Law of Silence

Law of Silence

John Foxjohn

Published by Watermark Press at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 John Foxjohn

Discover other titles by John Foxjohn at Smashwords.com

Unbalanced

Code of Deceit

Cold Tears

Color of Murder

Tattered Justice

Journey of the Spirit

Other books by John Foxjohn

Paradox

Killer Nurse—the true story of a female nurse serial killer

Dedication

I’ve known few people in my lifetime that I thought was a Saint.

I’m dedicating this book to Sadie Marie Choate, one of the few.

If she isn’t in heaven looking down on us—

We don’t stand a chance of getting there!

Chapter 1

With the morning sun blasting through the windshield, Alicia Monroe blinked, trying to see. Her vision blurred, especially on the left side. The movement caused a jagged pain to rip through her face. Sobs made it difficult for her to concentrate on her driving.

She had no idea where she was going or what she would do, but she had to get away before he killed her. She’d never seen a look like that in anyone’s eyes, especially her husband’s. He’d hit her before but never like this. As she battled the early morning traffic around Houston’s 610 Loop, she reached up to move the visor, but pain burst through her side, causing her to gasp for breath.

Horns blared and tires squealed as she swerved through traffic to the right shoulder. Sobs and pain shot through her, but if she didn’t get herself together, the traffic would kill her and save him the trouble.

She had to escape, but where could she go where he wouldn’t find her? She wanted more than anything to see her parents, go to them, but they lived three hours north of Houston. She couldn’t drive that far in her condition.

As cars and eighteen-wheelers whiffed by, shaking the car, she carefully reached for her purse and pulled it to her. She fished for her cell phone, found it, and dialed her parents’ house. As tears cascaded down her cheeks, she slammed the phone closed when she got the answering machine. Frustration mounted as she called her mother’s cell phone and then her father’s, but all she got was their voicemail.

God, where were they? She needed them. She lay her head back and closed her eyes. If she didn’t get away, he would kill her. He’d told her so and she believed him. The horrible names he’d called her cut through her.

She tried calling her parents again but still didn’t get through. Then she glanced at the time and realized that they were at the health club. They went together to work out every other day.

Fishing in her purse, she found her compact and looked in the mirror. Shivers shot through her. She couldn’t see out of her left eye because it was swollen shut, and the entire side of her face was twice its normal size. A cut split her swollen bottom lip, and she’d bled down the front of her blouse.

He’d punched her with his fist. When she fell, he began kicking her. How many times she had no idea. As she lay in a fetal position trying to protect herself, the blows from his kicks rocked her, jarred the breath from her. With each kick, pain lashed through her, until finally, all the pain blended into one.

Now, she tried to cover the discoloration on her face but soon gave up. It was no use. Besides that, she had no way to cover the swelling or her lip, or hide the blood covering her front. At the moment, her face was the least of her worries. Her side and chest hurt every time she breathed. She must have a broken rib. And she felt like she was going to throw up.

She threw the compact down. She’d planned on leaving him. Actually had an appointment with a divorce lawyer the next day, but she’d waited too long. Her mom had tried to tell her, but she hadn’t listened. God, why did she have to be so stupid?

After a deep breath that she immediately regretted, she glanced ahead. A sign advertised the Stardust hotel. That was her only option. She’d get a room and wait till she could contact her parents and have them come and get her.

She struggled putting the car in gear but after several minutes was able to. When she half turned to get back on the highway, pained knifed through her. Nausea churned in her stomach and a strobe inside her head flashed blackness as she lost and then gained consciousness.

Panting because she couldn’t breathe right, she had to wait several minutes before the traffic broke so she could jump in. The wheels spun on loose gravel as she accelerated too fast, but she was able to get into the outside lane to take the next exit to the hotel.

Alicia exited and pulled into the front to register. A shudder swept through her. She must look a sight. No telling what the people inside the hotel would think. It took everything she had to open the door and get out. She was stiff and hurt everywhere. She couldn’t stand up straight because of the pain in her side, but found that it eased a bit when she stooped.

Shuffling toward the front door, she met a couple coming out. Alicia could feel their eyes on her as they passed. She fought back tears as her face flushed with embarrassment. As she entered the hotel lobby, everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at her. Like the couple outside, she felt their stares and heard their whispers.

