Due Process (Joe Dillard #9)(50)



Kevin poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat down at the table while I leaned against the kitchen counter and ate a bowl of strawberries and blueberries.

“You have to go,” I said. “I’m sorry. I thought this would be okay, but after last night, I’m not comfortable with you being here. I’m afraid whoever did this knows you’re here. I’m just not sure. The whole thing might have been directed at me because I’m representing you, but the sheriff didn’t say anything about Devante’s or Evan’s lawyer’s houses being shot up or crosses being burned in their yards. I don’t know if they knew that was your car they shot all to hell, but I have to assume they did. I just don’t want to take unnecessary risks. They might be watching, just waiting for a chance to get a shot at you or snatch you up. We need to call your parents and we need to find a place to hide you until I can get this thrown out or get you acquitted at trial. Any idea where you might be able to go? I wouldn’t be comfortable with you staying with your parents. It’d be too easy for them to find you if they’re looking.”

“Who’s they?” Kevin said.

“Probably the Klan or some group like them.”

“I can’t believe this,” he said. “It’s beyond anything I could have ever imagined.”

“It’s real,” I said. “Imagine the worst possible thing that could happen, which is them getting their hands on you, and figure out where you could go to keep that from happening. I have an old Army buddy named Bo Hallgren who lives in Michigan that you could go and stay with. He lives on a big farm and would do anything I asked of him. He’d do his best to protect you.”

“I don’t want to put someone else in danger,” he said.

“Whatever you do, wherever you go, someone is going to be in danger,” I said. “Especially you. Help me out here. You’re a smart young man. I need you to think in terms of survival. Imagine you’re being hunted by the most dangerous predator in the world. Where would you go to hide?”

“My face has been all over newspapers and magazines and television screens everywhere in the country,” Kevin said. “My best friend from high school lives in Oregon now. He’s getting a master’s at Oregon State in Corvalis. He texted me when I was arrested. He saw my face on the CBS Evening News. I don’t think there’s anywhere in the country I can go and really feel safe. I might as well just stay here and ride it out. If they kill me, they kill me. If you don’t want me here, though, if you don’t want it on your conscience if they get to me or if you’re afraid they’ll hurt you or your wife, I understand. I’ll go to Collierville and stay with my parents.”

I shook my head and sighed.

“I guess you’re right,” I said. “You’re probably not safe anywhere. Just stay here. Do you know how to use a gun?”

“No, sir. I’ve never fired a gun in my life.”

“Okay. Well, I don’t think they’ll try anything in broad daylight. I’m sure the sheriff will have his guys keeping a close eye on the house. I’m going to go to the office and meet with someone, get some work done, and I’ll be back at lunch. Do me a favor and stay in the house. Rio will let you know if anyone unwelcome comes around. If he starts barking or growling, call 911 and then call me.”

“Okay,” Kevin said.

I got dressed and, after sweeping shattered glass out of part of the cab of my truck, drove to the office. The back windshield of my truck had been blown out, and there were three bullet holes in the tailgate, but it was otherwise unscathed. As soon as I got a chance, I would take it to a car wash and vacuum it thoroughly. Then I’d have to take it to a body shop and get the windshield replaced and the tailgate repaired.

Stony had already arrived when I got to the office. I’d called Jack and told him I was coming, so they were waiting for me. The four of us settled into the conference room.

“This is a privileged meeting,” Stony said immediately. “I want it understood from the beginning that anything that is said in this room this morning stays here, and anything I might happen to give to you did not come from me. Is that clear? I have no intentions of going to jail, and if I do, I promise you’ll all go with me.”

“Sounds serious,” I said, knowing I was about to get some long-awaited answers to some perplexing questions.

“It is. Are we in agreement?” she said.

“Absolutely,” I said.

“Are you recording this meeting in any way?”

“No,” I said.

“I have your word? No audio or video recorders hidden? Nobody taking any notes?”

“Nothing.”

“Mind if I sweep the office for bugs?”

“Go right ahead.”

She pulled a small device out of her briefcase and began walking around the office. She was back in ten minutes.

“The place is clean,” she said. “No bugs, no cameras.”

“Good to know,” I said.

“Okay, first. The infamous lineup. Present were Investigator Bo Riddle of the Johnson City Police Department and the alleged victim in the case, Sheila Self.”

Stony pulled out a laptop and pushed it to the center of the conference room desk. Someone at the JCPD—another investigator, I was certain—had placed a hidden camera in the ceiling above Riddle’s head. Stony pushed a button on the keyboard and the video began to play. It clearly showed Riddle coaching Sheila Self. He laid out only six photos, all of them were black ETSU players in uniform, and especially with the identity of Kevin Davidson, he was clearly tapping on the photo to influence her to choose it. The audio that went along with the charade of a lineup was priceless. I absolutely could not wait to confront Riddle on a witness stand with this evidence. It would be a true Perry Mason moment.

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