Overkill(32)

“A culmination of things. I had to walk to and from the courthouse a dozen times and—”

“Why?”

“Because the internet connection is better there. According to the lady at the cable office who took my complaint call, the internet service is especially dicey when it’s wet outside.”

“It is.”

“How was I supposed to know that? I don’t live up here in the mountains. I should have been cautioned about the internet’s unreliability before they stuck me in the horrible office.

“Anyway, I spent all day traipsing back and forth across the street. And now I look and feel like a drowned rat, while you show up looking like a Ralph Lauren ad, which amounts to sabotage, and is very unfair. I’m just saying.” She took another slug of wine.

Zach wanted to laugh, but he wasn’t that stupid. “You could have saved yourself all this hassle by going back to Atlanta.”

“I didn’t want to drive through the mountains in the rain. Besides, I thought I’d stay until I got your reaction to the transcript of Eban Clarke’s trial.”

He wanted her simmered down before they talked about that. “What else got you riled?”

She hesitated, stared into the low flames in the nearby grate, then brought her gaze back to him. “I have an investigator keeping tabs on him, on Clarke. The AG approved it only this morning. I’m trusting you with that information. It’s not for public knowledge.”

“Natch.”

“I spoke to the investigator just before leaving the office. He reported that Eban is zipping around the city in a spanking new, quarter-million-dollar car. He’s buying designer clothes, designer shoes, living the life of royalty.” She placed her fingertips in the center of her forehead and rubbed them up and down. “I have a real problem with that.”

After his visit to the special care facility, Zach had a real problem with it, too.

He took a look around the dining room, relieved to see that it wasn’t crowded. Locals had become accustomed to seeing him in and around, so they rarely approached him anymore. The tall back of the booth behind Kate provided seclusion and would keep them from being overheard.

He said, “We can order whenever you’re ready.”

His tone must have signaled her that he wasn’t yet ready, because she told him she could wait.

He nodded. “I want to ask you a question.”

“All right.”

“Are you a star prosecutor?” She opened her mouth to speak, but he headed her off. “Don’t be modest.”

“Well, I’m not a novice. I paid my dues in a county DA’s office, much like the one here. The area was rife with meth labs and opioid supply chains. I went after them and got convictions. My win–loss record helped me jump the line of lawyers hoping for a position in the attorney general’s office.”

“Figured that,” he said. “What I want to know is if the AG assigned you this case, or if you took it upon yourself?”

“As I told you, I did background and research for Clarke’s early release hearing. The arguments against any reduction of his sentence were so compelling, the judge’s ruling floored me. I went to the big boss himself and made a case for pursuing a more serious charge against Clarke once he was out.”

“And Rebecca officially deceased.”

“Yes,” she said, looking rueful. “The AG actually winced. He reeled off a long list of the difficulties and delicate issues involved. He used adjectives like ‘polarizing’ and ‘incendiary.’ All of which, he stressed, are trapdoors for a prosecutor.

“And then there’s Eban’s distinguished bloodline. Never mind that he robbed Rebecca of her life that night, even if she didn’t die. Bottom line, the AG would rather avoid the matter until after the November election.

“I argued that if we wait, Eban will fly the coop. So I stuck to my guns and cited the precedent-setting cases that made headlines and were debated on national programs like Face the Nation. He has an ego, so he liked the sound of that, and, after exhaustive discussion, gave me leave to approach you.”

“To test the temperature of the water,” Zach said.

“Yes. But it was conditional. He reminded me of all the moral and ethical implications, and advised that I approach you with caution. Not with shock and awe.”

She reached for her glass, but rolled the stem between her fingers without picking it up. “He also stipulated that if you declined even to consider a change of course for Rebecca, I was to let it go and apply no pressure to you whatsoever.” Having made the admission, she met his gaze head-on.

Studying her, he rubbed his index finger back and forth across his lips. His thoughtful scrutiny made her squirm. “What?”

“I don’t think you’re going to let it go. I know you’re beating the drum for law and order and all that, but there are a thousand criminals you could target to bring to justice without all the trapdoors. Why are you fixated on Eban Clarke?”

“I’m not fixated, I—”

“Why, Kate?”

She tilted her chin up. “I’m an officer of the court. I want justice for Rebecca. That’s all the explanation you need.”

He knew there was more to it than that, but he’d pushed her as far as he could. For the moment. He took a sip of bourbon then said in a low tone, “I went to see Rebecca yesterday.”