Breach of Trust (6 page)

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Authors: David Ellis

Tags: #Mystery, #Thriller

BOOK: Breach of Trust
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The scrawnier one saw me first and said something to Ernesto, who looked my way. When he saw me, he started to come toward me, presumably to separate the two of us from his friends. But I was so close I could almost touch him, and for this function I was performing, I literally had to make contact with him.
He managed to say, “The hell are you doing,” before I slapped the envelope against his chest.
“A subpoena,” I told him. “You’ve been served. You must appear in federal court next week to testify in the case of
United States versus Hector Almundo.
” It was all very formal and unnecessary. The subpoena inside would tell him all of that. But I wanted the drama. I didn’t have anything left.
Instinctively, Ernesto had accepted the envelope before I’d explained its contents. He stared at it and then looked up at me, shaking his head. “No,” he said. “I don’t—I won’t—”
“It’s your decision,” I said. “You can appear at that date and time, or federal marshals will come and escort you. And then you can explain to a federal judge why you’re different from everyone else who is subpoenaed.”
“No,” he repeated. He seemed to be in shock, only now catching up with what was happening.
“And if you lie about what you know,” I went on, “you could be charged with perjury.”
“You threatening my friend?” It was the bigger guy, the one with the torn tank. Up close, I could see the tiny tattoo of a dagger on the inside of his upper arm. He was a member of the Latin Lords. He had only a slight trace of an accent. He’d learned English and Spanish simultaneously as a child, I assumed.
Standing face-to-face, as we were now, I towered over him. I was six-three and he was five-ten at best. He had wide shoulders and some muscle tone, a scar across his forehead, a crappy goatee. He was meaner and tougher than me, but only one of us knew that for sure. I looked down at him, making eye contact for a long moment before I uttered two words with sufficient conviction that I was making it clear, I’d only say them once. “Back. Off.”
It threw him momentarily. He’d expected retreat. Now he was reassessing. In my experience with the gangs, they respect the well-dressed white man who marches onto their turf, because they assume he’s law enforcement. For all this guy knew, I was an FBI agent.
“Oye,”
said Ernesto, placing a hand on his friend’s arm.
“Permítame
.
”
“Buen consejo,”
I said. Listen to Ernesto and back off.
“You can’t make me say something I don’t want to say,” Ernesto said to me.
I slowly took my eyes off Ernesto’s friend and looked at Ernesto squarely. “I can put you on the stand and ask you questions all day. I have a pretty good idea of where to start. I’ll get there sooner or later. If you lie, I’ll know. And if you refuse to answer, you’ll go to prison for contempt.”
“No,” he said. “No, you can’t—”
“I can and I am. My card’s inside that envelope,” I told him. “Including my cell. You talk to me now or I’ll see you in court.”
It was my best pitch. I drove back to my office. I wasn’t feeling great about what I’d done, but I was out of options. I was betting that compelling his testimony would ease whatever conflict was plaguing him. I’d be making the decision for him. You can’t ignore a federal subpoena. So with his back against the wall, he’d come clean. Maybe.
My cell phone buzzed as I was exiting the highway into the commercial district. Traffic had been murder at four o’clock on a Friday night. It reminded me of our trip to see Talia’s folks tonight. But the phone call wasn’t from Talia. The call was from Ernesto Ramirez.
“Hello,” I said with as little feeling as I could muster.
“You said before—you made me an offer before. I tell you what I know and you keep me out of it.”
“Right, I said that. The longer you take to tell me, the harder it will be for me to use the information, the more I’ll need your live testimony.”
“What does that—”
“It means tell me right now, Ernesto. Right. Now.”
There was a pause. Electricity shot through me. I thought it was actually coming.
“Not over the phone,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, trying to conceal my reaction. I’d broken through. Easy and calm was now the right approach. “Where and when?”
“Later today,” he said. “I’ll have to figure out how. No phones, though. Face-to-face.”
“Then make it very soon. I’ll meet you anywhere. Don’t keep me waiting, Ernesto,” I told him. “Do not keep me waiting.”
9
 
