Sullivan's Justice by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg Read Free Book Online

heard you dropped out of law school. Is that true?”
    “I didn’t drop out for good. I just took a semester off.”
    “The type of work we do is specific,” Brad said, turning his attention back to the matter at hand. “What would you do if you lost this job? I guess you could find some low-level position at the DA’s office. I hear they’re looking for help at the women’s jail.”
    Carolyn’s jaw locked. She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. She started to tell him that she’d managed to get Moreno to talk, then decided to forget it. Later, she might have something worthwhile to tell him. “Do you have Veronica’s file?”
    He tapped a thick folder on the edge of his desk, waiting until she walked over. When she turned around, she felt his hand on her buttocks. As of that moment, Carolyn knew she had a legitimate case of sexual harassment. She didn’t have time to think about it, though. Her skin was hot, almost as if she’d come down with a fever. Brad knew her. She might complain, but she would never let a less experienced officer handle crimes this serious.
    “I’ll need a progress report every hour. I’m sending Rogers to represent you on the Brubaker matter.” Brad’s phone rang and he answered it, gesturing to Carolyn to wait until he was finished.
    “Yeah,” he said, “we’re taking care of Moreno.” Cupping his hand over the phone, he whispered to Carolyn, “It’s a girl. The kid was born an hour ago. Six pounds, three ounces.”
    “Is that Drew?” Carolyn asked, assuming he was speaking to Veronica’s husband.
    “No,” Brad told her, “it’s Veronica. She’s high as a kite. Maybe that’s why she keeps popping out a baby every nine months. She likes the drugs.” He hung up and thumbed through some paperwork on his desk.
    “Rogers can’t represent me with only an hour’s notice. Brubaker mowed down eleven people,” Carolyn said. “It took us three years to get a conviction.”
    “Vehicular manslaughter is a long way from murdering an entire family,” Brad said, making a paper airplane and sailing it over her head. “You beat me up or I would have never allowed you to recommend a prison sentence for Brubaker. Everyone knows it was an accident. The DA waited so long to file because they thought the old fart would croak and they wouldn’t have to deal with it. The city was responsible. There were no official road signs at the street market.”
    “After he hit the first person, he made no attempt to stop,” Carolyn said, shaking her head in disagreement. A strand of hair ended up near her nose and she blew it off. “I talked to Brubaker on four different occasions. He looks like a sweet old man, but he’s not. He was terrified of losing his license. What he did falls clearly under the guidelines for vehicular homicide.”
    Brad sighed, then said loudly, “The guy panicked and stepped on the gas instead of the brake. I’m sick of this case. You’ve got Moreno. Stop wasting my time.”
    “Brubaker was negligent,” Carolyn said, refusing to weaken. “Eighty-five-year-old people shouldn’t drive. I don’t care who the signs belonged to, you’d have to be insane to drive through a crowd of people like that without stopping. Bodies were bouncing off his car like basketballs.”
    “Write a letter to your congressman. Brubaker had a current license issued by the state of California. He generally didn’t go out on Wednesdays because that’s the day his housekeeper comes and he enjoys her company. He wasn’t aware he couldn’t use the street. It’s open every day except Wednesdays when they have the market.” Brad stood and picked up his jacket off the back of his chair. “I’m late to a meeting. You got your ten-year prison sentence. I feel sorry for the guy. Old age is the ultimate humiliation.”
    Brad slipped his arms into his expensive Italian jacket, then adjusted his tie. Behind his desk were framed photographs of him standing in front of