A young girl with a horrified expression, was the only one at the registration desk. Alicia passed her credit card and driver’s license and croaked out, I need a room, please.

The clerk didn’t seem to know what to do. Finally the shock wore off and she picked up the credit card and began registering Alicia. When the clerk finished, she pushed the registration form to her across the counter. After filling out the card, it took all of Alicia’s energy to push it back.

The young woman gave Alicia back the card and ID along with a plastic room key. Her voice shook. You’re in room 218.

Alicia nodded at the only words the clerk said to her.

Amid the stares, real or imagined, she didn’t know which, she shuffled her way to the elevator. The only consolation she had was that no one who knew her would recognize her. These people were all strangers who she’d never see again. Locked in her room, she would be out of everyone’s sight and safe until she could reach her parents.

She was unaware of the young clerk frantically calling her manager on the phone.

By the time Alicia made her way to her room and inside, the knifing pain in her side was almost too much to bear. She had trouble breathing and for some reason, her lip wouldn’t stop bleeding. Blood kept dripping down her chin and onto her clothes.

Taking out her cell phone, she sat hunched over on the bed. She had just enough energy to place a call to her mother, but again got her voice mail. Through sobs, she told her where she was and that she needed her desperately.

After closing the cell phone, she lay down on her right side opposite of where all the pain was, but crunched up, the only way that lessened the pain shooting through her. Her head swayed and the room sped around in a vortex.

Her eyes closed and she slept, she thought, but people she didn’t know kept moving her, lifting her. She could hear their voices but couldn’t make out the words. Although awash in pain, she smiled when she saw her mother and father, one on either side of her. They had come, but then she realized she was dreaming. She was in a hotel room, and they couldn’t have gotten to Houston that quickly.

Then she moved and she didn’t know where she was going. She could see the ceiling and the lights above. She tried to ask, but she could only gurgle. The moving sensations continued then everything went black.

Moments later she lay on her back but the room felt different. Smelled different from her hotel room. Antiseptic like a hospital. Her eyes popped open. She was in a hospital. How’d she get here? She turned her head and her parents were there beside her. Her father’s face was stiff with worry and tears pooled in her mother’s eyes.

She tried to say something but the words would not come out. Her mother stroked the hair away from her face. The gentleness of it took her back to when she was a child.

She glanced around and found a man she didn’t know. He had a square face with a brown flattop haircut. He wore a gray long sleeved shirt with a red tie, but she focused only on the badge clipped to the front of his pants and the gun holstered on his right side. She’d seen him before but didn’t know when.

It took a moment, but she realized that this man spoke to her. Ms. Monroe, do you understand me?

She tried to speak again, but couldn’t, and nodded.

Ma’am, my name is Detective Frank Lawson with the Houston Police Department.

The name echoed in her mind. She not only recognized his face but for some reason the name was familiar. When he stopped, she realized he waited for her to respond. This time she didn’t attempt to speak, but nodded again.

Ma’am, he continued, I know this is a bad time, but I am afraid that I must inform you that you are under arrest for the murder of your husband, Jared Monroe.

***

Danny Kinsley sat at the defense table inside the Harris County district courtroom with his face buried in hands. All the noise that the reading of a murder verdict brought on, the sobs, cries of relief and anguish, and for revenge had disappeared. Everyone had left the courtroom but him. The light shining through the windows and the lemon scent of furniture polish was all that remained.

Danny sucked in a deep breath and sat up straight. He’d lost another one, and it didn’t sit well with him. He blew out a breath. Probably didn’t sit well with Wayne Thompson, his client, for that matter, but he’d tried to tell him. The DA simply had too much evidence. This should have never gone to trial.

He’d advised his client to take the deal on the table: thirty years was a long time, but Thompson would have eventually been eligible for parole. Now Danny had to get ready for the sentencing portion of the trial, and it wasn’t going to be easy. His client wasn’t the best person in the world and had a long record of convictions. He stared life in prison without the possibility of parole right in the face.

He shrugged. What could he do if a client was too stupid to look at things realistically? Heck, it wasn’t like he’d asked for him as a client. The court had appointed him to represent Thompson and at a fraction of what a normal criminal defense attorney made on a murder trial.

