Bad Bitch(46)

“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.”

“This is being done right.” I tried to keep my voice steady. It didn’t work. Fear was there in the syllables.

“You better hope so. We’ll see, we’ll see.”

The line went dead.

My knees buckled and I slid to the floor. I clenched my eyes shut, warding off the bogeyman with my own self-imposed darkness. I sat there for a long time, my heart racing and sweat pouring from me. So much was riding on every move I made. Everything I touched was on the verge of being destroyed. I had to win this trial. I had to appease reasonable doubt. I’d already sacrificed so much, but I would give even more if I had to. Self-preservation, primal, instinctual, was there, ruling my actions.

After a long while, I collected myself and rose. There was no other option now. Keeping it together was the only way for me to get my neck out of the noose. I needed to eat and go home. I had to look good tomorrow, my best. Professional for the female jurors, a little sexy for the males. I couldn’t do that if I slept in the office. I couldn’t let DiSalvo ruin my chance at saving myself. I had to keep going, to see this through, to show him that this was the right way to handle it all.

The night was rainy, a lingering winter chill in the air. I caught a cab and went to Thai, one of my regular haunts. I wasn’t hungry, would probably wind up vomiting back up every last noodle, but I needed to at least make an effort. I had the cabbie wait for me as I ran in to pick up my order. When I emerged back into the wet gloom, two men approached. I froze. They were large and didn’t seem to care about the soaking rain. One had a silver pistol. They grabbed my elbows and hustled me into a waiting car. My cabdriver watched through his windshield, his mouth agape at the scene.

I didn’t have a chance to scream or fight. The car sped from the curb, out into the traffic and away from the familiar lights of the courthouse. The men on each side of me hemmed me in, their heft keeping me wedged between them. They were clearly the muscle and smelled like stale cologne and alcohol. Two more men were in the front, a driver and a passenger.

The passenger took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke into the car. His hair was dark and greasy, and his thin mustache made him somehow more effeminate. He watched me with dark, beady eyes.

I watched the pistol in his left hand. It was a light gray with a shiny barrel. It had mesmerized me from the moment I saw it pointed at me as I was shoved into the car. One of my captors took my purse from my frozen hands and searched it before tossing it onto the floor under his feet.

I was in shock or something close to it. I realized what had happened to me, but it was still only now becoming clear that I was in mortal danger.

“Wondering why you’re here?” the stranger asked, his voice an unpleasant falsetto.

I tore my focus from the gun and looked him in the eye. I didn’t answer, just gave the same stare back to him. I already knew I wasn’t here to talk. I’d been brought to listen, at least until we reached our final destination. Then all bets were off.