Vengeance of the Demon (Kara Gillian 7)

“Bailiff,” Laurent said and waited for the deputy to straighten. “Go down to the Sheriff’s administrative offices on the first floor. You tell the Sheriff that he or his designee has been summoned by instanter subpoena to explain to the court why this detective is not present.”

Holy shit. Describing Laurent as irascible was putting it mildly. The bailiff scurried out. Finley stared at the judge in disbelief then sank to sit, clearly trying to get his bearings in this new development. The “couldn’t be served” angle would have worked with most other judges, but apparently it was a hot button for Judge Laurent. Damn, I might end up owing Pellini a big favor.

Laurent sat back in his chair and slipped his glasses on, then proceeded to ignore everyone in the courtroom while he flipped through the papers on his desk. Nobody dared talk or move around since he hadn’t called a recess, and a bizarre silence reigned while we waited for the arrival of the Sheriff or his designee.

I shot a quick look at Tolya. He held an expression of mild interest, but I couldn’t shake the sense he was watching the performance of a play he’d written. Great, my lawyer was clever and manipulative, but I knew this whole scenario was a gamble that could easily backfire. The judge was pissed now, which might carry over into his rulings on my fate.

The butterflies crowded in. More of this stress and I’d be coughing up legs and wings.

Less than ten minutes later the doors opened, and a round-faced man about my height with a bad haircut and a weak chin scrambled in ahead of the bailiff. Not the sheriff, but his second in command—Chief Deputy Ron Pigeon.

Judge Laurent straightened and beckoned the baffled man forward. “Chief Deputy Pigeon, the District Attorney’s office informs me that Detective O’Connor could not be located to be served with the subpoena for a hearing in my courtroom this morning.”

“Er.” Pigeon threw a confused look to Finley—who could only give him a pained one in response. “I’m sorry, your honor,” he said, “but, well, I’m sure the detective—”

Laurent cut him off. “This woman is sitting in jail on serious charges,” he said, thrusting his hand in my direction. Pigeon cast a bewildered glance toward the bench full of prisoners, but it was obvious he had no idea what was going on, or whether the judge was gesturing to me or Angry Chick. “We’re not playing games here,” Laurent continued, warming to his topic. “A subpoena isn’t an invitation to a party. This is an order of the court—not a request—an order!”

“Yes, your honor.” Pigeon bobbed his head in a nod.

“I intend to hold a hearing, and I expect Detective O’Connor to testify,” Laurent said, color high in his cheeks. He was righteously pissed and enjoying it.

Pigeon shifted his feet. “I understand, your honor, but—”

“Chief Deputy Pigeon,” Laurent interrupted, “I know all the detectives have department-issued cell phones that they’re expected to answer. Ms. Gillian may not be in jail by the end of this, but someone else might be.” With that threat hanging in the air, the judge swung his ire to Finley. “As for you, I was once an ADA. I know you have O’Connor’s cell phone number. Do you want me to investigate the call records and determine whether you’ve talked to him since I issued that subpoena?”

Finley paled. “No, your honor!”

Shit. Yeah, it was fun to watch Finley get reamed, but his reaction told me O’Connor knew about the subpoena—which meant he had time to prepare to ge

t on the stand. What if the detective showed up, gave compelling testimony, and the judge set an unaffordable bond? Or no bond?

Perspiration rolled down my sides. If I ever got out of this mess, I was burning this sweatshirt.

“I’m going to recess for fifteen minutes,” Laurent announced. “I’d better hear the patter of Detective O’Conner’s feet before that time is up.” He stood and stormed off the bench, barely giving the bailiff any time to call out the “All rise.”

The instant the chamber door closed behind Judge Laurent, Pigeon dove toward Finley. The two engaged in a hushed and intense conversation, and after about half a minute they broke apart and got onto their phones. Calling their bosses? Or tracking down O’Connor? They ended their respective phone conversations and conferred again—with a few dark looks cast Tolya’s way and mine. Finley moved to the judge’s law clerk and spoke quietly to her before she disappeared into Laurent’s chambers. A few minutes later she returned, gave Finley a nod and beckoned to Tolya, and both attorneys headed to the chambers.

More time passed, while the other prisoners looked askance at me. Finally Tolya and Finley exited the chambers and resumed their places. Once again I tried and failed to get any signal of reassurance from Tolya. Laurent resumed his seat and cleared his throat.

“After consultation with the district attorney and the counsel for the defendant it has been agreed that a proper bond pursuant to the Louisiana code of criminal procedure is 25,000 dollars.”

I clenched my hands together to control their shaking as relief swam through me. Tolya turned to me with a look of pure triumph. Twenty-five grand was a hefty chunk of cash, but if I used a bondsman I’d only lose about three thousand. Still hurt, but nowhere near as devastating. Judge Laurent rested his sharp gaze on me. “Ms. Gillian?”

I hurried to stand. In my peripheral vision I saw Tolya rise as well. “Yes, your honor?” I said.

“You are not to leave this jurisdiction without permission of the court nor are you to speak to any witnesses. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your honor. I do.” The knot of dread began to tease apart. This wasn’t over, but I’d regained some ground.

And, more importantly, I could go home and take a damn shower.

• • •

It took over three hours to process out and fork over several grand to the bail bondsman. That effectively wiped out my savings, but I’d worry about the future of my finances another day.

“Keep your head down and stay out of trouble,” Tolya ordered after he gave me his card with his contact information. “And don’t talk to any more detectives. Except Pellini. I’ll find out when the next court date is and will be in touch with you before then.”

I thanked him effusively and would have hugged him, but I figured that with my current level of stench it would be a mean thing to do.