Still, it gnawed at him to lose even if he really didn’t have much of a chance at winning. Although it definitely wasn’t a game, sometimes thinking of it as one helped him keep his sanity. But in a normal game, both sides had an equal chance. When he had a guilty client, and one that wasn’t overly bright to start with, but thought he was, the game was one-sided.

He shook his head as he thought back to the time Thompson told him it was his job to get him off anyway he could—to bribe someone or something. This wasn’t the first time that a client had suggested something like that to him. He supposed some attorneys did that. They also ended up in jail. Danny had explained to Thompson as he had the others that he would never violate the law for a client. That was a creed he had no intention of breaking. It was more than just the fear of law enforcement catching him, and they would eventually if he broke the law. He’d decided to become a defense attorney because he believed that everyone deserved a defense, but he also believed in law and order and due process.

Standing, he adjusted his blue silk Hermes tie, straightened his Italian suit coat, and glanced at his Rolex. He had an hour before he was supposed to meet his mentor for lunch. He yawned. He hadn’t slept much the last week. Had too much to do and still hadn’t gotten it done. Trials like the one he’d just experienced pulled him in two directions. He had wanted to win—absolutely hated to lose at anything. He’d done everything in his power to win the trial. Losing stayed with him a lot longer than winning.

On the other hand, he had no doubt that Wayne Thompson was guilty of the murder, and he didn’t want to see him free. He shouldn’t be free. Danny hadn’t wanted to be the one responsible for a murderer walking the streets.

As he trudged out of the courtroom, he met Kim Palings, a defense attorney he’d gone to law school with, heading in the opposite direction. Without stopping, she glanced his way and asked, Tough one, Danny?

Yep, a tough one, he said to her back as she continued to hurry down the hallway. He wasn’t sure if she heard him or not. It didn’t matter anyway. He supposed Kim was like him, in a rush to get somewhere, but not knowing where they were going.

Pain began to throb in his temples. These were the things that they hadn’t taught him at law school. He had trouble living with the loss, but he would have had trouble living with the win, too.

He wished he could find a balance or God forbid, an innocent client he could fight for. After all, that was why he’d gone to law school to begin with—fight for the innocent who couldn’t fight for themselves.

He realized that a loss with a client that he truly believed innocent would be ten times more devastating than this one, but winning might feel like he thought it would when he went to law school.

Outside on the steps, he paused as people hurried both ways. He sucked in a deep breath of the Houston spring air. A few years before, there had been a campaign to clean up and beautify the downtown area. Somehow they’d gotten rid of most of the bums, at least in this area, and businesses had planted trees and flowers. Now he could hardly smell the smog and refineries.

Hey, Danny, wait up. The familiar voice came from behind him. Despite his beginning headache and the gnawing in his gut from the loss, he turned and smiled at the tall, gangly attorney who rushed to catch up with him.

Martin Tibbs glanced up and down at Danny’s clothes. Man, that suit is something. Where do you get all these clothes?

Danny chuckled. You chased me down to ask me about my suit?

Nope. We have a game this Saturday afternoon. We need you. Playing some of those sissies from the DA’s office. They think they’re basketball players.

Danny, Martin, and three other defense attorneys had a basketball team, and they played others in the city. Danny cocked his head a moment and looked at his friend. Does Sam Young play with them?

Martin shrugged. Think so. I heard his name but don’t know him. Do you?

How much money did you put on this?

Hundred bucks each. Same as always—why?

Danny sadly shook his head. You’ve been taken. You might not recognize Sam Young’s name, but I bet you have seen him. Picture the tallest lawyer you have ever seen—especially in this town. That’s Sam Young.

Martin shrugged. Tall doesn’t mean everything. What is he, six-two? Six-three?

Try six-eight and was an all conference forward at Baylor.

Martin groaned. They snuck a ringer in on me.

At six-two, Danny was the tallest on the team, although Martin was close. But they were the only ones over six-foot. He smiled. He did like a challenge. We’ll just have to see if Sam Young can guard me, Danny said. One man isn’t going to beat us. We’re a team.

Dejected, Martin mumbled, Yeah, right.

I’ve got to run. See you Saturday, Danny said raising a hand for a high-five.

***

Alfonso’s was a quaint little Italian restaurant on Fannin Street and four blocks from downtown and the district courthouse. Undiscovered by the general population and without fancy trimmings or atmosphere, Alfonso’s served great food at low prices. For the most part, the restaurant’s clientele consisted of attorneys, judges, and the mélange of employees who worked at the courthouse.

