Beyond Justice Read online

  She held up her salad bowl and fork. “I know y’all have plans to make, so I’ll slip upstairs and not interrupt. It was nice to see you again, Andrew.”

  Andrew put a hand on her arm before she could disappear. “You really want to walk away from Emilie’s lasagna for that?” He crinkled his nose and pointed at the bowl of greens.

  Emilie grabbed an extra plate. “There’s plenty, Hayden.”

  Andrew grinned. “Always is. She forgets there’s only two of us.”

  He said it as though these evenings were frequent, but they weren’t. Emilie was as busy as anyone in town, so he’d pounced on her invitation. When they all sat down at the island a few minutes later, he watched Hayden. She looked tired. A good trial would do that, his dad always said. He and Emilie kept a quiet conversation going, with Hayden interjecting now and then.

  She’d made it through law school, and he admired anyone who did that. He’d quit after a semester—but that had more to do with wanting to become his own man rather than an ever-lengthening part of his father’s shadow.

  A phone beeped, and Hayden glanced at hers and frowned.

  “Sorry, but I need to prepare for a meeting in the morning. Nice to see you, Andrew.” She stood and brushed past him with a small smile.

  He watched her cross the living space and head toward the stairs. As she climbed from view he reminded himself that he didn’t have time to feel attracted to anyone right now. Not when Congressman Wesley was gunning for a title change. Anyone he was seen with would end up plastered across the social pages of the Post the next day. Who would willingly sign up for that?

  He turned back to the kitchen and found Emilie smirking at him.

  “I’m not sure you’re her type, Andrew.” Her smile widened until her dimples showed.

  He made a face at her. “Don’t think I don’t see right through you. I know why you had me meet you here.” He was just surprised it had taken this long. “It doesn’t matter. I’m too busy to get involved right now.”

  JANUARY

  His cell phone rang.

  The noise blared in the silence of the flea-bitten, no-name motel room. He was safe here. He couldn’t go back to Mexico without that flash drive.

  The phone rang again and his hands shook.

  He had to answer it, but then he would have to confirm Miguel’s death.

  He hadn’t wanted Miguel to die.

  Even now adrenaline shocked his body when he thought of it.

  He had killed a young man.

  A man who had been as close as a brother.

  The phone rang again.

  Hours had faded into days as Rafael tried to find a way to stay alive.

  El jefe must know what he had done by now. Rafael had followed his orders, but without the prize, his days were still numbered. How could he hope to stay ahead of the family leader?

  He must become as ruthless as the man two steps behind him.

  Hesitate one moment, one second, one breath, and the man would be on him with the full power of the family.

  The cell phone fell silent, the quiet almost as shocking as the former noise.

  He would destroy this phone, get a new one. He should have done that the moment he escaped the detention center where he had found Miguel. It had taken all his skill to work his way out as the alarm rose behind him. El jefe didn’t care . . . not without the precious information on that flash drive

  Time was what he needed most. Time to formulate a plan. Time to find what Miguel had taken. Time to redeem himself so he could live.

  The phone resumed its incessant ringing.

  Rafael took a deep breath and picked it up.

  CHAPTER 2

  FRIDAY, MARCH 31

  Early morning found Hayden in her office at Elliott & Johnson. It was little more than a closet, but it was better than the spaces new associates shared.

  A light knock pulled her gaze from the spreadsheet on her desk to the doorway. Gerard Campbell, a partner and her boss, stood there without his usual suit coat and tie. Must be too early to present the perfect corporate image to the mainly empty halls. “Got a minute?”

  As if she could tell him no. “Sure.”

  “I’ve got a case I’m kicking your way this morning.” His eyes bored into her as if gauging her mettle.

  Hadn’t she already proven it?

  “Okay.” Her cases were routinely assigned unless she brought in the client herself.

  “This one has potential. The kind that can make your reputation. Or destroy it.” His stare held her captive. “Do you have the time?”

  And guts was the unspoken rest of the sentence.

  She swallowed at the implied warning. “As much as you ever give me.” She softened the words with a small smile.

  Hayden was bone-weary after the trial and had anticipated spending the rest of the week managing discovery for a couple cases. Leigh, her paralegal, had updated her schedule and brought in the spreadsheet of deadlines for her review just moments before. Three pending cases, none urgent.

  “We’ll meet immediately after the others agree it’s yours.”

  So much for catching her breath.

  Gerard took a step out before turning back. “Good job yesterday. The Commonwealth’s office told me about your daring call. Pretty risky.”

  “It worked.”

  “This time.” He studied her. “Your gut is good, but don’t get cocky. Instincts have taken down many bright attorneys.”

  Hayden rocked back in her chair as he left. He’d followed her case? The partners barely tolerated her court-appointed cases, and some claimed they stole from her billable hours—even though everyone knew she worked them after hours.

  But “tolerated” didn’t mean they monitored her trials. As long as it didn’t cost them anything, they’d let her run them as she liked.

  So why had Gerard called the Commonwealth attorney’s office?

  An hour later she shifted against a chair in the large conference room and sipped her English breakfast tea as the meeting of partners and select associates droned on. She’d have gladly avoided it if Gerard hadn’t told her to attend.

