Star Witness

chapter Two

“Ouch!” Dani said, cringing at Harte’s words. “A smudge. Great. Thanks for that image.”

“Come on, Dani. Another public defender can be appointed to take your cases until this trial is over. You are in danger and no, I’m not just worried about my case. I’m worried about you.”

Dani sniffed. “Better watch out. Con Delancey will haunt you for consorting with the enemy.”

He shot her an exasperated glance. “Our grandparents’ feud is ancient history. And it was probably just for show anyhow.”

“I can believe Con Delancey was posturing, but my grandfather always fought for what he believed in. That’s why he was—” She swallowed. Why were her emotions so near the surface tonight? Even as the question flitted through her mind, she knew the answer was obvious. Because she’d almost been run down by a car.

Harte held up his hands, palms out. “I’m not suggesting anything different. I just need you to trust me, or I won’t be able to keep you safe.”

Trust him? She knew him. He would do anything to win, just like his grandfather. He’d proven that three years ago. Luckily for her, right now her safety meshed with his ambition. She sighed in exasperation and defeat. “When am I to be incarcerated?”

“Tomorrow morning. I tried to get you in tonight, but they’re full. They’re letting us have the run of the place for the next two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Two weeks sounded like forever. Then the significance of the time frame hit her. “Wait a minute. The trial date’s been set?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you. It was moved forward. It starts Tuesday.”

“Tuesday?” Dani said, shocked. “You mean as in Thursday—” She held up a finger. “Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday?” she continued, counting each day off on a finger. “But we aren’t ready.”

“I know. Tell me about it. Don’t worry. We’ll prep all weekend. Anyhow, the B-and-B has agreed that we can extend your stay for as long as the trial goes on. They’re happy with the weekly rate we offered them.”

“Weekly rate? As long as the trial goes on?” she cried. “No. This is not going to work. I’m going to see the judge and get that order vacated.”

Harte gave her that smile again, the one that looked more like a smirk and made her so angry. “You can try, but ever since I passed the bar, I’m Judge Rossi’s favorite nephew.”

She had to fight to keep her jaw from dropping. Of course he had an uncle who was a judge. Of course he went to him for the order of protection. “So that’s how you managed to get a judge’s signature this time of night. Must be nice to have relatives who will skirt the law for you any time you please.”

His smile faded. “I didn’t skirt the law. I merely called a judge I know rather than picking one from the phone book. You’d have done the same, Madame Public Defender.”

“Fine,” she said grudgingly. “You said it was a bed-and-breakfast? I guess that won’t be too awful. Give me the address. I’ll head over there tomorrow.”

“It’s on Religious Street, between Race and Orange. But as of—” he glanced at the piece of paper he held “—nine forty-three p.m. today, I’m responsible for you. So I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay, okay. Fine.” She held up her hands in surrender. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a bully?”

“Nope. Never.” He cocked his hip to slide the packet back into his pocket.

Dani couldn’t help sneaking a glimpse at the back side of the snug jeans before she stepped around him to open the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He reached over her shoulder to push the door closed, which put him way too close. She caught a faint whiff of something fresh and citrusy as she glanced up at him. She was going to have to get some higher heels. Not being eye-to-eye with him made her feel small.

“Hold it,” he said. “Not so fast. I want to ask you some questions about what happened tonight.”

“I told the police everything. Go read their report.”

“Tell me just exactly what you were doing when the car tried to run you down.”

Dani clenched her teeth. She’d seen that determined glint in his eye before—when they’d faced each other across the courtroom. He’d badger her until he got answers. With a defeated shake of her head, she walked over to the kitchen table and sat. “I’m really tired, so could we make it quick?”

“I’ve got no problem with that.”

She rested her clasped hands on the table and stared at them. “I was late leaving the office. It was probably six-thirty, so by the time I got home it must have been around seven.”

He nodded without speaking.

“I pulled into the driveway, parked and...” She paused. “I walked around to the front of the house to get the mail. The car just popped up out of nowhere. I heard the engine rev, but I didn’t pay any attention to it until the sound kept getting louder and louder.”

“Where were you when you realized the car was coming at you?”

“About ten feet or so from the mailbox.” She wasn’t happy about having to relive those moments. She’d been through them already, she’d had to answer questions about them twice for the police and now Harte was asking the same questions. She pushed her fingers through her hair. “Every single bit of this is in my statement,” she groused.