The aroma of garlic, butter, and fresh baked bread led Danny toward the entrance. He’d run by his office and got his investigator working on the finishing part of Thompson’s sentencing that would take place Monday morning. He’d taken a quick call from an assistant DA on another case and then rushed out for his lunch meeting.

He glanced at his watch as he entered. He had a minute to spare. He hated being late as much as he hated losing.

The hostess, Alfonso’s oldest daughter, smiled. He’s back at his usual table.

Danny returned her smile. Thanks, Millie.

He and Millie had gone out twice a couple of years earlier. It didn’t take either one of them long to realize that they were not right for each other. They liked each other, but Danny never even kissed her. However, they remained friends.

Danny threaded his way toward the back booth. He and Horace Humphrey had a back table reserved for them at noon on Fridays. They both made an effort to get away from what they were doing for this hour with each other. It wasn’t always possible with Danny and his court schedule, and if he couldn’t make it, he always called Horace first, and then Alfonso’s. He didn’t want them to keep the table reserved if they weren’t going to be there.

He found Horace with his head buried in the newspaper as usual while he waited. Horace Humphrey was seventy-six years old with stark white hair, bushy white eyebrows, and piercing blue eyes. His fat ruddy checks and nose were spider-webbed with red veins. He also insisted that everyone, Danny included, call him Horace. He absolutely hated people calling him Mister or Sir.

He was a retired attorney who had worked for Monsanto for forty-five years. As Danny approached the table, he lowered his paper and a bright smile creased his face. He pushed himself out of his chair and extended his hand in a warm handshake.

Danny sat and after their initial greeting and small talk about how they were doing, the waiter came by and set hot bread and butter along with a large glass of water for each. Steam with a yeasty fragrance rose from Italian bread, an Alfonso’s staple. Both tore off a hunk and spread a mass of creamy garlic butter.

After ordering coffee and the spaghetti, Danny told him about the trial and how it had turned out.

One of Horace’s bushy eyebrows shot up. He cocked his head. How does losing that one make you feel?

Danny shrugged. He would never tell anyone else, but the older man wasn’t just anyone. I feel like my arms are about to be pulled off—both from a different direction.

Horace nodded. Thought so. Winning isn’t always best in this business is it?

The waitress showed up with Danny’s cup of coffee, and he sipped it before replying. Maybe, but I sure hate to lose.

Horace chuckled and then turned quiet, which wasn’t like him at all.

Danny frowned. Something wrong? He worried about Horace’s health. Horace drank too much and smoked too many cigars, and he’d had a couple of heart attacks.

Horace waved him off. Something bothered him but badgering wouldn’t work. Danny had learned a long time ago that the old man talked when and if he was ready and not sooner.

After the salads arrived, they dug in and it didn’t leave a lot of room for talking. Danny glanced up and found the old man’s eyes staring at him. When are you going to find a woman and settle down?

Horace’s question almost made him choke; it was the last thing he had expected. What could he say? He wasn’t good with relationships. He had lots of female friends and didn’t have any problems finding companionship, but as several had told him in the past, he had commitment issues. He didn’t know if this was true or not. He sipped his coffee before answering. I don’t know. Haven’t found the right one yet.

Humpf. The sound from Horace came out like a cross between a grunt and a curse.

Silence lingered between them, which was unusual, but Danny wanted to give Horace the chance to think about what he wanted to say, and he did want to say something.

When the table was clear, Horace folded his napkin and set it beside his plate. He picked up his coffee cup in large, liver-spotted hands that shook slightly. He sipped it for a minute and set it down, and then cleared his throat. Ah, Danny, I have something I would like to ask you.

Fear for the old man’s health sizzled through Danny. He leaned forward. What’s the matter?

I hate to ask what I’m about to… Horace blew out a long breath. I have an old friend from the army… he shrugged as if trying to find the right words. Actually he’s not much of a friend. To be honest, he’s an insufferable ass. Unfortunately the man saved my life and I owe him.

Horace sighed and Danny waited for him to finish. His daughter was arrested this morning by the Houston police for murder. He needs an attorney and asked me to recommend one.

Danny’s eyebrows shot up. You recommended me?

