Page 52 of White Raven
“Like the vampire attacks. Yes. Those vials were tested from blood that was drawnfromhis remains…notonthem. I think at first glance, it could have been overlooked as possible interactions with people throughout the day he’d been killed…but he wascarryingthis DNA.”
“Like a virus?”
“Like a virus,” she nodded. “I think my uncle may have killed himself.”
Foley leaned back in his chair, dumbfounded. “Butwhy?Why would he do something like that? Especially if he was the only family you knew, and the sole person responsible for caring for you?”
“I think—” Rhaena paused, her skin paling as she swallowed. “I think he was being hunted. Used like a lab rat. Like Sarah was being used. Somebody was experimenting on him, and he was losing control. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. My uncle taught me to lock myself in so peoplewouldn’t get hurt. He killed your partner. He attacked you. As much as I wish it weren’t true…it likely is. He killed himself to protect the public from whatever he was becoming, Malcolm. He did it to protectme.”
This indictment was going far from well. He had studied up on every possible aspect of this case, and got little to no sleep last night preparing for court. Brenwick was bringing her best game in there, and C.J. was less than hopeful that this wouldn’t get pushed to trial. He had one hour to come up with something to sway the judge, or this goose was cooked. Crunchy, even.
“Man, how you gone survive another minute with this bitch if you can’t even keep the sweat from your pretty-boy forehead?”
Darius Johnson was one of the lowest pieces of shit Brent had ever had the misfortune of meeting, and if the petty insult wasn’t enough to scratch his nerves, the way that he eyed C. J. was surely setting him off. This room was too small to even pace in and they had to be back in the courtroom in ten minutes. The lack of evidence was supposed to be enough. He felt so off his game.
“I want another lawyer. How ‘bout your fine ass? Can’t you do somethin’ but sit there and look pretty?” He wagged his brows and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, peeling every layer of C. J.’s clothes off with his beady-ass eyes.
“I’m gonna go ahead and remind you that my …fine ass…would not be sitting here if you didn’t commit a murder. I’m only here for him.” She nodded in Brent’s direction, as he made yet another turn by the door and paced back towards her.“Stratford, wearing out the fucking carpet isn’t doing anybody any favors.”
“She’s got us by the balls with Carmen’s victim impact statement. The judge is gonna push this case to trial. It doesn’t matter who your lawyer is, Johnson…if that happens, she’s gonna make sure you get life.”
“Not if you do your fuckin’job. You’re ‘sposed to be one of the best in Boston. Or did ‘yo daddy blow those balls off when he popped a cap in—”
Brent reacted faster than he could register in his mind that this murderer threw the juiciest bait, and he had just chomped on it like a starving animal. His body slammed against his restrained client hard enough to take the entire chair down with them and his fists went flying, numb with adrenaline to even know how many times his knuckles made contact with Darius’s face.
“Brent!” C.J. screamed, launching from her chair to try and pull him off. He only saw red. At this point it was impossible to tell if it was a haze in his vision, or blood splattering his eyes as he continued to beat the ever-lovingshitout of this man. “Brent, stop!”
He heard commotion behind him, and two solid men ripped him away from Johnson’s limp body, jerking his hands behind his back. The bite of handcuffs around his wrists were tight, and C. J. stood in horrified shock as he was led out of the room. The hallways leading past the courtroom were a blur, as were the people he was dragged past. A paramedic rushed by with a gurney, and before he knew it he was being led down the steps out the front of the courthouse and being shoved in the back of a patrol car. He distinctly heard the sound of cameras flying off before the wave of paparazzi started flooding the sides of the vehicle.
Fucking great. He just single-handedly ruined his own reputation.
He’d gladly take whatever the papers would say if it would spare him from the way the entire 12th precinct stared at him as the officers led him from the elevator past Captain Foley’s office—Rhaena Northwood standing from her chair behind the closed door gaping at him when he raised his head. He let his attention fall right back to the floor. That flooring changed to the familiar scuffed white tile of a holding cell, and one of the officers released him from his cuffs as the other one sat him down, saying nothing as they both walked out and locked him in.
He wondered which one of the detectives were gonna come over here first. His money was on Northwood. Sarah had said Kane was on leave. He faintly recalled something about possibly leaving town, and—fuck…Wren…
When Wren Vintorri found out what he’d just done…
“I’m sorry…have I had way too much caffeine this morning, or was that Brent Stratford being brought to holding?” Jenkins asked, approaching where Rhaena was huddled with the two officers that brought him in, and Captain Foley, who stood like this was the most shocked he’d ever been. Rhaena turned around while the officers continued to talk to the captain, and bit down on her bottom lip.
He absolutely loved it when she did that.
“You saw right. Apparently, Brent attacked a restrained inmate in court. And not opposing counsel either. We’re waiting on the status from the med team, and the officers say he had another colleague in the room. I need her statement if there’s any hope of helping him out.”
“What the hell happened?” Brandon asked, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing down the hall where the adjacent door led to holding. “He just went snap bean on his own client? Who’s the client?”
“Don’t know that either. Not yet. I think I’m gonna head up to the courthouse to talk to the witness and see what case he was on. I know Brent was acting out before all this happened at the mansion, but something doesn’t smell right with this.”
“What about Stratford?” he asked, feeling pity for the kid.
“You want in?”
“Babe…the guy’s been through hell and back these last few months. Just like everybody else. He’s the only one of us that’s alone in it.”
Rhaena shrugged a shoulder. “I’m not trying to be inconsiderate, but he’s only alone because he’s choosing to be. Some people deal with their grief better on their own.”
For the first time in a long time, Brandon felt a disagreement so strong with her that he almost raised his voice. “Rhaena…this is handling it better? He’s in lock-up. I don’t think he’s choosing to work it out on his own because it’s what he wants, I think it’s pretty obvious it’s a lack of options, and people who actually give a shit.”
Her eyebrow twitched in irritation. “Every single one of us has tried to be there for him. We get brushed off. Funny thing about men being vulnerable is it’s the last thing they want to show because they think it makes them look weak. What does this make him look like, Brandon?”
