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“You mean of getting off free?”
Taylor nodded.
“Absolutely none. You don’t know the woman you attacked. You had no prior history with her. You crossed state lines with a weapon, and with one purpose...to kill her, and they have that on video, am I right?”
Taylor glared.
“Am I right?” Fielding asked again.
Barrett Taylor leaned forward, his voice shaking with anger.
“Yes, you’re right. But she is an abomination in the eyes of God. The Righteous have a duty to the world to rid it of alien life forms.”
Marsh Fielding blinked.
“As your lawyer, I would advise you to keep that opinion to yourself. And just between us, how many alien life forms have you previously dispensed with?”
“Me personally? She would have been my first,” Taylor said.
Marsh shuddered, reminding himself that everyone deserved representation in a court of law.
“Okay. Just making sure I know what we’re dealing with. So how are you going to plead?”
“Not guilty,” Taylor said. “I know how the system works. The judge will hear my plea. Then there’ll be a hearing to set bail, and—”
Fielding interrupted, “You know as well as I do that a judge can refuse that. The DA can use your track record and the cold manner in which you stalked her as a reason to deny bail. Also, they may consider you a flight risk. If that’s the case, you won’t get out before your trial, which could be months, sometimes more than a year. Just so you know.”
“That’s not fair!” Taylor shouted, then looked around the small conference room and lowered his voice. “That’s not right.”
“Well, neither is murder. What you did is frowned upon in this country. You aren’t allowed to decide who lives or dies. You made an attempt on someone’s life, and it was caught on video. I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but your attempt on Jade Wyrick’s life pissed off some important people. You tried to kill a woman who is, at this moment in time, the single, most famous woman on the planet. And you got caught doing it. By her. I’ll see what I can do tomorrow, but don’t expect miracles.”
Taylor slumped where he sat. So much for trying out religion. It didn’t feel so good anymore.
Wyrick was still running background checks on Rachel Dean when Charlie left. She’d reminded him that they could have the food delivered, but Charlie wanted to get it because he said it was quicker. The truth was that Charlie didn’t like sitting behind a desk, and when they weren’t out on a case, he was doomed to desk work. As for reading the background she was getting on Rachel, it was like reading a bio of a woman’s fast track to success.
Rachel graduated from Memorial High School in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and was at Tulsa University when her parents were killed in an accident. After her parents’ deaths, her sister, Millie, and her husband, Ray Chriss, moved Rachel in with them and helped her finish college. Her degree was a Bachelor of Arts, majoring in business, and minoring in marketing and advertising, and she was hired straight out of college by Addison-Tunnell, an advertising company in Dallas. She had worked her way up to ad executive, with a growing list of clients.
As far as Wyrick could tell, Rachel’s only serious romance was in college, and it ended when her parents were killed. From what she’d learned so far, Rachel’s focus was on her career, and not a relationship.
But none of this information ruled out unknown stalkers, or being the victim of a random act of violence. She was still running searches when Charlie came back with lunch.
She heard the key in the lock and knew it had to be him, but she was still jumpy enough from the attempt on her life to reach for her Taser.
Then the door swung inward and he walked in with their lunch in a bag.
“Don’t shoot. I bring offerings of roast beef and horseradish,” he said and kicked the door shut behind him.
“Let’s eat at the conference table in my office. It’s nice outside today. At least we can look at it from there.”
She nodded, then washed up in her private bathroom before following him into the office. He was at the wet bar.
“I’m assuming you want a Pepsi,” he said.
“Please,” she said and sat down, letting Charlie dispense the food from the sack after he came back. She pulled a curly fry from the container and popped it into her mouth, savoring the salty taste as she chewed. “Thanks for lunch,” she added.
“Tax deduction,” he said.
She glared.