Jonesy snorted. "That woman wouldn't tell you shit. Even if one of her clients was standing in her office with a bloody knife and threatening to gut her. She wouldn't call for help. She would talk the client into paying her an even bigger retainer, and he would leave feeling like he'd won something. You'd be none the wiser."
I laughed. Jonesy was likely right. All the same, I'd tried to keep a close eye on her when I could. She wasn't hard to trace-ten- to twelve-hour days at her office, takeout from one of the restaurants between the office and her condo, and the rest of her night alone in her home.
She was solitary, but intentionally so. I'd seen her turn down plenty of offers during the short time I'd been tailing her. I enjoyed watching various men trying to chat her up and the way she shut them down. I couldn't hear her choice words from the distance between us, but I could tell she didn't hold back by the way the men scurried away like scalded dogs. If Jonesy was to be believed, this was a solid change in her MO on the casual sex front. I hoped I was the reason.
"But you still intend to take Castille down?" Jonesy interrupted my thoughts. "And then the whole shooting match in time?"
"Sure do." I stood.
"She's not going to like that."
"She doesn't have to." I knew I had a tiger by the tail when I first learned Castille had lawyered up with her.
I took two steps to his door.
He sighed, the wind completely gone from his sails. "You know, she isn't what she puts out there. I mean, she is the bad bitch, that's true. But she's a lot more than that. I've seen her, the real her, every so often. At Docket Call after she's had a few too many or when she interacts with certain people. She isn't what she seems. Most people take her at face value, so they don't realize the shit she says and does isn't a weapon, it's a shield to keep people away."
I'd seen the real her. The one who nursed a deep ache for her lost family. The one who was so steeped in loneliness that she thought it made her somehow stronger, as if connecting with another person would be a sign of weakness. And I'd let her see me. Not the bastion of law and order that I portrayed myself as, but a deeply flawed person who'd tried to change his ways. My forearm against Jonesy's windpipe only minutes ago reminded me I was still trying.
"By the way, did you tell her what I said about her the other night, when we were outside the bar, and you kneed me in the goddamn face?" Jonesy's voice had risen a little.
I turned back to look at him, and his color was up, or maybe he just looked red from the lack of oxygen.
"No."
"Shit!" He slammed his fist down on the desk.
"Why?"
"Oh, just get the fuck out of here." He didn't say it with menace, rather genuine irritation.
I obliged. Jonesy's secretary paid close attention to her computer screen as I walked by, careful not to catch my eye. I didn't blame her.
I went to my cramped cubby of a makeshift workspace. I spent the rest of the day ignoring glares from Wood and drafting some preliminary motions. I hoped to get the Castille case moving with some procedural fireworks. I wanted to keep the heat on that bastard, and once I had my conviction, I could focus more of my efforts on the larger investigation and, more importantly, on Evan. She wasn't going to be easily won, but I was more than ready to try.
Maybe I could talk her into a New Orleans trip. Kennedy would love her; I was certain of that. Wash would be a hard sell because of our history, but it was worth a try.
Late in the afternoon, I got a notification e-mail from the court. Evan had filed something in the case. I pulled it up on my laptop, accessing the online filing system to get a look at whatever procedural bugaboo she'd dreamed up. I knew it would be good. Underestimating her wasn't an option.
I double-clicked the file. It was a pro hac motion-one meant to qualify an out-of-state attorney to serve as co-counsel on a case. She didn't list who the attorney was but requested a hearing for the next afternoon. My phone buzzed again; it was the clerk of the court, granting the hearing and setting it for 1 p.m. What was she up to? In my review of her case files, I'd never seen her take on co-counsel from outside of her own firm, much less out of state. I marked it on my calendar and put it aside. I wouldn't know the details until the hearing, so there was no point spinning my wheels over it.
I spent the rest of the day working with one of my expert witnesses on the timing of money transfers in and out of Castille's accounts, and how those correlated to the accounts of his victims. I needed a precise statement of every transfer, every dime that was taken. Any misstep in the math or the chain of causation could send a jury in the wrong direction. I had to keep reasonable doubt from sneaking in through a carelessly unlocked door or seeping through a crevice in my evidence. I could only win with an airtight case, but I would see to it.