

  “Overkill.”

  “You’d think. Or a sign that someone seriously did not want him making a miraculous recovery.” She glanced at her notes. “His body was found in an alley behind Beachcombers.”

  “A bar I frequent. Near the boat where I live.”

  “Exactly.”

  “It’s a frame. Have you heard the recording?”

  “Everyone has. Someone leaked it to the internet.”

  “It’s a total misconstruction. We were kidding around.”

  “Doesn’t sound like it.”

  “Camila was joking. Like, why don’t we solve all our problems by eliminating the bad guy? She was being playful. We had just...just...”

  “Oh ick. I don’t want to hear about it.”

  “But you know. We were in one of those moods.”

  “So you said something incredibly stupid that’s going to hang you.”

  “I didn’t know we were being recorded.”

  “Who do you think planted the bug?”

  “No idea. But I know who the obvious suspect is.”

  “Sweeney.”

  “Bingo.” Conrad Sweeney was the richest, most successful, and most prominent man in St. Petersburg. He was a power-hungry power broker who liked to think he controlled the secret machinery that made the town tick. They had crossed paths on numerous occasions. After Dan thwarted Sweeney’s plans to derail Camila’s political career and uncovered the truth about the Coleman clan, Sweeney went on a rampage. He had expected trouble. But he didn’t expect it to come this fast. Or this hard.