The Christmas Present

“That’s what the public defender said when he urged me to take the deal they offered. He said I wouldn’t get a better offer.”

“And you probably won’t.” She’d already been over his file—twice—and had familiarized herself with the assistant D.A. who had his case. The man didn’t like to plea-bargain, had only offered to do so on this case because some of the evidence was shaky and Diego was under eighteen. She remembered enough from law school to know that that combination was often good for the defense.

“Not from Gallagher.” And not with the amount of interest the press was taking in this case. If she wasn’t careful, they’d have Diego tried and convicted before any of them ever set foot in a courtroom.

“But I didn’t do anything! I couldn’t hurt Esme. I would never hurt her. Or my baby.” Diego looked as if he was going to cry. “I loved her. We were gonna get married before the baby was born, as soon as I’d saved up enough money to get an apartment for us.”

“It’s all right, Diego. Vivian can’t make you take the plea bargain if you don’t want to.” Rafael shot her a look, one that promised retribution, when she hadn’t done anything wrong. “And he doesn’t want to,” he added in a hard voice.

“I never suggested that he should take the plea bargain. I’m not in the habit of sending innocent boys to jail, no matter what you might think of me, Mr. Cardoza.” She was proud of the icy tone she’d managed, when what she really wanted to do was tell him to go to hell. For someone who had asked for help, he sure didn’t act as if he expected her law firm to be able to deliver.

But then he didn’t know her. Didn’t know that there was no way she could let Diego be convicted if there was some way she could prevent it. Something about his utter vulnerability, the pain he couldn’t hide, struck a chord in her she hadn’t realized existed.

Rafael’s eyebrows rose incredulously. “So you believe him?”

She raised hers in mocking response, completely fed up with the attitude he kept throwing at her. “Don’t you?”

“I would have left him in the hands of that incompetent public defender if I didn’t.” The man’s expression said that he wasn’t sure she was any better, which angered her, even though she agreed with him on a base level. But he didn’t know she wasn’t a defense attorney, so he had no right to his ridiculous opinion. And she refused to apologize for the fact that her life, so far, had been pretty damn good.

Refusing to rise to the bait any more than she already had, Vivian smiled at Diego as Rafael escorted them to a room at the end of the hall that had a table with a bunch of chairs scattered around it. “The first thing I want to know,” she commented, pulling out a notepad to record the conversation, “is how come your P.D. didn’t apply to have the case heard in juvenile court? You’re only sixteen, right?”

“Mr. Williams said the judge wouldn’t move it. The crime was too big a deal and I’m too close to eighteen.”

“‘Close’ only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,” she muttered, shaking her head in disgust. She might not know her way around the criminal justice system the way Diego’s P.D. had, but she recognized laziness when she saw it. “We’re going to give it a shot.”

“Why?” Diego asked. “Wouldn’t it be better to try my case in front of a jury?”

“Who told you that?” she demanded.

“Mr. Williams.”

She shot Rafael a disgusted look. “I take it you’re the one responsible for getting rid of this guy?” she asked.

He snorted. “Every single thing that came out of his mouth struck me as idiotic.”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all evening.” She turned back to Diego, but not before she saw the flash of annoyance in Rafael’s eyes. Good, let him be on the receiving end of the digs for a while. She’d had enough of his nasty attitude and nastier comments. It was past time for her to get a little of her own back.

Resting her hand gently on top of Diego’s, she turned her back on his mentor and said, “The evidence in your case is far from rock solid.”

“Because I didn’t do it.”

“I know,” she answered soothingly. “But that’s why we want you in front of a judge in the juvenile system. Judges look only at the evidence, while juries, despite their best intentions, are often swayed by photographs and emotions.” She made sure she was looking into his eyes before continuing. “The photos in this case are particularly brutal, so—”

“I saw them.” This time he couldn’t hold back the tears.

“When?” she demanded, suddenly furious. “Williams didn’t—”

“No, not him. The police made me look at them, when they questioned me.”

“What did your lawyer say?”

“I didn’t have one then.”

She stared at him. “You were questioned without an attorney? Were your parents there?”

He shrugged. “My family, we’re not real tight like that. I’ve been staying here for the past few months.”

Her gaze shot to Rafael. “Were you there?”

He shook his head grimly. “I was out of town when all this went down. Diego sat in jail for four days until I got back and found out about it.”

“This whole thing has been a joke from start to finish.” Vivian rubbed her hands over her tired eyes. “I need you to walk me through this whole thing.”

“Can’t you just read the file?” Rafael objected. “He’s already told the story a bunch of times.”

“I have read the file, Mr. Cardoza, but I need to hear it from him. Besides, he needs to get used to telling it, as he’ll be saying it again and again—to me, to the judge and to whomever else I deem necessary.”

She turned to Diego. “I know it’s hard to talk about what happened to Esme and your baby, but I need to know everything. Don’t leave anything out, no matter how insignificant you think it might be. At least not now, not with me.”

She held her hand up when Rafael started to protest, and in the steely voice she reserved for deadbeat dads and abusive husbands, said, “You went through a lot of trouble to get my law firm to take this case, so why don’t you cut the guard-dog routine and give me a chance to do my job? Otherwise you should have stayed with Williams.”

“He trusts me and I’m not going to let you waltz in here and turn him inside out for your own enjoyment.”

Her mouth dropped open before she even had a shot at finding her poker face, and she finally felt her temper snap. “My own enjoyment? Look, you jerk, I can think of a lot of things I’d enjoy more than sitting here listening to a child talk about murder, but I don’t have that option. And neither does he. Not if we want to win this thing.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Diego’s eyes widen and his hands clench, and she forced herself to take a few deep breaths as she worked to regain her composure. No matter how she felt about Rafael, Diego trusted him. “I assume that’s what we all want to do, isn’t it?”

Rafael refused to answer, but he didn’t object when she asked Diego, “When was the last time you saw Esme alive?”

He cast an uncertain look at the man, but started to speak when his mentor nodded at him. “About four o’clock, on the day she died.”

“January 12.”

“Yeah. I took her to her doctor, for her checkup. She was six months and pretty big, so he did another ultrasound. Just to check out the baby, you know?”

Vivian nodded and he continued, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the scarred conference table. “But everything was cool. He was growing like he was supposed to, swimming around in that amni—amni—”

“Amniotic fluid,” she supplied.

“Exactly. Esme’s weight was good, her blood pressure, everything. So he sent us home, told us to make an appointment in two weeks.”

“This was at the clinic on Washington, right?” she asked, glancing up.

“Right.” He wiped his hands on his jeans, his foot tapping in the same rhythm his fingers had been following a minute before. “I took her home and then headed over here. I had work.”

“Did you drive her home?”

“I don’t have a car. We took the bus and then I walked with her from the bus stop.”

“Did you see anyone you knew?”