Attorney J. C. Fuentes was at my heels.
The door closed behind us and Sierra saw me. He said, “You, too, will die, Sergeant Boxer. You are still on my list. I haven’t forgotten you.”
I shouted at Sierra’s guards, “Don’t let him talk to anyone. Anyone. Do you understand?”
I was panting from fear and stress, but I stayed right on them as they marched Sierra along the section of hallway to the elevators, keeping distance between Sierra and his lawyer. When Sierra and his guards had gotten inside the elevator, the doors had closed, and the needle on the dial was moving up, I turned on Fuentes.
“Remove yourself from this case.”
“You must be kidding.”
“I’m dead serious. Tell Crispin that Sierra threatened your life and he will believe you. Or how does this sound? I’ll arrest you on suspicion of conspiring to murder Barry Schein. I may do it anyway.”
“You don’t have to threaten me. I’ll be glad to get away from him. Far away.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. “Let’s go talk to the judge.”
Chapter 21
Chief of police Warren Jacobi’s corner office was on the fifth floor of the Hall, overlooking Bryant.
Jacobi and I had once been partners, and over the ten years we had worked together, we had bonded for life. The gunshot injuries he’d gotten on the job had aged him, and he looked ten years older than his fifty-five years.
At present his office was packed to standing room only.
Brady and Parisi, Conklin and I, and every inspector in Homicide, Narcotics, and Robbery were standing shoulder to shoulder as the Kingfisher situation was discussed and assig
nments were handed out.
There was a firm knock on the door and Mayor Robert Caputo walked in. He nodded at us in a general greeting and asked the chief for a briefing.
Jacobi said, “The jury is sequestered inside the jail. We’re organizing additional security details now.”
“Inside the actual jail?” said Caputo.
“We have an empty pod of cells on six,” Jacobi said of the vacancy left when a section of the women’s jail was relocated to the new jail on 7th Street. He described the plan to bring in mattresses and personal items, all of this calculated to keep the jury free of exposure to media or accidental information leaks.
“We’ve set up a command center in the lobby, and anything that comes into or out of the sixth floor will go through metal detectors and be visually inspected.”
Jacobi explained that the judge had refused to be locked down but that he had 24/7 security at his home. Caputo thanked Jacobi and left the room. When the meeting ended, Brady took me aside.
“Boxer, I’m putting two cars on your house. We need to know where you are at all times. Don’t go rogue, okay?”
“Right, Brady. But—”
“Don’t tell me you can take care of yourself. Be smart.”
Conklin and I took the first shift on the sixth floor, and I made phone calls.
When I got home that evening, I told my protection detail to wait for me.
I took my warm and sleepy Julie out of her bed and filled Mrs. Rose in on my plan as we gathered toys and a traveling bag. When my bodyguards gave me the all clear, I went back downstairs with my still-sleepy baby in my arms. Mrs. Rose and I strapped her into her car seat in the back. Martha jumped in after us.
Deputy sheriffs took over for our beat cops and escorted me on the long drive to Half Moon Bay. I waited for their okay, and then I parked in my sister’s driveway.
I let Martha out and gently extricated my little girl from the car seat. I hugged her awake. She put her hands in my hair and smiled.
“Mommy?”