Bad Bitch(60)

We drank as I went over the details of my deeper investigation into Castille. Wood downed the rest of his glass and poured another as I talked, giving him the lowdown on the prosecution wet dream of a case I had come up with against DiSalvo and a few choice others. He took an even bigger gulp when I told him I’d changed tactics once I met Evan.

“This case, Lincoln.” He shook his head. “If you would have pursued it through Evan’s front door and subpoenaed her files, shit. You have enough right now for Judge Crane to sign off on a warrant for every piece of paper in Pallida & Associates. Slam dunk. You’d be the next U.S. attorney in New Orleans, easy. You know that, right?”

I tossed back the rest of my second glass. “I do.”

“But you’re fine leaving that stone unturned?” Wood ran a hand along his jaw and rubbed his face.

“Fine? No. But I was going to for her sake.”

He leaned back in his chair and watched me steadily. “That didn’t seem to work out, though, did it? DiSalvo still tried to take her out. And if I know anything about that son of a bitch, it’s that he’s thorough. He’s no quitter. He’ll send more until he gets her.”

“That’s why I came to you. We have to find a way to get Evan out of the city. Witness protection?”

Wood’s eyes narrowed. “He’d find her. The federal government isn’t known for its secret-keeping abilities anymore. Hackers and the like make it impossible. DiSalvo has more than enough money to pay some Chinese genius to break into the government system and track her down. And he’d do it. No loose ends.”

“Shit!” I slammed my glass down.

“But that isn’t to say there’s no way to keep her safe and take him out at the same time.”

I heard something in his voice, like excitement. I didn’t think it was possible for Woodhall to get excited about anything. I was wrong. The glint in his eye was magnetic. It was like I was getting a glimpse into Wood’s past, back when he was a hotshot prosecutor looking to make a name for himself.

“I’ve been wanting to nail that piece of shit for decades. This could be the time.” He corked the bottle and slid it back into his desk. “Jesus Christ on the cross, this may be it.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, my sleepless night weighing on me. “How? The bastard’s in Cuba, remember?”

“He is. He is,” Wood agreed, “but his son isn’t. Lester took over the family business after Leon left for Cuba. The DiSalvo family parted ways with Evan at that time, too, so she’d be free and clear of any investigation or charges brought against the son. And even more good news, the DiSalvos are just as dirty as they were back when Leon was still in charge. If we turned up the heat on the son, my money says the father would come running.”

“Do we have anything on Lester?”

“No, but I’d be willing to bet Evan has more than enough in her files to get us started.”

“Then we’re back in the same hole.” I threw my hands up. “She can’t turn that over to us. She’d lose her license. She would never agree, and I wouldn’t let her.”

“That so? You think she gives a rat’s ass about her bar card after what happened last night? Good work, by the way. Back in the olden times, U.S. attorneys were more than just prosecutors; we actually got to mete out justice on occasion. DiSalvo’s men got what was coming to them.”

I shook my head. Did Wood just give me a pat on the back for killing DiSalvo’s hit men? He was the real deal, a hardcore lawman. I hadn’t thought I could respect him any more than I already did. I was wrong.

“I may have a work-around to that, anyway. DiSalvo’s been gone for what? Four years?”

I wasn’t sure, but Wood wasn’t talking to me at this point anyway. He was ruminating to himself.

He continued, “Yeah, four years. He left in May of that year. The bar’s document retention policy is five years, right? After five years, Evan can destroy all her records dealing with any cases or clients before that five-year window. I’m certain she has plenty of records that are over five years old that document the DiSalvo family dealings. So all she has to do is ‘dispose’ of her records—the ones that now belong to the son—in an inefficient sort of way.”

“You mean, give them to us? If DiSalvo filed a bar complaint—”

“You think he’d do that?” Wood swatted the thought away with his thick palm. “He’ll have a lot bigger troubles than his ex-attorney by then.”

“What about attorney-client privilege? Wouldn’t Leon be able to keep those documents out of evidence?”