Page 82 of The Proving Ground
“Probably a newbie trying to make a name for herself. Any idea who was talking to her?”
“You already asked that. I don’t know. But as you know, I upset some applecarts when I came in. I dumped every division head, and those people didn’t take it well.”
It was a well-known fact in the district attorney’s office that when a new DA came in, a housecleaning followed. Especially this time. Facing a recall election he was going to come out on the wrong side of, Maggie’s predecessor had stepped down. Maggie was appointed by the county board of supervisors and then elected three months later. The division heads were all loyalists to the predecessor. Maggie had to clean house and put in her own people. It was nothing new. Prosecutors who supported the wrong candidate often found themselves in new and lesser postings, often in courthouses far from their homes. They called itfreeway therapy. For an agency that was supposed to be apolitical, it was anything but.
My phone buzzed again. I still had it in my hand. It was Cisco again.
“Just take it, Mickey,” Maggie said. “It must be important.”
I did.
“Mick, they found Naomi,” Cisco said.
“Who found her?” I said.
“I don’t know yet.”
“What do you mean? I thought you were with her.”
“I’m here but not in the room with her. I’m in the lobby and she just called. Somebody just slipped a note under her door. I’m watching the exit to see who leaves.”
I’d known it was only a matter of time before Naomi Kitchenswas located by the opposition forces. Whether they followed me to the hotel after court or picked up her trail through electronic means didn’t matter at this point. They had found my key witness.
“What did the note say?” I asked.
“She wouldn’t tell me,” Cisco said. “She’s scared and crying. I can go up to her room, but I’ll miss whoever did this.”
“No, you stay there. I’ll call her.”
“All right.”
I disconnected.
“Trouble?” Maggie asked.
“They’re fucking with my witness,” I said. “I had her stashed out at the Huntington.”
“This is the ethicist?”
“Yeah. I need to call and calm her down.”
I got up and punched in the number of the burner I had given Naomi. I walked out onto the front deck while the call went through. