Court of Killers Read online

  Porter hesitated a moment. “Both.”

  “What do you like to hunt for?”

  “Ducks. Deer, when they’re in season. Usually whitetails.”

  “Anything else?”

  “That’s about it.”

  “You’re sure.”

  A frown line appeared between the officer’s eyes. “Yes. I’m sure.”

  “What about this guy?” With a dramatic flourish, he pivoted, grabbed the remote control, and activated the video screen...revealing an enlarged, grainy photograph of a hairy humanoid figure, apparently out in the woods. “Ever seen him?”

  The witness squinted. “Is that...Bigfoot?”

  “Sasquatch to his friends. Ever seen him?”

  Jazlyn shot to her feet. “Your honor, this is outrageous. I give Mr. Pike some latitude—and you see what happens. His legendary courtroom shenanigans have no place in this trial.”

  Judge Petersen looked angry. “Can you explain yourself, counsel?”

  “I’m just inquiring into what inspires the witness to pull his gun.”

  “Surely you’re not suggesting—”

  “If I’m wrong, your honor, the witness need merely say so. But I have a duty to ask.”

  “Do you? Do you really?”

  “Really.”

  The judge raised a finger. “One minute. I want to see this going somewhere relevant in one minute.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He stepped closer to the witness. “You believe in Bigfoot, don’t you?”

  “I...try to keep an open mind about things.”

  “That’s very evolved of you. But there’s no convincing evidence that Bigfoot exists, is there?”

  “Wild animals don’t usually mug for photos.”

  “But still you believe.”

  “There’s a lot of evidence. Abandoned campfires. Carrion. Nests.”

  “If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it—it must be Bigfoot.”

  “It’s worth investigating.”

  “You realize science says this is a myth.”

  “They laughed at Columbus, too.”

  “You’ve gone hunting for Bigfoot on more than one occasion, haven’t you?”

  “I...may have done.” Behind him, he saw Jazlyn’s head drop.

  “And you’ve shot at the big guy a few times, too, haven’t you?” He bounced back to the defendant’s table and withdrew a police report from his backpack. He preferred backpack to briefcase—easier to travel fast, less strain on the shoulders. “Like on October 21 of last year in a field not far from Tallahassee. Would you tell everyone about that incident, please?”

  Jazlyn rose. “Your honor, I don’t see the relevance.”

  This time, the judge waved her down. “No, I want to hear this.”

  Officer Porter spoke slowly and carefully. “I was hunting and I...erroneously fired my weapon.”

  “Or to put it differently, you nearly drilled an innocent bystander.” He offered the document into evidence. “According to the police report, your bullet came within a foot of hitting a long-haired, bearded Nature Conservancy intern who was collecting deer scat. And in explanation, you told the police that you thought he was Bigfoot. And apparently, any time you think you see Bigfoot, you shoot at it.”

  Officer Porter frowned. “He should’ve worn reflective clothing.”

  “So he wouldn’t be mistaken for Bigfoot?”

  “If he’d worn bright orange, there wouldn’t have been a problem.”

  “But if he’s a bearded guy in dark clothing, he might be Bigfoot.”

  “Look, I made a mistake.”

  “And you got a misdemeanor firearms charge that you did not report to your department chief, which is a violation of St. Petersburg PD policy.”

  “It was an honest mistake. And it has nothing to do with my police work.”

  “Are you sure? Because every time I read your report, I asked myself the same question. Why did Office Porter rush into the pool party? Why did he pull his gun? And now I know the answer. Because you thought you saw Bigfoot.”

  Porter’s jaw tightened. The cool demeanor disappeared. “I heard screaming.”

  “And you thought that was unusual? At a pool party? They were having fun.”

  “I thought there was...more.”

  “Like Bigfoot.”

  “No.”