“You’d already gotten the mail?”

“No. I was walking toward the box.”

“So you realized it was coming at you...”

She nodded. “And I just ran. I don’t even remember jumping up onto the porch.”

“Sounds like it’s a good thing you did.”

She rubbed her wrist. “I do remember the landing. Did you look at the damage?” she asked.

“A little bit. I couldn’t tell a whole lot in the dark, but the front steps are basically splinters now.” He looked at her. “Why? You haven’t?”

She shook her head. “No. As soon as they were finished questioning me, I came inside, took a hot shower and tried to relax. Then I heard you sneaking around.”

He opened his mouth as if to deny again that he’d been sneaking, then apparently changed his mind. “Did you see him?”

“See who? Oh, the driver?” She shook her head. “I barely got a glimpse of the car. The first thing I knew after I started running was that I was on the porch and my wrist and my left hip hurt. And my elbows and knees stung.” She lifted her arm.

Harte frowned at the angry red scrape just under her elbow.

“I sat up and tried to catch the license, but the car was nearly out of sight and I couldn’t make it out.”

“Can you describe the car?” Harte asked.

“It was dark, maybe black.”

“And the shape? The size?”

Dani closed her eyes. “It looked really big, but that might be because it was racing toward me.”

“An SUV?”

She shook her head. “No. It was a—” She gestured. “A regular car. You know, a sedan.”

“Have you ever met Ernest Yeoman?”

Dani shook her head.

“Myron Stamps? Paul Guillame?”

“Come on, Harte. I’ve answered these questions a dozen times. For the police, for the other assistant district attorney and now I’ve got to answer them for you? I’m tired.”

“Humor me,” he said. “I want you to answer as if you’re answering on the stand.”

Dani sighed. “I know Senator Stamps. He used to come over here a lot to talk to Granddad. They’d argue into the night. I’d make coffee for them.”

“What did they argue about?” he asked.

“You know all this,” she groused. “The docks. The Port of New Orleans. Granddad fought for raising tariffs and taxes. He was convinced that lowering tariffs would allow more smuggling through the Port of New Orleans.”

“And Stamps argued against that?”

She nodded. “Sure. He was on Con Delancey’s side.”

“Lower the tariffs to boost revenue and create more jobs,” Harte said.

“Not to mention creating more crime-smuggling contraband and drugs.”

Harte frowned, looking thoughtful. “I’ve never understood that argument. Smuggling by definition is bypassing normal import channels.”

“You’re not that naive, are you? They smuggle the contraband and drugs in with the legally imported items. Sometimes inside them. Higher tariffs cut into their profits, and enforcing the higher tariffs means more port authority officers around.”

Harte nodded. “I know the reasoning. So back to Stamps. You’re saying he and your granddad butted heads on the issue of tariffs, even though your granddad’s position had never changed? I wonder why.”

“Granddad didn’t like Stamps, but he was too polite to refuse to see him. He always said—” Dani stopped. As an attorney, she hated speculation and hearsay. Harte would probably light into her if she started relating her granddad’s opinion of Stamps.

“What?” he asked.

She gave a little shake of her head and made a dismissive gesture.

“Dani, tell me. Anything might be important.”

“Even if defense council would cut me off in a heartbeat for hearsay?”

His eyes softened in amusement. “Tell me and let me decide.”

“It could be considered defamatory.”

“Then definitely tell me.”

Dani covered a yawn with her hand. “Okay. Granddad said that back when he and Con Delancey faced off over the tariff issue, it was a gentleman’s argument between two public servants who genuinely believed in their position. He had a very different opinion about Myron Stamps.”

“Tell me.”

“He was convinced that Stamps was doing it for money.”

“Money? What money? Why haven’t you told me this before?”

She shrugged. “Apparently, when he was first elected, Stamps was all for more stringent controls on the port. Then a few years ago he abruptly shifted positions. Granddad figured somebody got to him.”

Harte took a small notepad out of his pocket and jotted something down. “Somebody as in—?”

Dani drew in a long breath. “I don’t know. I hate to be rude, but I’m really tired.”

He assessed her. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess I forgot that you had an exciting evening. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine. Just exhausted and a little sore. I guess I’ll see you in the morning around what? Nine or ten o’clock? So you can incarcerate me.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Nope. You’ll see me earlier than that. I’ll be staying here tonight.”

