Page 129 of Hush
“How does it look?”
“Broken bones for sure. His ribs, maybe. Definitely a badly broken arm.”
Tom closed his eyes. “I’m very sorry, Mr. Renner. Please, keep me updated. You can reach me at this number anytime this evening. I would like to know how your client is after surgery.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“I’d like to schedule a hearing in chambers tomorrow morning. Does nine AM work for you? We can push back the start of trial.”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Renner sighed. Apparently, he’d decided not to be combative. “And, thank you for reaching out. I appreciate it. I was in the middle of a scathing press release, ripping the court a new one for lax security and an attitude of acceptance about violence toward my client.”
“I donotaccept what has happened, Mr. Renner. I’m horrified that this took place and I will do what I can to right this wrong. If you’d like a continuance, please prepare a motion for tomorrow morning.”
“Your Honor, my client is an innocent man who has been imprisoned for a crime he did not do. A continuance would keep him detained even longer. Mr. Kryukov wants his freedom. I’m sure you can understand.”
Tom bowed his head. A passionate plea from a defense attorney. How many times had he heard similar words over the years? Every defendant was innocent, until they were proven guilty. And, many were proven guilty.
“As long as we’re not pushing your client too hard.”
“I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, Judge Brewer.”
Hours later, Mike dropped by his hotel room and shared everything he’d found out. Rumor was some of the marshals had done exactly what Mike suspected. Kryukov was unaccounted for six minutes in the transfer papers. Six minutes was an eternity at the wrong end of fists and kicks. No one was willing to say for sure that they knew it had happened, at least, not to Mike.
But they’d all seen Mike hanging out with Tom, and Tom had felt the sidelong glances sliding their direction from Mike’s colleagues. Mike had been somewhat of a lone wolf in the marshals, and now, he was even more so. Who would fess up to Mike about a couple of marshals illegally beating up Kryukov in a demented revenge plot against his defense attorney?
They stole a few minutes together, hanging out in Tom’s hotel room doorway. Much as he wanted to, he couldn’t bring Mike into his suite. Around them, doors opened, marshals wandering into the hall to check on them, see if Tom or Mike needed anything. Their attempts to eavesdrop were obvious and unsubtle.
So they changed the subject. Mike complimented him on his tie. Tom flushed. He thanked Mike for lunch, again, and Mike asked what he wanted tomorrow. They grinned at each other, bashful, flirty smiles.
Villegas appeared at the end of the hall, as if summoned. All the marshals turned toward him, their heads grinding on a swivel. “Lucciano!” Villegas beckoned him over, eyes wide. “Lucciano, get over here!”
Mike leaned back, spotted Villegas, and cursed. “I’ll text you,” he mouthed.
His phone rang as Mike stepped back. “It’s Renner. I have to take this.”
Mike nodded and headed toward Villegas as Tom disappeared into his suite. “Counselor?”
“Your Honor, sorry to call this late.”
“It’s no problem. I asked you to call.”
“Mr. Kryukov has two broken ribs, a fractured arm, and a whole boatload of bruises. The surgeon had to put three pins in his wrist.”
Tom exhaled slowly. He’d been afraid it was going to be much worse. This was still bad, but not life-threatening, at least. “How is he doing?”
“He’s sedated. Resting comfortably.”
“Good. I’m glad he is comfortable and out of harm’s way.”
“Well, I’m not so sure of that. I’m not entirely convinced this was inmate-on-inmate violence.”
Shit. “Oh?”
“There was care not to attack his head, his face, or his fingers. Anything that would show obvious signs of a beating.”
“I’d say broken bones that have to be set through surgery are obvious signs of a beating, counselor.”
“I am concerned about my client’s safety.”