  Time for the finishing stroke. He pulled a photograph out of his backpack, then passed it to the bailiff, who passed it to the witness. He put the pic on the video screen for the jury. “This shot was taken at the pool party shortly after you arrived. One of the college kids took it with his iPhone. I notice the backyard has trees on both sides of the pool. I believe those are American arborvitae, sometime used around here to create a privacy screen. What I thought interesting was...well, with the tall shoots and jutting branches, how much they can look like a big hairy animal.” He pointed. “See, doesn’t that look like a face? Especially if you’re driving fast and don’t look too closely.” He peered at the witness. “That’s the real reason you invaded that pool party, isn’t it? You thought you saw Bigfoot.”

  “I got confused, that’s all.” Porter leaned forward. “Look, someone has to be willing to investigate these things. The government has hidden the truth for decades, about this and a lot of other stuff. Not all knowledge comes from colleges.”

  “Just to be clear, is that what you were doing when you raced into my client’s party? Tracking Bigfoot?”

  Sweat dripped down the side of Porter’s face. He was squirming, apparently having trouble sitting still. “No.”

  “Thank goodness you didn’t see the chupacabra. The kids might all be dead.”

  Jazlyn shot up. “Objection.”

  “Sustained.”

  Porter’s face flushed. He was breathing hard. “I didn’t hurt anyone.”

  “No, luckily, but answer the question. You drew your weapon because you thought you saw Bigfoot, right?”

  “You’re trying to make me sound crazy.”

  “You’re doing that just fine on your own.”

  “My job is to protect people.”

  “So is mine. Answer the question.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “You ran into that party because you zoomed past those trees and thought you saw Bigfoot, so you raced in to take him down. Isn’t that true?”

  “I wouldn’t exactly—”

  “Tell the truth for once, officer.” His voice rose. “Didn’t you run in there to shoot Bigfoot?”

  “Well, wouldn’t you?”

  The sudden outburst reverberated through the courtroom. He let that hang in the air for a long time before he spoke again.

  “Just one more question. Ms. Prentice—would you consider dropping the charges against my client?”

  Chapter 3

  Outside the courtroom, Dan watched his client, Grayson Grant, shiver with excitement.

  “OMG. OMG.” She pressed her hand against her chest. African-American. Nose piercing. Comb in hair. Bright multi-colored sweater. “Thank you, Mr. Pike. I’ve been so worried. I can’t believe you pulled that off.”

  “Even after I told you about his Bigfoot obsession?”

  “Oh, so what? I’ve heard people say weirder stuff than that.”

  “Police officers?”

  “Especially police officers. Maybe a white boy like you doesn’t get it, but in my world, cops are trouble. A lot of them have serious issues, and the best thing you can do is stay out of their crosshairs.” She clasped his hand. “When I got arrested, I thought my life was over before it had begun. I really appreciate you taking my case.”

  “That’s what I do.”

  “For no charge?”

  “Sometimes. Glad I could help.”

  She tilted her head slightly and a sly smile crept out. “Some way I can thank you?”

  “Yeah. By making the most of this and having a great life.”

  She pointed a finger at him. “You got it. See
ya when I see ya.”

  After she left, he considered what to do with the rest of the day. He didn’t have any pending cases. Mr. K, his boss, had been quiet for several weeks. This might be a perfect opportunity to get in a little kitesurfing. Or maybe it was time to give zorbing a try. He’d heard there was a place outside town that rented inflatable balls.

  “Basking in the afterglow?”

  He glanced up. Jazlyn made her way toward him, swinging her briefcase.

  “Forgive me, but that sounds a little sexual.”

  “I think you get a bigger charge out of winning cases than you ever got with a woman.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Care to test that hypothesis?”

  “Hard pass. Got another hearing in fifteen minutes.”

  He wasn’t normally all that friendly with prosecutors, but Jazlyn had earned his respect and admiration. Despite usually being on opposite sides of a case, they’d become friends. And he wouldn’t object to becoming more. “Pity. Something big?”

  “Extremely. And don’t bother asking, because I can’t talk about it. Totally hush-hush DA stuff.”

