In Firm Pursuit (30 page)

J
efferson and Detective Coleman rushed up to Vernetta's empty Land Cruiser and peered inside. The detective examined the windows and got down on his hands and knees to look underneath.

“There're no signs of a break-in,” he said, pulling out a small tablet from his back pocket and jotting down some notes. He placed both of his hands on the hood.

“And the engine is cold.”

Jefferson used his key to unlock the doors and climbed into the driver's seat. Nothing appeared to be out of place. Jefferson was slowly becoming unglued. “This is crazy. Where the hell is she?” He hopped out and slammed the door.

“Don't worry, man, everything's going to be fine.” Detective Coleman reassuringly placed his hand on Jefferson's shoulder.

Jefferson shook it off. “Is it?”

The detective cautiously backed up.

“What the hell were you thinking getting Special all wrapped up in this bullshit?”

The detective's cheeks expanded with air and he slowly exhaled. “Look, man, I had no idea it would turn out like
this. Special wanted to play detective, and I was just trying to humor her. If I'd known—”

“If you'd known? Man, what were you thinking? You took her to the accident scene and you gave her copies of those Micronics documents.”

“Copies? I never gave her any copies. I showed 'em to her, but I didn't give her any copies.”

“Well, she has some because she gave 'em to Vernetta. That's exactly why she's lying up there in a coma. And now Vernetta's all up in it, too. I just hope whoever's looking for those documents doesn't know that Vernetta has 'em.”

Detective Coleman's mouth gaped opened. “Man, man, man,” he said, walking in circles. “I didn't mean for this to happen. My career is over!”

“Your career? Nobody cares about your goddamn career!” Jefferson shouted. “If something happens to Vernetta, your career is the last thing you need to be worried about.”

The detective's shoulders went rigid and he seemed prepared to ward off a blow.

Jefferson pounded his right fist into his left palm.

“Look,” Detective Coleman said, “we should just concentrate on trying to find Vernetta. Let's go back inside and canvass all the floors again. This time, we need to talk to people. Somebody had to have seen her.”

That was the first decent idea that the man had come up with, Jefferson thought. Detective Coleman took out his tablet again. “Do you know what Vernetta was wearing?”

Jefferson tried to think. He had walked Vernetta out to her car earlier that morning, but had not paid much at
tention to what she'd been wearing. “A burgundy pantsuit with a pink blouse,” he said, hoping he was right.

The detective asked for her height, weight and a few other identifying traits. “Okay, you talk to the woman at the information desk and then stop by the gift shop,” Detective Coleman ordered. “I'm going to try to find Security. Then I'm calling a couple of my buddies at the station for some backup.”

I
jumped out of the cab and stormed into the Micronics lobby. I wanted some answers and I was going to get them.

I had called Ferris's secretary from the cab and told her I needed an emergency meeting with her boss regarding the Randle case. When she started to explain that he was unavailable, I told her I was already on my way over and that I would wait in the lobby until he
was
available. As she started to protest, my BlackBerry went dead. I couldn't even remember the last time I had charged it.

A thirty-something African-American woman with long braids greeted me with an odd look when I walked up to the Micronics reception desk. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You don't look too good.”

I noticed my reflection in the decorative mirror behind her chair. My foundation was blotchy and missing in spots and both of my red, swollen eyes were smeared with dark patches of mascara.

“Bad day,” I said, digging into my purse for my makeup bag. “I'm Vernetta Henderson and I'm here to see Rich Ferris.”

While the receptionist called Ferris's office, I took out
my MAC compact and stepped off to the side to touch up my makeup. The quick fix did little to improve my appearance. I dropped the compact back into my purse and started rehearsing in my head what I planned to say to Ferris. I wasn't sure exactly how I should play him. There was no way he would willingly admit to any wrongdoing. If this trip was going to be worth my while, I would have to be slick about it.

