Contempt of Court (Final Verdict #2)

Tainted Evidence （n.） – Jameson

TAINTED EVIDENCE (N.):

IN A CRIMINAL TRIAL, INFORMATION WHICH HAS BEEN OBTAINED BY ILLEGAL MEANS OR HAS BEEN TRACED THROUGH EVIDENCE ACQUIRED BY ILLEGAL SEARCH AND/OR SEIZURE.

JAMESON

The best liars in this world are the ones who don’t know they’re lying.

They’re so committed to the role they’re playing that they actually believe they’ve become someone else. And no matter how many times you try to show them reality, they refuse to take off their masks.

They’re incapable of stepping off the stage.

“Scarlett Winters,” though?

She’s a fucking terrible liar.

And her real last name is apparently “Hunter” like her father’s…

The slight clench of her jaw, the flash of “please believe me” in her irises, and the soft stutter before she serves certain sentences—her lying is some of the most obvious I’ve ever seen.

What’s different about her lying is the timing—the way her bombs drop in the silence and derail the peaceful ride that came before.

I’m now convinced that she just frolics through life lying for fun.

She’s not even getting paid for it.

I look over at where her father—my client—is staring at her and try to mentally rewind the words he just said. To see if maybe—just maybe—I misheard them.

“She’s my daughter…”

“Is this my karma of some sort?” I ask. “I’ve heard it doesn’t usually work this fast.”

“Huh?” Lucas looks at me. “What did you say, Mr. Tate?”

“I was talking to myself out loud,” I say. “Ignore me.”

He shoots me a confused look before returning his attention to Scarlett.

“Now isn’t a good time for us to talk,” he says to her. “I’m meeting with a special lawyer about some business, and I’m sure you can see that…”

“Yes.” Her cheeks flush red as she trails off. “I can see that.”

“Well, leave us to it then.” He flicks his wrist, flashing a million-dollar watch that looks similar to one of mine. “I’ll deal with you once we’re finished here.”

As will I…

She stands still, not moving.

“Scarlett.” He narrows his eyes at her. “Leave the room so we can start our meeting.”

“I was hoping I could stay—to maybe help?” She slightly stutters. “Since I’ll be a part of the family business someday, I can take notes.”

“That’ll be years from now.” His expression softens, but he walks to the door and opens it. “Out.”

She shoots an “I’m so sorry” look at me before leaving the room.

Her father locks the door.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “My daughter can be quite unpredictable at times.”

“I’m unfortunately aware.”

“How?” He arches a brow. “Have you met her before today?”

Fuck. “No. I was just agreeing to be agreeable.”

“Interesting.” He looks like he doesn’t believe me, but there’s no way in hell I’m addressing anything Scarlett-related for the rest of the day.

“Go ahead and tell me everything you need my firm to work on for you, Lucas,” I say, taking a seat. “Don’t skip over any details.”

“I would never.” He sits across from me, tapping his fingers against the wood-grain table like usual, taking his precious time as if his is more valuable than mine.

“An undercover detective is watching my every move these days,” he says finally. “Actually, there are three of them.”

“I’m sure you’re not surprised by that.”

“I’m not.” He smiles. “But with these new charges and three of my real men having to lay low for a while, I need some new people I can trust.”

“This is a law firm, Lucas,” I say. “Not a staffing agency.”

“I need you to see to it that no one gets in trouble when these undercover detectives are mysteriously beaten to within an inch of their lives sometime this weekend.”

Jesus Christ... I stare at him.

“It’s been quite fun toying with them and pretending like I don’t know what they’re up to,” he says, “but I have a real empire to run, and I can’t afford to waste any more time.”

“I told you to stop giving me advance notice on you committing crimes.” I hold back a sigh. “I like to pretend that you’re somewhat innocent.”

“I am.” He smiles. “I’ve never been convicted of a crime. I don’t even have a parking ticket.”

“Is that all you need?” I ask. “Help with assault charges?”

“If they get caught.”

They will…

“Fine. Anything else?”

“Two more things.” He nods and pulls out something from his breast pocket, sliding it to me.

“First, I think someone might be stealing from my daughter,” he says. “I think that—”

“Today’s the first day I’m realizing you have a daughter.” I can’t help but interrupt. “I know about your sons, but you’ve never mentioned her once. Why?”

“Because she’s a disappointment.” There’s a harshness in his tone. “At least, she has been for a while, and I don’t like discussing my weaknesses.”

