Bad Behavior(45)

Judge Crane waved her hand. "I get it, Ms. Pallida. I see nothing amiss with either set of your experts. Motions to disqualify on both sides are denied. Move on."

Though Lincoln kept his anger at bay, he was still clearly suffering from Wash's presence. His arguments were mechanical, almost stilted, and injected with venom. I looked back at Vinnie, sitting in the front pew. He winked. The strategy was working according to plan.

We continued sparring, having some motions granted, most denied. His anger grew with each back-and-forth between us. I could sense it, though he controlled it well enough to fool Judge Crane. He was a powder keg. I'd lit the fuse. It had been slowly burning ever since Lincoln had first seen Wash, when he'd truly realized what I was capable of. Closer and closer it burned. I wondered what would happen when the flame met the powder. I knew I deserved whatever vengeance Lincoln decided to mete out.

Our arguments rose and fell, each one building on the last. I won disqualification of one of Lincoln's witnesses. I played dirty, bringing up the witness's divorce papers, which called his veracity into question. It was a long time ago and had no real bearing on the case. I plunged ahead, destroying any shred of credibility the witness had. I was all in; no need to start playing fair now.

Vinnie and I spent the weekend prepping Castille. I played bad cop, always bad cop, while Vinnie did his best to defend Castille from my blistering questions. Castille held up fairly well for a slimy son of a bitch. The contacts went a long way toward making him more relatable, his gaze not so ratlike. He'd learned not to talk out of turn or say more than was asked. His practiced good-guy routine tightened up the more we worked with him. It would be more than enough to fool the jury.

We hadn't decided yet whether we would call him to the stand. It depended on the Government's evidence, and whether I felt like reasonable doubt was smiling on me. If she was, Castille would ride the pine. He was good, but I didn't want to put him under Lincoln's spotlight. I knew Castille would cave eventually, even after the intense prep sessions where I'd drilled him mercilessly and he'd held fast. Lincoln would be far worse because he had righteousness on his side. It would give him an edge that I couldn't even begin to lay claim to. So I had to guard against it at all costs.



       
         
       
        

Vinnie and I had prepped, plotted, and done everything in our power short of sacrificing a virgin to woo reasonable doubt to our side. The night before trial, I sent everyone home for a good night's sleep. Vinnie was keyed up, too excited about sitting third chair to rest.

"Vin, if you don't go home and shut your eyes, at least for a while, you're going to look like hell tomorrow. I don't want a jury seeing you like that. So clear the fuck out."

"Fine, fine." He collected some papers and outlines of witness questions. I'd told him he could question our experts. I'd handle Lincoln's witnesses. Cross-examination was a specialty of mine. "But I'll be back here at five a.m."

"Bring doughnuts or you're dead to me."

"Will do, boss."

I went over my opening statement one more time, practicing my gestures and tone. My cell rang.

I checked the number and stopped dead in my tracks. DiSalvo. I didn't need this right now. Not even a little bit.

"Leon," I answered.

"Fuck you doing, Evangeline?" His voice crackled, like dead leaves crunching under shoes in winter.

"What?"

"I said, what the fuck do you think you're doing taking Castille to trial?" He tried to enunciate each word for emphasis, but I could tell his teeth weren't in. His words were sloppy, though no less dangerous.

"I'm doing my fucking job."

"Are you? I thought we already discussed this. I thought I told you how bad this could go for you. Didn't I do that, Evangeline?"

I leaned against the wall, needing something stronger than myself to support my quaking body. "Yes, but I-"

"But you what? You thought this was the way to handle it? To get some fucking prosecutor's brother on your team? That would fix it?"

"Look, Leon, I have this all set up. Castille is getting off. Your name will never be mentioned. Nothing will happen. This is the way to fix it all, to clean it all up, to put it to bed."

"You sure, Evangeline? Positive?" He was taunting me now. Laughing.

"Yes. Remember what I did for Sherman?"

"I remember Sherman crying for his mother before I put a bullet between his eyes." The laughter was gone; only the cold crackle remained. "I did it myself, Evangeline. I made sure it was done right."