“Yeah, I remember it. Guy liked to bomb places like synagogues and mosques, right? Didn’t they arrest him? I thought he went away for life plus something like three hundred years.”
“Well, bro, off the record, it looks like his attorneys got him a new trial.”
Rafe let loose a string of curses. “He’s as dirty as they come. I remember following a good chunk of the trial, but kinda lost track after he was convicted. How could they possibly justify giving him another trial?”
“He’s either got a very good lawyer or somebody’s on the take. Maybe both. It’s not common knowledge yet. The feds are keeping mum, because there’s a catch.”
Rafe looked up from the pages he’d started flipping through. “There’s always a catch, isn’t there?”
“Remember the niece? The one who testified against him and a bunch of her family members during the trial? She’s the one who turned them in in the first place.”
“I remember her.” Rafe tapped the folder against his knee, staring out the windshield. “Didn’t she go into witness protection afterward? Big Jim made some not-so-veiled threats in open court about how she’d pay for her treachery and betraying the family.”
“Uh-huh. There’s the rub. Sharon Berkley is in the wind.”
“Can’t be good for the feds’ case. I seem to remember she was pretty much the lynchpin holding their case together. Can’t they use her previous testimony against him?”
“Not as long as she’s still alive, they can’t. What is it they always say, the accused has the right to face his accuser? If she’s not there to testify, the government’s case is pretty much circumstantial evidence, and from what I’ve been told, shaky at best. Without Sharon Berkley’s testimony, chances are good he’ll walk.”
“How do you play into all of this?”
“The case I’ve been handed is to find Sharon Berkley.”
Rafe barked a laugh. “Kind of a tall order for one man, isn’t it? I’d think on a case this big, they’d have scores of agents looking for her.”
“They do, spread out all over the country. I happened to luck into the local case because the agent they’d assigned had appendicitis and had to be rushed to surgery.”
“Tough luck.”
They drove for a few minutes in silence, and Antonio pulled over and parked in the parking lot of the elementary school, and watched his brother’s eye scan the building. He knew exactly where Rafe’s mind had gone, straight to his fiancée, Tessa. He hadn’t been thinking about that when he’d pulled in here, he’d simply wanted to stop for a few minutes to hash out the case with Rafe, because he was about to drop the big bombshell.
He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Rafe’s cell phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, Rafe shrugged and murmured “sorry” before answering.
“Hello.” There was a warmth in his voice, which immediately told Antonio it was somebody Rafe knew and cared about on the other end of the phone. “No, don’t touch anything. Lock the doors, and we’ll be right over.”
“Trouble?”
Rafe nodded. “Maybe. Looks like there might be a break-in. I need you to drive.”
“No problem. Where to?”
Rafe’s gaze met his. “Serena’s place.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Something big was in the air. Big Jim could practically taste it. Like anticipation of something just out of reach, a prized toy dangling beyond his fingertips. If he reached for it too soon, somebody would snatch it away. But he could wait. He’d learned to be infinitely patient since being locked behind these walls. Not for much longer, though. Freedom hovered just beyond his grasp, growing closer each day, tantalizing him with the possibilities awaiting him when he walked out a free man, with the world at his feet.
The long stretch of hallway taunted him, the stretch from his cell like an endless tunnel, the putrid color an affront to his senses, and he stumbled, grabbing onto the wall to steady his balance. The muffled chuckle from the guard stabbed at him, mocking him at the overwhelming sense of powerlessness of being incarcerated in this stinking hole in Colorado. As much as he hated the chains they slapped on him every time he had to walk the dank, dreary halls to meet with his lawyer, he smirked at the thought one day they’d come off for the last time. Never again would he breathe the fetid stench of confinement behind prison walls. He yearned to feel sunlight on his face, drink in the luxury of going where he pleased, answerable to no one but himself.
Drury better have good news this time. He was tired of nothing but failures with each visit. Everything depended on finding his niece. Her ingenuity at outwitting the lackwits in witness protection still amused him. It also infuriated him, because she’d become the elusive prize hindering his every move. The MacGuffin in his Hitchcock drama, but not for much longer.
Sitting in the hard chair, he remained still as the guard took off his shackles. Physical encounters with the guards resulted in nothing more than solitary confinement and punishments for what they alleged was bad behavior. The lily-livered wimps didn’t know the meaning of the term. He’d played nice thus far. If only they knew what he had in store for them once he was free, they’d cower from him in abject terror.
It was another couple of minutes before Drury came through the doorway. Face flushed, he looked both excited and terrified. He came in empty-handed. The prison rules stated he couldn’t bring in his briefcase or even a cell phone, nothing the prisoner might take. Little did the guards know, things like phones, drugs, and other illegal items could be easily obtained inside their hallowed walls if the price was right. Sometimes he wondered at the naiveté of the United States
