State's Evidence by R. Barri Flowers

From the Publisher

In Eagles Landing, California, Assistant District Attorney Beverly Mendoza has been selected to prosecute a disturbing case: the brutal murder of a local judge and the rape of his wife. The defendant, Rafael Santiago, once vowed to get revenge against the judge for sending him to prison, and the judge's wife picked him out of a line-up. It seems like an open-and-shut case. But appearances can be very deceiving.

At the same time, homicide detective Stone Palmer is investigating the rape and strangling of a young woman. Career criminal Manuel Gonzalez is in custody for the crime, but he pulls the rug out from everyone when he claims he's the one who murdered the judge. Could it be a case of mistaken identity? Or two desperate, violent men out to manipulate and beat the system?

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State's Evidence

Dorchester Publishing

All right reserved.

ISBN: 0-8439-5571-6

Chapter One

He could have taken her any time he wanted, crushing her
pretty skull between his strong, calloused hands, as easily as
one might flatten a piece of dough. But it was more fun and
stimulating to bide his time like a shark might before going
after a helpless fish. Or even a human. He knew exactly where
she was every minute of the day.

And night.

Why rush a good thing?

He considered killing a person a work of art. Like the Mona
Lisa. It required skill, finesse, courage, determination, and
a vision.

He had been born with these talents thirty-two years ago in
East L.A.'s Latino community. Surviving the mean streets there
had required every bit of his artistic skills, and then some.
With his mama a whore and his daddy a wife-abusing heroin
addict, he had literally been left to fend for himself as
early as he could remember.

Joining a gang had allowed him to sharpen his skills. He
imagined he had taken out or seriously injured maybe a dozen
or more rival gang members by the time he was fifteen. He
considered it all in a day's work. It was either them orhim.
Which was a real no-brainer.

But he knew he was going nowhere fast in L.A.'s war zone.
Between the rival Latino gangs and the black gang bangers
fighting for territory, respect, or just for the hell of it,
he saw no future there. Sooner or later he figured a bullet or
blade would have his name written on it in blood-unless he
quit while he was ahead.

Which was precisely why he had given up the hood and gang life
and fled the city before he turned eighteen. He ended up in
Northern California in a town called Eagles Landing. By
comparison to the urban jungle he'd left behind, it was fairly
laid back and boring as hell.

Still he didn't miss his homeboys one bit. No damned way!

He'd hooked up with distant relatives and was cool with a few
dudes in Eagles Landing.

But even that was fleeting. It didn't take long for him to
realize he operated much better on his own, apart from keeping
a roof over his head in living with a broad. This way he got
to keep all the profits and pleasures from doing what he did
best-killing people.

It was a rush like no other. Even better than getting off
inside a bitch. Or the almost orgasmic feel of cocaine going
into his veins. He killed for hire or just plain old desire.
It made no difference to him. What counted most was that once
he had targeted someone for death, it was just a matter of
when, where, how, and sometimes how much.

He contemplated those very things as he studied the nice
looking broad through the window of her fancy home. She was
maybe thirty, slim, with a big ass and even bigger breasts.
Her yellow hair was permed in fluffy curls and she had full
red lips. He imagined kissing that mouth, then sticking his
tongue inside. Or better yet, having that mouth go down on him
and doing its thing.

Before he gave her a taste of death.

She was sitting at the dining room table with her husband. He
was a few years older than her, dark haired, and seemingly
uncomfortable in her presence, as though he didn't belong.

He looked away from the man back to his wife, watching a while
longer, as he devised his strategy for her demise. A rush of
adrenalin poured through him at the prospect, knowing the time
was getting near to put the plan into action.

But first he wanted to allow her a bit more false sense of
security. It was always that much more exhilarating when his
victim realized that the perfect little world she or he had
created was about to come crashing down around them and there
wasn't a damned thing that could be done to prevent it.

Except maybe hope you got run over by a bus first. Or dropped
dead of a heart attack, sparing yourself from meeting up with
him.

Short of that, the person was his for the taking. And he fully
intended to do just that.

Only a matter of time.

Yes, let her feel secure in her comfortable house. With that
husband of hers there to protect her. Wouldn't do her one bit
of good.

She would never live to see the light of day.

* * *

The jury foreman looked tense as she responded to the judge's
terse question, "Have you reached a verdict?"

The juror, an attractive Jordanian professor and mother of
five, risked a furtive peek at the other jurors, as if for
final confirmation. Then she raised her big brown eyes to the
bench. "Yes, we have, Your Honor-"

Judge Sheldon Crawford was in his mid-fifties, but looked
younger with a cappuccino-toned face that was without wrinkles
save for a barely perceptible crease stretching across his
forehead. He had short salt and pepper hair, and deep gray
eyes that rarely seemed to blink. Focusing them on the juror,
he instructed her to hand the verdict to the bailiff.

