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

high-powered race cars. Racing was supposed to be his hobby. Carolyn thought it was more than that. He worked to occupy himself between races. His father had left him some money, and Brad had invested it wisely, earning ample funds to pursue his outside interests. A nonstop bundle of energy, he was able to handle twice as much work as the normal individual. Even with the demands of the job, his cars, his women, and his partying, Brad was always looking for something new and exciting. Carolyn recalled the nights she’d spent in his bed. When their bodies had connected, she felt as if she’d plugged herself into a wall outlet.
    “How do I look?” he said. “Is my tie crooked?”
    Out of habit, Carolyn walked over and redid the knot. She caught a whiff of his aftershave as she looked into his eyes and gathered his tie in her hands. “Continue Brubaker or I’ll strangle you.”
    “Yeah, yeah,” Brad told her. “I already did. The hearing is set for January fifth at three o’clock.” As Carolyn proceeded to fix his tie, he added, “As for Moreno, I’ll get all the trial transcripts and pertinent evidence moved to your office. If you think it’s necessary, we’ll send it home with you. That way, you can work without interruption until the report is ready to be dictated. The most vital thing was the interview with the defendant and you’ve already got that in the bag. I thought Veronica had already contacted the victims’ relatives. From what she just told me, she didn’t get a chance to speak to the mother’s sister.”
    She snapped, “Why weren’t you straight with me about Brubaker?”
    “Ah,” Brad said, smiling again. “Then I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy our scintillating conversation. You look great in that suit. New, huh?”
    “You’re an asshole,” Carolyn said, storming out of his office.
     
     
    Carolyn sat at her desk with her head in her hands. She was so far behind, she would never catch up. The only way a probation officer could stay on top was to forge ahead each day. It was similar to climbing a ladder inside of a house with no ceiling. Every day, new cases were dumped in her basket. Brad Preston sat in his office and assigned them with the speed and efficiency of a Las Vegas dealer.
    A clerk appeared in her doorway, pushing a dolly loaded with boxes. “Is that all?” she asked, telling him to stack them in the corner.
    “Are you kidding?” the young man said, letting the dolly hit the floor with a thud. “I’ve got two more loads of this stuff. Preston said if I ran out of room, I could stash the rest in Veronica Campbell’s office. I just picked up the same boxes from her yesterday. I’ve only been working here six weeks,” he continued, straining as he lifted the boxes off the dolly. “Is this some kind of a test?”
    Veronica worked in the partitioned space next to Carolyn. She’d have to call her friend at the hospital and get the password to her computer so she could retrieve the rest of the work she’d done on the case.
    Carolyn’s phone rang. She heard the gravelly voice of Detective Hank Sawyer.
    “Homicide is throwing a last-minute Christmas party tonight,” he said. “Wondered if you wanted to join us?”
    “I can’t, Hank,” Carolyn said. “I caught Moreno this morning. The sentencing hearing is tomorrow.”
    “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
    “No,” she said. “I’ll probably need to speak to you this afternoon or later this evening. If you go to the party, be sure you don’t drink.” Before he bit her head off, she added, “This has nothing to do with your history. I would have said the same thing to someone else.” Sawyer was a recovering alcoholic and could be touchy about it.
    He paused before speaking and she could sense his irritation. “How could that prick, Preston, have dumped Moreno on you? We’ve been pressured from the beginning because the DA cut him a deal. The guy has only been in custody since November eighteenth.