I HUNG UP WITH ERNESTO AND TRIED TO KEEP MY
expectations low. He seemed ready to play ball, but a promise wasn’t anything more than a promise. Still, the more he’d held out, the more valuable his information appeared to be, the more my hopes rose in the air like they were filled with helium.
Talia called my cell as I was walking back into my office building. “Hi, babe,” I said. “I’m trying to wrap everything up. I’m at the finish line.”
“Great. Okay,” she said, somewhat distractedly. I could hear Emily making a yelping sound near the phone. “Remember it’s supposed to rain tonight. It would be good to get on the road as early as possible.”
“Right. I just have to wait to hear from that guy I told you about, Ramirez. I’m on his schedule, not the other way around.” Talia and I had been over this briefly this morning, but like most disjointed conversations while caring for a newborn, there had been no real resolution.
“And this matters, even if you’re at the finish line?”
“It depends on what it is he gives me,” I said. “We haven’t formally decided to rest our case, and even if we do, if I uncover something huge, the judge would let us reopen.”
Talia tended to Emily a moment. I was used to such interruptions. I waited her out.
“Does that mean you’re planning on working this weekend, too? I mean, if this is ‘something huge,’ does that mean you aren’t coming?”
I didn’t have a good answer to that. “I don’t know. He said he’d call me soon. I don’t know ’til I know.”
“That’s not very helpful, Jason.”
“I don’t know what else to say. These are unusual circumstances.”
“Are they?” Talia’s tone sharpened.
“Yes,” I said. “They are. This guy’s life is hanging in the balance, Tal. He’s being accused of murder and I might be coming upon evidence that proves it didn’t happen the way they say. I’d put that down as unusual circumstances. Wouldn’t you?”
“I’m just wondering if we’re going to have an evolving standard of ‘unusual.’ That’s all. Is there always going to be something? Am I going to be raising our children alone?”
“That’s not fair—”
“You know what? I’m tired and nauseated and cranky, and right now I’m not in the mood for
you
to tell
me
what’s ‘fair.’ I believe you told me last night that Paul told you to go with us this weekend, not to worry about anything else.”
“But that was before Ramirez agreed to—”
“Okay. Jason? Just—stay here, okay? Stay here and go the extra mile for a man who you think is guilty of just about everything they’re accusing him of doing.”
“Talia, just—just give me an hour or two, okay? Two hours,” I decided. “Two hours.”
 
NINETY MINUTES CAME AND WENT.
No call from Ernesto Ramirez. Paul Riley called my cell with a quick question about a document. Then, sensing something, he asked, “Where are you?”
“Office,” I said.
“I thought you were going with your wife this weekend.”
“I am. I’m just waiting for somebody.”
“Tell me what you’re doing.”
I sighed. “Ernesto Ramirez. You remember that guy I told you about?”
“Jason, Jason. He’s waiting to talk to Ernesto Ramirez,” Paul said to someone. I heard Joel Lightner laugh and call out, “Dead end, kid!” I heard our client, Hector Almundo, say, “Tell him to go with his family.”
“Well,” Paul summarized, “the universal conclusion of your senior partner, your client, and your private investigator is that you should forget about this guy and go be with your family.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” I said.
“Hey kid—seriously. I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to pull a rabbit out of a hat. I’ve been you. But it’s late in the game, and I think your part is done. You’ve done a phenomenal job and your family has earned a day or two of your time.”
“Understood,” I said. “But if—”
“That’s an order, kid.” The last thing I heard, before Paul hung up, was the sound of Joel Lightner and Hector Almundo laughing.
Well, laugh,
I thought.
It will just make that rabbit all the more magical.
 
HALF PAST SIX.
Still no call from Ramirez. I was back on the phone with Talia.
“What’s the delay?” she asked me.
“I don’t know. He—I don’t know. I tried his cell and he didn’t answer. But I think it will be soon.”
“You think it will be soon.”
“Maybe ‘hope’ is a better word. What if—”
“Jason.”
“—we waited until tomorrow morning—”
“Jason.”
I stopped. There was an icy calm to my wife’s voice.
“Emily and I are going now. You feel like you have to wait there, and I feel like I can’t wait any longer. I’ll call you when I get to my mother’s.”
I let out a long, sorrowful sigh. “Talia, baby, I swear that this won’t always be like this. I promise.”
There was a long pause. It sounded like my wife was crying. I wanted to fill the space with more promises, but I wasn’t sure they helped. A promise never made is better than a promise broken, and I’d fractured plenty of them since this trial started.
“Say good-bye to Em.” Talia’s voice had choked off; she barely got the words out with emotion filling her throat. I heard her away from the phone. “Daddy’s saying bye-bye, honey.”
“Bye, sweetheart,” I called into the phone. “Have fun with Grandma and Grandpa, Em. I love you, sweetie.”
“Okay.” Talia took the phone back. “Bye.”
“I love you,” I said, but the line had already gone dead.
And that was the last I heard from my wife. I spent the next four hours bouncing off the walls at my law office, cursing Ernesto Ramirez for the delay, making silent vows to Talia and Emily Jane, going online to investigate possible vacation spots for after the trial. Things would be better after this case. I would make it up to both of them. It wouldn’t always be like this. This trial was the exception, not the rule.
When the phone rang four hours after we spoke, I thought it might be Talia, safely at her parents’ house. Or I thought it might be Ramirez, finally agreeing to meet with me. In that brief flash of time as the phone rang, it didn’t occur to me that she always dialed my direct line or the cell, not the general line that was ringing, nor did it occur to me that Ramirez would have probably used the cell phone number I’d given him.
Mr. Kolarich, I’m Lieutenant Ryan with the State Troopers.

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