  “Got it.” Probably something political. Those cases always produced the tightest lips. “By the way, thanks for agreeing to the dismissal.”

  “My case was shattered and you know it. Why didn’t you tell me about Porter’s...eccentricities?”

  “I did tell you he was an unreliable witness. I strongly recommended that you not put him on the stand.”

  “Which was impossible, since the whole case depended upon him. But if you’d told me about the Bigfoot thing, I might have thought twice. How did you find out about that?”

  “Garrett unearthed the Tallahassee police report. Turns out Bigfoot hunting is at an all-time high, especially in the alt-right community.”

  “I don’t see the connection.”

  “They link Bigfoot with freedom from government restraint and living by instinct, in tune with nature. Searching for Bigfoot gives them a taste of that freedom. And there’s an anti-intellectual aspect, particularly popular with people who don’t have much formal education. Knowledge about Bigfoot doesn’t come from books.”

  “That’s for certain.”

  “They associate it with explorers and survivalists. The pioneer spirit. They even have tours. And television shows. Finding Bigfoot ran for eleven seasons—even though they never found anything.”

  “Like Ghost Hunters.”

  “Exactly. Apparently the whole thing began back in the fifties when a prankster named Ray Wallace planted fake footprints. He later admitted it was a hoax, but no one was listening. Someone else staged the famous film footage—obviously a guy in a suit. And no footage since, despite the fact that everyone on earth has a smartphone in their pocket.”

  “I suppose there’s no harm in allowing yourself to believe in a little fantasy.”

  “Except there is. This anti-intellectual, unscientific fuzzy thinking is becoming all too prevalent and leaves people susceptible to crackpots saying the moon landings were faked. Or climate change is a myth. We need less romanticism and more critical thinking.”

  “You didn’t answer my question. Why didn’t you tell me about the Bigfoot connection before we got into the courtroom?”

  “That would’ve been previewing my case to the prosecution. Which would be extremely stupid, and probably malpractice. You should’ve dropped the charges.”

  “Well, as it turned out, I did. And Sheriff Pike gets another notch on his gun belt. Another villain vanquished in his eternal quest for justice.”

  “I don’t like the government railroading people, if that’s what you mean. I don’t like innocent lives ruined because someone was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “I think you have a problem with cops.”

  “I don’t. I respect and appreciate cops. Just not this one.”

  “We charged five people at that party. Why did you take this defendant’s case?”

  “I couldn’t represent them all. Potential conflicts of interest.”

  “But why her?” She gave him some serious eyeball. “Because she was the skinny pretty one?”

  “Because she was the one who had the guts to tackle the screwball cop.”

  “I think you took her case because she’s a hottie. Men always want to save the damsel in distress. If she’s hot.”

  “Don’t try to turn me into some chauvinist stereotype. I’ve always supported equal rights.”

  “Doesn’t mean you’re not kinda sexist though.”

  “Did you come over here to question my stance on gender politics?”

  “No. I came to invite you to a party.”

  “Not a pool party, I hope.”

  “As if I could afford a pool. No, Esperanza turns ten this weekend. She wants you to come to her celebration.”

  A few months earlier, Jazlyn adopted a young El Salvadoran émigré he had helped with her immigration problems. “Would this be me and a bunch of grade-school girls from St. Teresa’s?”

  “And me.”

  “Count me in. Enjoying motherhood?”

  “Surviving motherhood. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  “Aw, come on. Esperanza’s adorable.”

  “Yes, but parenting is still an enormous amount of work. I had no idea. Plus the DA keeps increasing my workload. I’m working twelve-hour days and I can’t afford an au pair.” Her voice dropped slightly. “I’m beginning to wonder if this adoption was a mistake.”

  “You’re a terrific mother and Esperanza is lucky to have you. And she knows it. Give it more time. You’ll find your groove.”

  “Thanks. I needed to hear that. I suppose you’re right. But still—” She exhaled heavily. “That business about women having it all? Not possible. I think Gloria Steinem owes me a refund.”