“What?” She forced a laugh. “Right. Now, that’s funny.” She walked over to the back door and reached for the knob. But before she could grasp it, he was right there, his hand out, holding it shut.

“Stop that,” she said. “Get out of the way. You need to go home. I’ve got locks. Those people are not going to do anything else tonight—if ever.”

“You can’t know that. There’s no way I’m taking the chance. I told you. The order of protection names me as the responsible party. If you kick me out, I’ll just sleep in my car in your driveway.”

Dani regarded him. His strong jaw was tight. The irritating smile was gone and his brown eyes looked positively black underneath the dark brows. He meant business. She took a step backward and threw her hands out in a helpless gesture.

“Fine, then. Knock yourself out. I hope your car’s comfortable.”

His mouth curled up on one corner. “It’s a Jeep Compass, so it ought to be.”

“Excellent,” she snapped. “I’m glad for you. Good night.”

He started to say something else, but Dani lifted her chin and pressed her lips together. He inclined his head in a brief nod, shot that irritating smile at her one more time and left, pulling the back door closed behind him.

As Dani turned the lock, her hand shook. The fact that Harte was right outside her door, making sure nothing happened to her tonight, should be comforting.

It wasn’t. All it did was provide an omnipresent reminder that, at least according to him, she was in grave danger.

* * *

IN THE DRIVER’S seat of his Jeep, Harte pressed the lever that slid the seat back as far as it would go. He held it until the motor whined, then stretched his legs. He had about two inches more room than he’d had twenty seconds before. “Guess that’s it,” he muttered. Then he reclined the seat back and wriggled his butt, settling in.

He’d bought the Jeep because it drove nicely in the city as well as on dirt roads and hiking paths. He’d never slept in it, but figured it shouldn’t be too bad.

As he searched for a comfortable position, he thought about Dani. He hadn’t expected her to actually banish him to his car for the night. That house was huge. There had to be at least one guest bedroom. Hell, she could have at least offered him a couch.

Still, he supposed he couldn’t blame her for the way she felt about him. The first time they’d met in the courtroom, she as a brand-new public defender and he trying his first case as prosecutor. He’d reacted instantly to her tall, leggy, drop-dead-gorgeous body and eyes that caught the sun just like her hair. But she’d entered the courtroom shooting daggers from those whiskey-colored eyes.

She was undeniably Freeman Canto’s granddaughter. Canto and Con Delancey, Harte’s grandfather, had both been fixtures in the Louisiana state legislature. And they’d clashed on every single issue, most notably the security and tariffs on the Port of New Orleans. Canto was fiscally conservative, while Con Delancey fought to keep both security and tariffs at a minimum to help the working people. And, as Dani had said, they’d conducted themselves as gentlemen. There had been a kind of honor among politicians back then. An unspoken agreement that while the politics might occasionally get dirty, the politicians would not.

The first time he’d faced Dani across the courtroom, Harte hadn’t been completely surprised that she’d shown up prepared for battle, ready to continue the feud between the Cantos and the Delanceys. Her client, the defendant, had been a woman who’d killed her husband, claiming self-defense and fear for her life. But there were no witnesses, no evidence of spousal abuse and the woman had shot the man point-blank.

As Harte fought to win his case, he’d discovered what a great defense attorney Dani was. She was passionate, a dedicated knight battling for her client.

Ultimately, Harte won the verdict, but he’d lost the respect of his opposing counsel. Later he’d found out that Dani had appealed and gotten her client acquitted.

Once he’d gotten more experience under his belt, he’d had to admit she was right. That first case had been a win for him, but it was a Pyrrhic victory. It had taken him a few years and more than a few cases to live down convicting a battered wife.

Their paths hadn’t crossed but a couple of times since then, which had helped keep the instantaneous attraction he’d felt for her the first time he’d seen her at bay. But he’d never forgotten how she’d looked when she’d walked into the courtroom that first day. She’d had on a short skirt and high-heeled shoes that made her legs look a mile long. He’d never forgotten her face, her body or the unconsciously sexy, confident way she moved.

But her body wasn’t all that he’d found sexy about her. She was smart and quick. Across from her in court, he’d quickly found out that as a public defender, she was as tenacious and focused as a terrier.