Horace shook his head. No, but I told him I knew one and would talk to you about it.

Danny hated this kind of stuff, but at the same time the old army buddy had placed Horace in an uncomfortable place. Danny rubbed his hands together as if to warm them. Horace, I’m an attorney because of you. Without you, I would not be in the place I am. I will talk to the man.

A sad smile creased the old man’s face. If I was young enough I would kick your sorry butt. You are a lawyer because of you. He jabbed a finger in the direction of Danny’s face. You are where you are because of you. Don’t you ever forget that.

Danny wasn’t about to argue with him, but he knew the truth. He owed everything to this old man. If Horace wanted him to represent this man’s daughter, that was the least he could do. Sir, if you’d be so kind, Danny said in a formal way he used sometimes to irk Horace. Tell the man to meet me at my office at eight in the morning. What did you tell him about me, anyway?

I told him if his daughter was guilty, any attorney could get her a deal and she’d better be hunting one. But if she was innocent, she’d better have you as an attorney.

Danny scratched his head. That was it?

Horace arched one of his shaggy brows. Listen to me, boy. Like I said, I owe him, and I am paying him back by getting you two together. I never said you would do it for free. As I said, he’s an insufferable ass, but boy, he’s a rich one. You stick it to him.

A grin plastered on Danny’s face. Yes, sir.

***

Danny arrived at his office at six Saturday morning. He’d had a date Friday night with his on-again-off-again girlfriend. The date hadn’t lasted long, and they began the off-again period. It seemed that they wanted different things. She wanted to take their relationship up another level—meet the parents and all that kind of stuff. When he heard that, he wanted to take the level down a peg. She’d accused him of not wanting to meet her parents and called him a snob.

She was right about the not wanting to meet the parents deal, and said so. But when he told her he wasn’t a snob, she’d asked him what the problem was.

She wasn’t the first one to ask him that question. She didn’t like his shrug anymore than the others did. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure women out. As soon as they started to get along, they wanted to drag him off to meet daddy.

As he sipped his coffee, he prepared for the Thompson sentencing Monday morning and made a few calls. After hanging up, he stared at the phone a long couple of moments. He needed some information before his meeting with Horace’s old army buddy, and knew where to get it, but really didn’t want to.

After tapping his fingers on the desk, rearranging some folders that were perfect to begin with, and standing and pacing, he flopped in his chair and picked up the phone. Lieutenant Patricia Holmes, the cultured voice said on the other end.

Patricia, this is Danny. You got a moment?

Well, Danny, is this business or pleasure?

He rolled his eyes. Business.

In that case I’m in a hurry, she said. Truth is, I do have a meeting to get to.

Okay, you know about the homicide arrest the HPD made yesterday morning?

I don’t know a lot about it. Lawson arrested Alice, Alicia, or Allison, something like that—last name is Monroe. Far as I know that was the only homicide arrest. Accused of murdering her husband. Just a second.

Danny leaned back in his seat and propped his feet on the corner of his desk as he waited. A minute later, Patricia came back on. Her name was Alicia Monroe and she is accused of murdering Doctor Jared Monroe. You getting that one, too?

I don’t know yet. Meeting with her parents in a little bit.

Her voice dripped scorn. Good luck with it, Danny. I know how much you like to meet parents. I would love to chat with you about that, but right now I got to go. Give me a call.

His eyebrows rose and he puckered his mouth when she hung up. Patricia was beautiful, sexy, intelligent, and fun to be with. She was every man’s dream. Why wasn’t she his?

He shook his head trying to get her out of it and refocus his thoughts. As far as he knew he’d never met Jared Monroe’s wife, but he had met the doctor a few years before at a charity function. He’d heard even more about him. If she’d killed him, it sounded like what the police sometimes referred to as a misdemeanor homicide—give her a parking ticket for it.

He was still working at his desk when his secretary called to tell him that his appointment was here. Sally, give me a couple of minutes and send him in.

He stood and first stretched the kinks out of his back, and then adjusted his dark blue Hermes tie. He’d just put his coat on when someone tapped on his door. He strode around his desk ready to shake hands when the door opened. Sally stepped in with an older couple behind her.

Danny strode forward to shake but stopped as if he’d run into an invisible barrier. His hand froze halfway. His eyes hardened as he glared into the cold eyes of Landon