Judge Crawford had a reputation as a tough judge, routinely
doling out the stiffest penalties the law would allow.
Needless to say, prosecutors and their constituents loved him
and the justice rendered. Whereas, defense attorneys and their
clients feared coming before the judge, often doing all they
could to avoid his court, including plea bargaining at
virtually every opportunity.

Beverly Mendoza, co-counsel for the State, fidgeted in her
seat. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Her intense
green eyes studied the faces of the jurors, trying to get a
hint as to what direction they had taken. Admittedly she
hadn't a clue and was too smart to make any presumptions.

The case involved a woman accused of murdering her lover by
pushing him off a 320-foot cliff. Her defense was that they
were just fooling around-love play, she had called it-when
he accidentally fell to his death. The fact that she didn't
report him missing for two weeks seemed incidental. As did his
million dollar life insurance policy, which had only recently
named her as the beneficiary.

Beverly gazed at the thirty-year-old defendant who sat there
cool, calm, collected-and incredibly confident.

Does she know something that I don't?

Could this jury have possibly let her off the hook?

Meaning the prosecution would have failed to prove its case.
And I'd have a loss on my record that would be hard to swallow
and harder to justify.

She snapped her head back, causing her long, straight brunette
hair to bounce against the gray jacket of her Anne Klein linen
suit. Her eyes landed on her co-counsel, Deputy District
Attorney Grant Nunez. His Afro-Latino profile was classic with
chiseled, caramel colored features and a round head that was
shaven bald. He wore a tailored dark brown suit that fit well
on his muscular, tall frame. Grant was forty-eight years
older than her-and in line for a judgeship by all
indications. Losing this case would not help his chances.

Nor would it bode especially well for my career, thought
Beverly. Sensationalized cases would always be remembered for
the winners and losers, no matter how many other battles were
fought and won. Especially when lawyers were always looking
ahead in their careers. She had aspirations of being a
district attorney someday. Or maybe even a judge.

Right now, assistant district attorney for Wilameta County
would have to suffice.

Sensing her stare, Grant swiveled his head, slanting his cool
sable eyes at her. If he was worried, he didn't show it.
Instead, he gave Beverly a devilish smile that she knew was
less about the proceedings than it was about them. They had
been dating for four months now, though it had only become
sexual in the last four weeks. Both had survived bad previous
relationships and, once they had overcome their fears of
failure and the unknown, had succumbed to mutual desires that
left Beverly shamelessly wanting him every chance she got.

But getting her twelve-year-old son to approve of Grant had
proven to be a far more formidable task. Jaime was very
protective of her and did not want to see his mother get
hurt-again. To him, Grant was someone who threatened the life
Jaime had known for most of his young life, where it had
pretty much been just the two of them.

Perhaps even more difficult for Beverly to deal with was
losing her mother five years ago to breast cancer and now
watching her father wasting away with Alzheimer's disease. It
left him but a shell of his former and proud self as a Latino
who was used to being a macho man in command of his life and
times. Sometimes she wished it would be over with for him so
her father wouldn't suffer anymore; other times Beverly wanted
him to hang on for as long as he possibly could. After all,
having part of a father and grandfather to her son was
preferable to none at all.

Wasn't it?

Beverly's mind shifted back to the attention Grant was giving
her, as if they were the only ones in the courtroom. She
willed herself to avert his lascivious gaze that had managed
to cause her temperature to rise, and focus on the important
matter at hand. Judge Crawford read the verdict to himself. He
passed the slip back to the bailiff, giving no indication by
his dignified facial expression as to what it said.

Beverly felt the butterflies in her stomach as she usually did
whenever a case was about to be decided. It represented weeks
or months of hard work and in an instant would culminate for
all parties concerned. Later there would be the penalty phase.
And then, in all likelihood, appeals, and more decisions to
come.

But for the moment it didn't get any more exciting and tension
filled than this.

Once the bailiff had returned the verdict to the jury foreman,
the judge faced the defense table and stated levelly, "Will
the defendant please rise-"

She obeyed him, springing to her feet and running thin fingers
through short crimson hair before taking a breath and awaiting
the judge's words that would change her life for the better or
worse. Standing alongside her was her attorney, Cassandra
Fielding, a fortysomething, ex prosecutor, who had put up a
strong, sympathetic defense. No doubt she had an eye on a
hefty percentage of the insurance payments, mused Beverly.
Provided they ever came.

Judge Crawford nodded at the jury foreman. "You may read the
verdict."

The woman put on her glasses, almost for effect, took a deep
sigh, and looked down at her trembling hands. "We, the jury,
find the defendant, Suzanne Landon, to be guilty of murder in
the first degree-"

The courtroom erupted in cheers from the family of the victim.
Beverly let out a sigh of relief and saw victory spread across
Grant's face in a big grin. The two hugged as co-counsel might
be expected, formally and professionally. There would be time
later for a much more private celebration.