A cramp in his thigh interrupted his thoughts and he realized he’d been nearly asleep. Rubbing the tight muscle, he considered the irony that he and Dani were on the same side this time. Well, sort of on the same side. She still thought of him as the enemy.

His cell phone rang. It was Lucas.

“How’s your girl?” his oldest brother asked.

“My witness is all right,” Harte responded. “How were the steaks?”

“Great, as usual. We just got home.”

“Really?” He glanced at the time on the display. “Late night for you, at the folks’ house.”

“Not my idea. Ange and Mom were exchanging recipes. I watched a ball game with him.” Lucas never referred to their father as Dad. “I’d planned to talk to you about the info you asked me about.”

Harte sat up. “What’d you find out?”

“Not much. Nothing on the record. Yeoman’s got a fairly clean file. Some small-time stuff early on, but he’s managed to keep his record clean for the last twenty years.”

“His record. What about what’s not on the record?”

“Now, that’s a different story. Every detective has an anecdote about Yeoman getting away clean while one of his goons took the rap.”

“Yeah, that’s basically what I got from Mahoney. There’s got to be somebody out there that Yeoman cheated or framed, who’d jump at the chance to get back at him.”

“I called Dawson the other day and asked him what he knew. I figured he might have run into Yeoman when he was chasing down Tito Vega.”

“And had he?”

“Nope, but he made a couple of calls for me.”

“I hope he’s careful. This is the best chance the D.A.’s ever had to put Yeoman away. We’ve got to be careful about where information comes from.”

“Our cousin’s a good investigator, kid. He knows what he’s doing.”

“I know,” Harte said. “I’m just worried. Yeoman’s hired Felix Drury as his attorney. He’s a shark. He’ll eat us alive if we can’t vet every tidbit of evidence we present.”

“You’re still not sure about Dani, are you?”

With a sigh, Harte rubbed a hand down his face. “I believe she’s telling the truth about what she heard. It’s just hard to take in and it’s going to be harder to convince a jury. She’s linking a respected legislator and a renowned attorney with Yeoman, a thug and a drug dealer. She says her granddad was certain that Senator Stamps was taking bribes to push for lower tariffs on imports. If I can prove that independently, and find a solid connection between Stamps and Yeoman...”

“Are you saying you’re going after Stamps?”

Harte sighed and ran a hand across his five-o’clock—or midnight—stubble. “I don’t know. I need something more than Dani’s hearsay about what she heard that night.”

“Well, Dawson’s info may help. He called a guy he uses part-time—a former drug addict who’s a C.I. these days,” Lucas said. “Apparently, there’s been talk on the street for a long time about Yeoman’s connections in the legislature. Something else that nobody seems willing to talk about openly.”

“That’s all well and good,” Harte said. “But the fact that nobody will come forward with solid information is what keeps the D.A. up nights. Nobody’s ever been able to prove anything.”

“According to Dawson’s C.I., some folks think that connection is Stamps.”

Harte sat up, feeling his pulse speed up. “Why am I just now hearing this?”

“Because I just got it. The C.I. said to check Stamps’s voting record and his bank accounts.”

Harte rubbed his eyes. “I’m already on the voting records. I’ve got an intern tallying his position on every issue under the sun. But I have no cause to subpoena his bank records.”

“You could ask him nicely,” Lucas said wryly.

“Yeah,” Harte responded. “I could toss a pig off a roof too, but the chances of it flying are better than a Louisiana congressman volunteering private financial information.”

His brother laughed. “I’ve got to go. Big day tomorrow.”

“Me too. I’ll get with Dawson tomorrow. I hope he’s got something more solid than a drug addict’s report of a comment heard on a street corner.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m going to need it.”

“G’night, kid.”

Harte hung up and looked at the dashboard clock, although he already knew it was after midnight. As he shifted, trying to find the most comfortable position, headlights appeared at the other end of the street. Harte crouched down in front of the headrest and waited to see what the vehicle did. It slowed down, which accelerated his pulse. Then he heard a garage door open. Peering around, he saw the car disappear into a garage three doors down. He watched until the door closed, then breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed as much as he could.

His thigh threatened to cramp again. Thanks to his long, lanky Delancey body, the Jeep wasn’t going to be as comfortable as he’d hoped it would be. Still, he’d appointed himself Dani Canto’s protector. A little discomfort was a small price to pay to ensure her safety.

But damn, it was going to be a long night.