Trial and Terror Read Online Free Page A

arranged. “These are portraits of people with whom I cut a deal. The few covered with yellow stickies were those foolish enough to get in trouble with the law again, and they are now very sorry they did. Do you understand?”
    Cruz nodded.
    Angiers itched his scalp. “I view them as personal failures. And failure does not sit well with me. Do you promise you will never show your face around my court again?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Do you swear to me you will seek treatment for your drug problem?”
    “Yeah, Judge. You have my word.”
    “I’m not sure what that’s worth. Approach the bench, Mr. Cruz.”
    First the file, then the D.A. a no-show. Today was Cruz’s lucky day. Usually, Angiers gave this speech only when the holding tank was about to bust open. Cruz ambled forward. The clerk dusted off the camera. Summer averted her eyes to avoid the flash and caught sight of Rosie.
    Rosie mouthed: I have to talk to you.
    Summer held up a finger: Wait a sec.
    “Ms. Neuwirth!” Angiers shouted.
    Summer jumped through her skin. “Yes, Your Honor?”
    “Explain to your client what has transpired. Give him the names of drug rehabilitation programs. Make sure you get the message across. Now, get him out of here before I change my mind.”
    “Yes, Judge Angiers. I will. And thank you.”
    “Thank you,” Cruz chimed in, bowing.
    As the clerk printed out the photo and stuck it up with the rest, Angiers adjourned for the day.
    Summer led Cruz to a side room where they sat catty-corner at a tiny broken desk, her back to the door. Too close for Summer’s comfort. There was always the possibility of contracting TB from clients, especially those who lived on the street.
    He had said he’d been here before. That meant he probably had at least one prior conviction, if not two. If he had two felony convictions, two strikes against him, then the judge had made a crucial error. If they found Cruz’s file, the police could drag him back.
    “Thanks for your help.” Cruz was shaking.
    “I didn’t do anything.”
    “Well, um, thanks for being here. The last few times—”
    “I’ve been instructed by the court to provide you with the names of drug rehabilitation facilities.”
    “Tried that already. No slots available.”
    Summer knew this. Although the federal government was willing to spend hundreds of millions on drug interdiction and border patrols, there was no political will to provide users with tools to escape their addictions. If Cruz stuck around Haze County, it was only a matter of time before he’d end up serving hard time.
    She looked around, and then whispered, “The weather in Costa Rica is wonderful this time of year.”
    “What?”
    Summer couldn’t tell him to flee—she could be charged with aiding and abetting a felon. “The weather in Haze County, for you, could get very hot, very uncomfortable. Wouldn’t you like to get away from it all? Go to Las Vegas or New York or Dallas?”
    “A vacation?”
    “Far away from here.”
    “How far?”
    “Far.”
    Cruz cracked a grin and scratched an armpit. “You know, I’ve always wanted to see Vegas.”
    “I hear it’s so brightly lit, you can get a tan at midnight.”
    “Thanks,” Cruz said. “I owe you one.”
    “No offense, Mr. Cruz, but the best payback is if I never see you again.”
    Cruz wiped his nose with the bottom of his tank top, displaying a belly button stud and a tattoo of a syringe, the needle squirting dots of liquid. He stood, his giggling muffled by his shirt, and left.
    Skirting the law made Summer nervous, although it beat letting Cruz get twenty-five-to-life for stealing cookies. She hoped he had the sense to leave the state before seeking his next fix.
    A buzzing noise from inside her purse. She reached in to pull out her phone. Eddie Brockton calling again. She stared at the number. OK, so he was a sleaze. But what would it be like to work in a glittering office tower, representing freshly scrubbed clients in designer suits and