  “Hey, maybe after the party we could go out to dinner. Just you and me.”

  Jazlyn twisted her neck. “I...don’t think that’s such a good idea, Dan.”

  “We went out once before. What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is, I’m a prosecutor. You’re an extremely high-profile defense attorney. Some would say notorious.”

  “Some would say fabulous.”

  “Certainly you would. Yes, you’re the miracle worker, the Annie Sullivan of the courtroom. You’ve tanked more of our prosecutions than all the other defense lawyers in town combined. Which is a good reason for me to say no to dinner.”

  “Ok, how about a Sunday spin in my boat?”

  “The Defender?”

  He lived on a forty-foot sailboat moored in the bay. “The one and only. I thought I’d take her out, maybe chug down to Tampa. The weather is great. I’ll cook.”

  “Now this is actually tempting. Maria tells me you’re a fine cook.”

  “Some would say fabulous.”

  She took a step back. “Let me think about it. Ok?”

  “You’ve got my number.” He felt a vibration in his pocket. “Speaking of which.” He pulled out his iPhone. “Looks like I’m wanted back at the office. Mr. K has a new case.”

  Jazlyn shook her head. “Isn’t that whole arrangement...kinda creepy?”

  “What? Taking assignments from someone I’ve never met? Who only appears as a disembodied Skype voice? What’s unusual about that?”

  She swung her briefcase around. “Different strokes for different folks. I just wonder about his motivation.”

  “I know his motivation. He wants to help people. And he has an unerring knack for finding the right clients.”

  “The slim minority who are actually innocent?”

  “The ones who genuinely need assistance and can’t get it through the usual channels. They need the Last Chance Lawyers. You know, if you’d like, I could put in a word for you with Mr. K.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve already got a boss.”

  “Till he runs for mayor.”

  “We already have a mayor.”

  “Word is she wants to move up in the
world and your boss wants to take her place.”

  “Then I’ll get a new boss.”

  “Or maybe you’ll run for DA and be the new boss.”

  “Stranger things have happened. I’ll get back to you about the boat.”

  He nodded. “Could be just what you need, Jazlyn. Basking on the deck. Contemplating life’s mysteries. Like Life of Pi.”

  “With you at the helm?” She waved as she cut a path down the hallway. “More like Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.”

  Chapter 4

  He woke to unbearable heat. He felt as if he were melting, as if his flesh were dripping from his bones.

  He couldn’t move. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, and he could barely move. He was helpless. And melting.

  What happened? All he could remember was being with her, strolling through the arcade, then the sudden run and rush, adrenaline pumping, excitement, she smelled too good to resist, she was on top of him and—

  Why couldn’t he remember anything after that? He’d fallen asleep in the afterglow, but so hard and so fast and—and then that weird conversation he could barely remember...

  Where the hell was he? Sweat poured down his face. His clothes clung to him like a second skin. The heat was so thick he imagined he could see it. He moved his head and thought he felt resistance, a palpable, intense, oppressive presence. His lungs struggled to breathe.

  He could not last long in here.

  He was tied up like a rotisserie pig, on his haunches, hands at his side. He could barely move and there didn’t appear to be far to go. He tried to squirm—

  He felt something. A person. Someone else, not moving. He rocked from side to side. He felt someone on the other side as well.

  He was not alone. But he was apparently the only one conscious.

  Dark, hot, many people, unable to escape. This was a death trap.

  “Helllllp! Help meeeee!”

  His words echoed, but not for a moment did he imagine anyone had heard him. There was a metallic tone to the echo. This was a small enclosed space with little clearance. When he shouted, it sounded thunderous.

  He was inside something. Metallic. He felt the wall behind him. Iron, or so he thought.

  A cascade of memories flooded back. They had entered a bakery. She had a key. That should have made him suspicious, but he was hot and he wanted her and that blacked everything else out of his brain—