Justice Lost (Darren Street #3)(75)

“Oh my God, Darren,” Claire said when she answered her phone. “I’ve been so worried. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“What happened?”

“Roby Penn got killed this morning. The official story is that the sheriff took him out, but I think you and I both know better. Thank you for making that call.”

“I didn’t think you could rely on the sheriff.”

“Well, thank you. You saved my life. And don’t be too hard on Sheriff Corker. He’s had a sudden attack of conscience. I think he and I are going to get along pretty well.”

“Are you hurt?”

“A few scrapes and bruises. I came out of it far better than I should have.”

“You know, I had the strangest feeling earlier,” she said. “I woke up around 5:15 a.m., and I thought I very distinctly heard you say goodbye to me.”

“I did say goodbye to you. At 5:30 a.m., I was lying behind a mound of dirt in a garbage pit with a crazy man walking up on me, firing an M60 machine gun. I thought I was dead, so I said goodbye. What you heard was obviously an illusion, but it’s funny how those illusions can be so close to reality sometimes.”

She was silent for a few seconds. Then she said, “He had a machine gun?”

“You should see the sheriff’s car. It looks like it’s been in a junkyard for twenty years and people have used it for target practice. No glass, no tires. It’s a mess.”

“That car was his pride and joy, from everything I’ve heard. He must be devastated.”

“The car’s name was Felina, but I think he’s going to let her go and get something that isn’t quite so loud. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he quit wearing those pearl-handled pistols.”

“Wow, it sounds like he’s making some real strides in the right direction.”

“Speaking of strides in the right direction, how would you feel about me coming up to Washington for a couple of days? I’d like to meet with your grandfather about the director of the TBI here and tell him what I know. I’d also like to see whether he can get the FBI up there to make some things happen.”

“You want to come to the swamp?”

“I do. Can you recommend a good hotel?”

“I have a fantastic place near the Capitol Building. You can stay with me.”

I liked that idea. I felt like it was time to see whether there was a real physical attraction between us.

“Tell your grandfather we found Captain Gary Brewer. It wasn’t pretty, but we have his remains.”

“Thank you, Darren. He’ll be so grateful. When would you like to come to town?”

“Things have been pretty intense here for quite a while,” I said. “Maybe this weekend?”

“Perfect,” Claire said. “Book a flight and let me know when you’re arriving. I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Darren?” she said.

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to deceive you. Ms. Tipton called me earlier. She said Eugene saw everything that happened. She said Eugene said you fought so bravely, that you stood in front of that maniac and didn’t back down an inch.”

“I backed down plenty. I ran like a scared rabbit.”

“You’re brave, Darren. That’s the point. I’m enamored with brave men.”

For the first time in a long, long time, I felt butterflies in my stomach. “I’ll see you soon,” I said.

“Can’t wait.”





CHAPTER 44

Six weeks later

I stood at the lectern in Criminal Court Division II and looked up at the judge.

“Darren Street for the prosecution,” I said.

A convict with a long record of sexual offenses had been charged with raping, murdering, and burglarizing the apartment of a seventy-two-year-old woman not far from the University of Tennessee campus. It was a semi-high-profile case, but more important for me, it was the first case that I had been able to work into my schedule as a trial lawyer.

“Are you here for show, Mr. Street, or are you actually going to try this case?” Judge Richard Bell said.

“I intend to prosecute this case from arraignment to verdict to appeal, if there is one,” I said.

“Well, this is certainly new. Mr. Morris, may he rest in peace, didn’t try a single case in my court during his entire tenure in the district attorney’s office.”

“Things are being run a little differently,” I said.

“They certainly are. I, for one, would like to commend you and the other prosecutors in your office for the way in which you’ve conducted yourselves since you took over. The dockets are already remarkably less clogged, and things seem to be running extremely efficiently.”

“That has as much to do with you as it does with my office, Your Honor,” I said. “You run a tight ship in here.”

Why not brownnose the judge a little? What could it hurt?

“Thank you, Mr. Street,” Judge Bell said. “Will the clerk call the case number?”



There had, indeed, been many changes in the past six weeks, and not just in the district attorney’s office. Pimps, prostitutes, drug dealers, cockfighters, and dogfighters were no longer being extorted for money and protection. Instead, they were being arrested by the sheriff’s department. Sheriff Corker had implemented a zero-tolerance policy for crime in his county, and his deputies had fanned out like a swarm of locusts into the criminal underworld. The result was a lot more work for the lawyers in my office and a steep increase in arrests in the outlying areas of the county.