I felt a presence behind me and whirled around, but no one was there. My eyes crisscrossed the lobby. Two middle-aged white men in dark suits were conversing in one corner. A thin Asian woman was standing near the window talking on a cell phone. I looked through the wall of windows that lined the front of the building. Nothing appeared out of order in the parking lot out front. I exhaled, but I was still on edge.

From the direction of the elevators, I saw Ferris's assistant stalking toward me. Kathryn Phelps looked like a 1960s schoolmarm. She had a severe bun perched on top of her head and was wearing a flower-print blouse and a skirt that fell well below her knees. She did not extend her hand or offer me any greeting.

“Mr. Ferris has a very busy schedule,” she hissed. “Unannounced visits are quite inappropriate.”

“I fully understand that, but this is extremely important.” I was purposely making an effort to be more cordial than I'd been on the telephone during the cab ride over.

Kathryn glowered at me, but her attempt at intimidation had no effect. “Come with me,” she said curtly.

I followed her to the elevators, and once inside, I
tracked the elevator light as it moved from floor to floor. I hoped no one would delay my mission by stopping it to get on.

As we neared Ferris's office, I spotted Norma Brown sitting in a small cubicle. We had not seen each other since our conversation at 24 Hour Fitness. There was a brief display of terror in her eyes.

When we reached Ferris's closed door, his secretary pointed at a waiting area with two cube-shaped chairs. “Please wait here.”

I took a seat, grateful for a moment to compose myself. Before I could get my thoughts together, Kathryn walked out of Ferris's office and motioned for me to enter. I would just have to wing it.

“I hope you're here to deliver that signed settlement agreement.” Ferris's smile was as taut as a rubber band. I could tell that my impromptu visit displeased him.

I took a seat without answering him. He slowly sat down as well.

“I'm here,” I said, “because we have a problem with the settlement. I just got a call from Hamilton Ellis.” I paused and swallowed. “He's backing out.”

Ferris's eyes expanded into silver dollars and his face hardened. “What?” He sat forward in his chair. “Why? Did they find out about Karen's death?”

Karen? Not Ms. Carruthers?
I nodded.

He pounded the desk with his fist.

“It gets worse,” I said.

Ferris's harsh brown eyes bore into mine.

I intentionally waited a beat. “He thinks Ms. Carruth
ers was murdered…that somebody at Micronics put a hit on her.”

Ferris pounced out of his chair. “That's insane!”

Is it?
Hamilton's claim was so outrageous that Ferris should have simply dismissed it with a laugh. His over-the-top denial told me that there had to be some truth to the charge.

“This is ludicrous. We were willing to pay those clowns nearly half a million dollars to settle that case. What the hell do they want? Maybe it's time for me to get involved. Perhaps I can talk some sense into those idiots.”

“I'm not sure that's a good idea.” I crossed my legs and fiddled with the strap of my purse. “It would be out of the norm to receive a call from the client. That would only signal that Micronics is running scared.”

Ferris returned to his chair.

“Mr. Ferris,” I said, “is there anything else about this case that I need to know?”

“I don't know what you're getting at, Ms. Henderson.”

“I need to be honest with you,” I said. “Something about this case just seems fishy to me.”

“Don't tell me you believe this craziness about a hit?” he said, aghast.

“Frankly, I don't know what to believe.” I wasn't sure where I should go next, but I had to push the envelope. Regardless of the consequences. “Do you know for sure that no one at Micronics had anything to do with Ms. Carruthers's death?” I asked.

“That question is completely insane.” Ferris stared at
me with pure disgust. “How can you even ask me such a question?”

“It's my job to ask questions.”

“Well, I'm telling you that one is completely inappropriate.”

But you haven't denied it.
“And Randle's charges about fraud on the GAP-7 Program. No truth to that, either?”

“Ms. Henderson, your questions make it clear to me that you aren't the right attorney for this case,” he sneered. “I guess we made a big mistake reassigning you to it.”

“Mr. Ferris, it's my job to dig for the facts. All of them. And I just can't shake the feeling that Micronics is hiding something. And if I'm going to defend this case properly, I need to know what that is.”