  Donald Elliott chaired the regular meeting with his typical firm hand that matched the meticulous cut of his suit and perfectly coiffed white hair. The man was a legend, a founding partner of the firm, and though he regularly threatened to spend more time on the golf course, he hadn’t slowed down yet. “Next up, Rodriguez v. United States. This one’s yours, Campbell.”

  Gerard leaned forward until his elbows rested on the table. His tablet device rested next to him, but he ignored it. His gaze flicked toward Hayden, then back to the partners and senior associates sitting around the gleaming walnut table. “I filed the Rodriguez complaint last week. Now it’s time to kick the investigation into focus. This is the perfect case for an associate, and yesterday McCarthy confirmed she’s the one to run it.”

  This was the first time Gerard had championed her and not Angela Thrasher, his usual pick.

  Hayden straightened as she listened to the partners discuss his suggestion.

  “Her criminal experience is different. How does this one match?” Reed Johnson leaned back and crossed his arms. He was known for his bulldog tenacity, but he focused on the rare appeals the firm filed when clients pushed for a second try, so his opinion carried weight.

  “Her court appointed cases gave her experience in a place she was expected to fail. You should have seen her at this week’s trial.”

  Elliott raised an eyebrow at Gerard. “I didn’t realize you were at court.”

  “I wasn’t, but I heard the reviews. The Commonwealth thought they had her client on all counts. He walked. All because she took a daring risk.”

  “Our daring risk was letting you take this client.” Johnson’s frown deepened as he studied Campbell. “It’s an unnecessary risk.”

  “Remember, Jason Randolph brought the client. I agreed to litigate the case.”

  Elliott shook his head. “Rand
olph was ambitious to take the case.”

  Gerard shrugged. “We disagree on the risk. We took the client, and she requires our best efforts. All of us at this table are too busy. This is one for Hayden—she’s ready.”

  Johnson snorted and shook his head. “You don’t want this quagmire.”

  Hayden silently watched the exchange, questions piling up in her mind, noting Randolph’s silence. Sounded like Randolph had scored the client and handed Gerard the case, which he now wanted to shunt to Hayden. That wasn’t his usual style.

  Seth Jamison, another associate, elbowed her and leaned close, his stringy hair falling into his eyes. “Told you they were grooming you.”

  She gave a small nod.

  Elliott shook his head. “You do like to toss them in the deep end.” He glanced around the table. “Everyone okay with it?” He must have seen whatever he looked for. “Fine, she can have it, but you’ll manage her, Gerard. Get her up to speed.”

  Seth gave Hayden a sideways fist bump below the table. “Here’s your chance, McCarthy.”

  She let a smile escape even as her heart whispered a warning. The cases the firm worked often lacked the cry for justice that motivated Hayden, and she wondered if this one would be different. But in the end, it didn’t really matter. She’d still give it her best efforts.

  A few minutes later the meeting wrapped up with a flurry of noise and paper shuffling. Gerard barely looked at her as he nodded toward the door. “Come with me, McCarthy.”

  “Yes sir.” She deposited her mug on the waiting tray and followed him into the hallway. Gerard’s cell phone rang, and she paused a couple steps behind him, giving him the illusion of privacy.

  “Good luck.” Angela sidled closer, accordion folders stacked in her arms. The gilded associate always looked like she had somewhere important to be and urgent matters to resolve—most likely because she usually did. “I’ve heard this case is a loser, so if you turn it around you’ll be a hero.”

  Hayden considered her comment. “The partners don’t accept losers.”

  “Sometimes they have to.”

  Hayden could think of a case or two the firm had taken solely to keep important clients happy. Was this one? “Guess I’ll find out.”

  Gerard stuck his phone back in his pocket and continued toward his office.

  Angela stalled Hayden with a perfectly manicured hand and looked down the hall before lowering her voice. “Just be careful. There’s something about this case.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not sure. But I’ve heard rumblings.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up.” Hayden took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Angela had been in law school with her and graduated summa cum laude. If something about the case bothered her, Hayden would take note. At the same time, this opportunity would let her demonstrate what she could accomplish.

  “Coming, McCarthy?” Gerard’s voice pulled her attention.

  “Right behind you.”

  Gerard had a large office with a bank of windows overlooking King Street, currently offering a view of busy traffic and a tour guide trying to corral a collection of schoolchildren. The windows bathed his office in a rich light the burgundy drapes couldn’t restrain.

  He hung his suit coat on a hook behind his door, then settled in his chair and tugged his shirt cuffs into place. Hayden lingered in the doorway, wondering if she should sit or stand.

  “Come in, Hayden. This will take a minute.” He gestured toward the leather chairs in front of his desk and pushed a fat expandable folder toward her. “Here’s your new case.”

  “Thank you.” She picked up the file and felt its heft. “Why are you handing it off?”

  He studied her, gaze intense and focused. “The client is a woman, Hispanic, whose son was killed in Texas while detained by an alphabet soup of federal agencies. She passionately sold me on the evil done to her son. Now she’s stopped communicating. We can’t win without her cooperation.” He rubbed a hand across his chin and shifted in his chair. “At the same time, any delay has negative implications.”