The newly convicted murderess was led away in handcuffs, tears
of disbelief or disappointment flowing down her reddened
cheeks. Before leaving the courtroom, she shot Beverly a
contemptuous gaze, which the prosecutor dismissed for all it
was worth.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but hateful glares will
never hurt me, Beverly told herself satisfyingly.

Justice was not always blind, she thought. Not today anyway.

* * *

"We did it!" Grant Nunez declared magnanimously. He had
Beverly cornered in his office, right between two file
cabinets. The door was locked and might just as well have had
a DO NOT DISTURB sign on it. He certainly had no intentions of
being interrupted till they were done.

At six-three, he hovered over Beverly by almost seven inches.
But that didn't detract from the presence she had as a woman.
With her Selma Hayek looks and a hot and taut body all her
own, it was all Grant could do not to want to be with Beverly
24/7.

He'd settle for twenty-four minutes and seven ways to make
love to this woman who turned him on like no other with both
her mind and sexuality, inside and out of the courtroom.

"Never thought for a minute we wouldn't," Beverly declared
between kisses.

"You're not a very good liar." Grant put his hands on her firm
breasts through her silk blouse, causing Beverly's nipples to
tingle.

"So sue me," she murmured, "but only after you make me come."

"Whatever you say, Counselor." He put his tongue in her mouth.
"Never let it be said that I don't believe in the spirit of
cooperation."

"Maybe that's why we make such a great team."

"Maybe."

Beverly tasted spearmint from his tongue, and gave him hers to
play with. She put a hand to his pants, feeling the hardness
of Grant's erection begging to be released. She was only too
happy to oblige, unzipping him, even as his hand went under
her skirt and began to caress between her legs. She pulled him
out and held firmly as if her own, stimulating the shaft.

"Umm ..." She heard the sound utter between their mouths,
unsure who it came from.

Her back stiffened when Grant slipped fingers inside her
panties and then into her. She spread her legs while leaning
against a file cabinet, urging him on and giving back as much
in touching his penis. Beverly bit her lip as he began to
stimulate her clitoris, causing her to nearly scream with
pleasure.

Instead, mindful they were somewhere where noise could be
easily heard, she managed barely more than a whimper. But
inside a desire to have an ache squelched had grown in leaps
and bounds. While still holding his throbbing erection,
Beverly looked Grant ravenously in the eye. "Condom?"

He removed one from his pocket and placed it in her palm,
content to see her take the lead. She quickly removed the foil
and slid the latex over him and climbed atop Grant's sturdy
hips, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Beverly inserted him inside her. "Make love to me," she
demanded in a desperate voice, the sense of urgency spreading
across her body like a bolt of lightening.

"It would be my pleasure, baby," he husked, and held onto her
slender waist while plunging himself deep into her as she
absorbed the thrusts while slamming herself back against him
with equal zest.

Her orgasm came quickly and a second one shortly thereafter at
about the same time that Grant climaxed with a rush of breath
and a violent shudder. Both were breathing heavily, and
Beverly could feel Grant's heartbeat pounding as they clung to
one another till the experience had come to a mouths smacking,
bodies perspiring, satisfying conclusion.

"We need to win as a team more often," Grant sang contentedly,
giving Beverly another long kiss.

She kissed him back and climbed off him. "That may not be
possible," she teased, "if you're a judge."

"True," he said, removing the condom and zipping his pants.
"But look at the bright side, baby. When and if that day ever
comes, just imagine what fun you and I could have in the
judge's chambers."

Beverly pushed him playfully. "You're insatiable!" She put her
clothes back into place; then brushed her hair.

He laughed. "And you're not?"

She blushed. "Maybe it's the effect you have on me, darling,
that makes me crave your body."

He chuckled again. "I have been known to have that effect on
women."

"Oh, really?" Beverly met his eyes and felt a touch of
jealousy. As far as she knew they were exclusive. If they
weren't on the same page there, she wanted to find out before
this went any further.

Grant sensed that he'd used the wrong choice of words and
quickly sought to rectify that. The last thing he wanted was
to ruin this relationship, something he'd managed to do too
easily in the past. Only none of the previous women in his
life could hold a candle to Beverly Mendoza and he wouldn't
have it any other way.

"What's important is that this is the first time it's really
meant something to me," he said in earnest. "I don't take that
lightly, Bev, and I'm definitely not looking at anyone else."

She smiled, feeling a sense of relief and maybe a little left
over insecurity. "But you'll tell me if you change your mind?"

"I won't," he promised. Not so long as there's the possibility
that we can really go somewhere with this.

"Neither will I," she thought to add, enjoying his company
more than Beverly had a man's in some time. She was in no
hurry to ruin a good thing. How good remained to be seen.

Grant straightened his tie. "So what do you say I take you out
to dinner for a victory celebration? Sex always leaves me
famished."

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from State's Evidence
by R. Barri Flowers
Copyright © 2006 by R. Barri Flowers.
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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