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“But it could, and I’ve tried everything else.”
“Okay. At seven.” She scribbled her home address and phone number on the back of one of her cards and handed it to him. “It’s a condominium complex in the Arts District. I’ll meet you out front.”
He opened the door for her. She hurried past him, as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. He watched as she headed down the hall and to the elevator—her lustrous black hair caressing her slender shoulders, that gray suit skirt ultra conservative but still short enough to show off her shapely calves.
Not the kind of woman you’d expect to utter talk of visions and psychic powers. Whether she was on the up-and-up or this was some kind of dirty scheme, he had no choice but to go along. They were linked together by a daughter he barely knew but would do anything in his power to keep safe.
His thoughts stayed with Lily as he ducked out of the main building and walked back to his own office. He’d find her. And then he’d tear out Maurice Gaspard’s heart with his bare hands and feed it to the rats in the streets.
SEBASTION’S OFFICE DOOR was open a crack. Georgette knocked lightly. “Do you have a minute?” she asked, when he looked up from the manila file folder he had open in front of him.
“Sure, come on in. Actually, I was about to see if you were back. I wanted to talk to you before you left for the weekend.”
“What about?”
“A problem, but let’s hear yours first.” He closed the file and pushed it to the front edge of his desk.
“It’s the disposition from Sara McManus.”
“Is that the Griffith murder trial?”
She nodded. “Sara changes the details every time she tells her story. The defense is going to rip her to shreds if I put her on the stand.”
“Isn’t she your only witness?”
“Yes, but the evidence stands by itself. We don’t have to have a witness.”
“Do you think she actually witnessed the murder?”
“Absolutely.”
“Why?”
“She gets so upset when she describes the actual stabbing that it’s impossible not to believe her.”
“That’s your answer, Georgette.”
“Then you think I should put her on the stand.”
“It’s your call. It’s a matter of whether or not you trust this particular jury.”
“Thanks for the input.” Sebastion was an excellent prosecutor, and she was constantly learning from him. “One other question.”
“Shoot.”
“Have you ever heard of a man named Tanner Harrison?”
“Why?”
“He’s the man who called the ambulance for the prostitute who was beaten to death a few nights ago.”
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