“Ms. Henderson, I would feel much, much better if you operated on facts, not feelings.”

I was not about to let Ferris intimidate me. “I have to be the first to admit that I'm an emotional wreck right now. I came here from Centinela Hospital. My best friend was attacked in her apartment and severely beaten. She's fighting for her life right now.”

I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes that scared me.
Did he already know about Special's attack?

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Ferris said. “But I don't understand what that has to do with me or this case.”

I wanted to mention the ATPs, but I wasn't ready to play my trump card just yet. “My friend—her name's Special Moore—was captured in one of those pictures your investigator took. She was dating Hamilton Ellis,
Henry Randle's attorney. I'm just wondering if her attack could be connected to this case?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

I decided to take a different approach. “Mr. Ferris, let's go off the record. If you confide in me, I swear I'll maintain your confidence. And if you are involved in any way, I promise to do all I can to help you out of this.”

I thought I saw relief in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “There's nothing I need help out of, Ms. Henderson. As I told you from the start, Randle's claims are a bunch of lies.”

His eyes veered toward the crystal clock on his desk. “I'm afraid we're going to have to cut this conversation short. I need to advise the CFO that the settlement is off.”

“Why is the CFO even involved in this case?” I asked.

Ferris stood up. “I need to get going, Ms. Henderson. And you should know that I'll be giving Joseph Porter a call after my talk with the CFO.”

I took a few seconds to gather myself. I was on the brink of losing it and I didn't care if I did. My best friend had nearly been beaten to death and this guy probably had something to do with it.

“So you're going to have me taken off the case again?” I asked.

Ferris folded his arms. “Well, what would you do in my situation?”

“Mr. Ferris,” I said, pulling my purse higher on my shoulder, “I would never
be
in your situation.”

I
marched out of Ferris's office, asked his secretary to call me a cab, then took the elevator down to the lobby. When I pulled out my BlackBerry to make a call, I remembered that I had no charge left. The first thing I was going to do when all of this was over was buy a separate cell phone with a decent battery life.

Glancing around the lobby, I spotted a bank of pay phones and darted in that direction. It was time for me to reach out for some help. My hand trembled as I punched in James's number.

“I think I know what those Micronics documents are,” I said in a hushed voice the minute James picked up. My eyes welled up again and tears began streaming down my cheeks. “And Special's been hurt, and—”

“Slow down, slow down,” James said. “Are you okay?”

“No, I'm not okay.” I wiped tears from my face with the heel of my palm. “You won't believe what I've been through in the last twenty-four hours.”

“Calm down. Just calm down.”

Talking ten miles a minute, I told him about the attack
on Special and my hunch about the Micronics documents. “I really need your advice about what I should do next.”

“Where are you?”

“I'm at Micronics headquarters.” I suddenly realized the foolishness of having this conversation on a lobby pay phone. Someone in this company had tried to kill my best friend over the very documents that were now hidden at my house. No telling who was listening in.

“I need to get out of here,” I said. “Can you meet me somewhere?”

“Sure,” James said. “Just name the location.”

I tried to think of a suitable meeting place. If someone was after me, they would be less likely to act if I were surrounded by lots of people. “How about the Starbucks in the Ladera Center?”

“Good choice,” James said. “I'm just finishing up with a witness interview at the Inglewood Courthouse. I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“Okay. It'll probably take me a little longer than that. I'm waiting for a cab right now.”

I glanced at my watch and realized that I had missed my meeting with O'Reilly. But I didn't have time to think about him right now. I did, however, need to call my mother. She was probably worried to death after I disappeared from the hospital without a word.

Jefferson was another story. He was expecting an update following my talk with O'Reilly. But if I told him
that I'd gone to Micronics to confront Rich Ferris, he would be all over me.

“I need you to do me a favor,” I said to James. “First, call my mother on her cell phone and tell her I'm okay. Then I need you to call Jefferson. If I call him, I'll have to explain where I am. And if I do that, he'll go nuts.”