  The words settled around Hayden, lacing the air with the weight of caution. She flipped through the file, reading the section labels. “You filed last week?”

  “Yes.”

  Interesting. “What makes it urgent?”

  He steepled his fingers. “This isn’t a case the feds want in the press—and it’s not one we want before a Texas jury.”

  “Why was he detained?” Hayden pulled a legal pad out of the file and jotted notes.

  “Entering the country illegally. He was under eighteen when Border Patrol nabbed him, so the government placed him in a juvenile facility. The partners accepted the case, but they want it settled or killed, so get discovery started. Yesterday would be fast enough.”

  “Okay.” She cleared her rapidly closing throat as she rifled through the stack of files.

  Gerard swiveled toward the mahogany credenza behind his desk. Lifting a single folder, he turned around and opened it on top of his desk. “One other thing. The case is in the wrong court.”

  “You filed last week, and it’s in the wrong court?”

  “After the boy was killed in custody, the mom was in my office within a month. She got referred to us through Randolph. The partners see the potential for more cases like this if we win. I filed the Federal Tort Claims Act claim with the ICE, Border Patrol, basically every agency I could think of. All were quickly denied. In some cases, the paperwork couldn’t have even left the desk of the person who opened the mail. What that did is give us access to court, and my client wanted it filed. That lined up with the collective brain here, but as I said, a Texas jury will kill us.” He studied her a moment, giving space for his words to sink in. “I’m too close, and it’s time to bring you in. I want an unbiased opinion Monday morning.”

  “You said wrongful death?” Had to be, if he’d worried about tort claims.

  “Yes.” He watched her carefully.

  “If it’s wrongful death, your options are a federal district court or state court. Either one comes with a jury.” The government would be crazy not to request one, with immigration as hot a topic as it was.

  “Yes.”

  “You need a court like the Court of Claims.” She tapped the top of the expandable folder as her thoughts raced through options. “No, that won’t work.” That court heard contract, tax, takings, and employment disputes against the federal government. Negligence didn’t fit the court’s limited jurisdiction.

  “Don’t be too quick to dismiss the idea.” He looked past her shoulder as if formulating an idea. “Use some of that fancy legal know-how you earned in your clerkship. This kid deserves justice, but without us he won’t get it. We have to find a way to get our day in court here. Maybe get your judge’s opinion.”

  “I can’t—” It pushed too close to the ethical line.

  He waved her words away as if they were inconsequential gnats. “Of course. Forget I said that.”

  He paused, and Hayden rushed in. “What if instead of wrongful death we style it as a breach of contract since he was in ICE custody? An implied contract of sorts. You detain these kids, you must provide a safe space.”

  Gerard considered her words, his fingers steepled beneath his chin, and a slow smile grew. “It could work brilliantly, or it could implode—this is why I wanted you on the case. Your clerkship means the judges know you.” He rattled off a few more details, while Hayden took careful notes. “We’ve requested the kid’s belongings. I’m hoping we’ll find something worth the expense. Speaking of which, this case is burning through the retainer. Once that’s gone, the partners want the case gone.”

  “The client won’t provide more?”

  “Nope.” He closed the file in front of him and handed it to her. “This has the mom’s contact information. Find a way to connect with her.” He clasped his hands on top of the blotter. “If we win, this theory could open a floodgate of cases. So do your job well.”
He studied her, and Hayden held his gaze. His phone rang and he grabbed it while waving her toward the door.

  Hayden collected the accordion file with the contact file on top and left, shutting the door behind her. The files felt heavy, light, awkward, but right . . . all at the same time.

  Angela was waiting, perched on Hayden’s desk, when she got back to her office. “So?”

  Hayden sank onto her chair, setting the files on the desk. “I don’t know.”

  “A partner calls you into his office for a big case and you ‘don’t know’?”

  “He wants discovery started yesterday and the case moved to a new court. And this is what I have.” She waved at the file.

  Angela snorted. “That sounds right. The case involves wrongful death?”

  “Yes, but a jury will kill us in Texas, so I need to move it.”

  “Federal government as defendant?”

  “Yes. So move it to DC, but a jury here won’t be much more sympathetic.” Maybe the Court of Federal Claims was the best option. She’d have to refresh her memory, but it would be a stretch to get a wrongful death case there. Still, she could develop the breach of contract angle. All she knew for certain was that it was critical to move it from Texas. “I assumed it would be a small case, something too little for Gerard to bother with. But he claims it could open a new area of litigation for the firm.”

  “I’ll leave you to it.” Angela pushed to her feet. “Let me know if I can help.”

  When the cleaning crew came through the office hours later, Hayden packed the accordion file into her bag. She’d managed to read through it, but had been interrupted to put out fires on other cases. Now her stomach insisted she grab dinner. She’d take the file and leave another message for the client, since her earlier call hadn’t been returned.

  Might as well try one more time.

  As it had before, the phone rang repeatedly. About the time Hayden expected to leave a voice mail, she heard a soft voice. “Hola?”

  “Mrs. Rodriguez?”