haven’t given up, sweetie. I haven’t forgotten.”
Kate plucked a moist towelette from the container on the dinner tray and used it to dab the saliva from her sister’s chin. “I’m going to find them, Kirs,” she said. “And if it’s the last thing I do, I swear to God I’m going to make them pay for what they did.”
Tossing the towelette into the trash container, Kate closed her eyes, lowered her face into her hands, and wept.
THREE
TUESDAY, JANUARY 24, 9:05 A.M.
By the time her team had assembled in the main conference room at nine o’clock, Kate had already been at the office for two hours. She’d worked into the wee hours the night before, formulating strategy and finessing team assignments. At six A.M., she’d dressed, packed a workout bag, and headed to the gym for a rigorous swim to clear her head.
But despite her careful preparations, her heart was beating a little too fast when she entered the conference room. Her newly assembled team sat at the glossy oval table with legal pads and appointment books spread out in front of them, watching her expectantly.
“Good morning.” She took her seat at the head of the table, snapped opened her slender briefcase, and removed her notes. Scanning her meticulous handwriting, she looked up and studied the team she had handpicked.
Liz Gordon stood at the VCR rack, her face set in concentration as she studied the operating buttons. Her no-nonsense style and ten years of paralegal and research experience would be priceless during a case like this. Since she and Kate were friends, Liz would be not only good moral support but also a liaison of sorts between Kate and the rest of the group if any personnel problems cropped up in the course of the case, which invariably they did.
Her administrative assistant, Sandra Hopkins, was paging through the folder Kate had put together for each of them. She was in her forties with a grown family. The consummate professional, Sandra was efficient and didn’t mind putting in the hours. A good thing, considering the case was going to be a demanding one.
Junior ADA Marissa Riley, who’d begun with the DA’s office the summer before as an intern from SMU, sat across from Sandra in her Banana Republic suit and Nordstrom shoes. Ambitious and smart, Marissa’s fresh perspective and youthful energy would be an asset to the team.
Investigator David Perrine sat slumped in his chair, a Star-bucks coffee and crumpled napkin in front of him. He was in his early thirties, single and ambitious. A tad too cocky, in Kate’s opinion, but he had good instincts and kept his cool under pressure. Kate had worked with him several times in the last few years. Because he was a good investigator, she was able to tolerate his other not-so-desirable traits.
She’d spent half the night preparing for this initial meeting. The rest of the night tossing and turning with a bad case of nerves. Standing before her team, she felt those nerves settling. It was the waiting that always got her. Once she could dig in and get things moving, she was usually fine.
She looked around the room and frowned. “Where’s my second investigator?” She glanced at the legal pad in front of her where she’d jotted names and titles and personal contact information, then at the group. “Frank Matrone.”
The rest of the team looked around the room, shrugging and shaking their heads. Annoyance rose inside Kate. At Frank Matrone for being late for this vital first meeting. And at Mike Shelley for recommending an unproven investigator—a man she’d never met—for the job. Kate had zero tolerance for tardiness. As far as that went, Kate had zero tolerance for any bad work habit. Period.
This meeting was important. It would set the dynamics of the way the team would work together, and was a prime opportunity for her to let her philosophies be known and lay down her expectations, which were high. From here on out, each member of the prosecution team would work
Learning to Kill: Stories