I sit up, slightly offended and confused at the same time.

“My daughter—unfortunately—is a naive dreamer who still sees the world in black and white.” He shakes his head. “She has no idea about the grayness you and I operate in, and she thinks she still has a chance at being a stage actress someday.”

“She doesn’t?”

“Funny, Mr. Tate.” He flexes his fingers. “You think any family member of mine could ever be in the public eye?”

There’s no need for me to answer that question.

“Anyway,” he says, picking up where he left off, “a couple checks I sent to her for books and such were cashed at some check-cashing place with a floating address. I need you to look into it, so I can make sure this person never tries me again.”

“This person” is your daughter… “I’ll get Rachel on that right away.”

“Second thing,” he continues, “there may be some federal racketeering charges coming for my sons soon.”

“May be?” I ask. “Those usually come with an indictment…”

“Let’s just say I have an inside tip,” he says. “I don’t want to see any of my sons in prison for what I asked them to do.”

Then stop committing fucking crimes…

“So, I’ll, uh, have someone ride over with briefcases of everything I’ve heard and things that may possibly come up with a grand jury in the coming weeks.”

I hold back a sigh.

I hate this man as a client, but I love what he represents.

A chance at winning something nearly impossible, a chance at reaching a promise I made years ago. But more importantly, a way to fuck the system over like it fucked me…

“If your sons get indicted by the feds, expect the judge to make them give up their passports until the official trial,” I say.

“Three steps ahead of you.” He pulls the booklets from his jacket and slides them across the table. “Can you push hard to make sure they remain out on bond until then as well?”

“Always.”

An uneasy silence fills the room, and this is usually the part where we shake hands and move on, but I can’t.

There’s something he’s not telling me, and there’s a lot more I’m not telling him.

How much does Scarlett know about what you really do for a living?

I’m tempted to ask him, but he clears his throat before I can say a word.

“You look like there’s something more we need to discuss,” he says. “What do you need from me?”

“I’ll need a team of fifty dedicated to just your cases.”

“Don’t you employ over two hundred people?”

“I have tons of other clients, Lucas.”

“How many are paying you a ten-million-dollar retainer?”

“This isn’t about money…”

“It has to be.” He shrugs. “I’ll pay whatever it costs for you to handle things, and you know it. What am I missing?”

“Give me one minute.” I stand up from the table and walk to the windows on the far side of the room.

Outside, Scarlett is pacing between two lampposts—her hair fluttering in the wind as she bites down hard on her bottom lip.

For a moment, I consider that she might’ve had a reason to feed me deception. Hell, for every lie he gave me, I could counter with ten I gave her, so maybe—just maybe—it makes me a bit of a hypocrite.

Perhaps there’s something we can salvage.

I watch her make another turn, and my chest tightens as she presses her hand against the sapphire charm I gave her.

There’s nowhere we can possibly go after this…

I shut the blinds and turn around.

“I need every single detail, Mr. Lucas,” I say. “I want your phone records, emails, everything you think the feds might use against you.”

“That’ll take hours, Mr. Tate.”

“Then I suggest you get comfortable.” I cross my arms. “Would you like some coffee?”

A slow smile forms on his lips, and he pulls out his cell phone.

“Allow me to make a few calls…”

It’s ten o’clock in the evening by the time he’s finished having various men drop briefcases and files off in my boardroom.

I’ve recorded his every word, listened to his phone calls with his various “business friends,” and after running down my list of questions, it’s obvious he and his sons are guilty as hell of every charge that will come their way.

“I appreciate your time as always, Jameson Tate.” He extends his hand, and I shake it.

“I’ll be in touch, Lucas.”

“Perhaps when you’re done with all this”—he walks to my door and opens it—“you can finally let me introduce you to my therapist.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can tell you still don’t get much sleep.” He points to his eyes.

“I sleep just fine. Four hours a night.”

“I had that problem too.” He pauses. “But not anymore.”

“I highly doubt what keeps me up at night can be cured, but I appreciate the offer.”

He nods and finally leaves.

When I’m sure he’s gone, I secure all the files inside a hidden wall panel. Then I walk down the hall to my office and lock myself inside.

I pull out the case that’s kept me up every night, year after year, because the jury came back with the wrong verdict.

Running my fingers over the words “guilty on all charges,” I stop before I can make this day any worse than it already is.

I need to focus on “winning” and doing whatever it takes to hear “not guilty.”

I’ll never let anything—or anyone—distract me ever again…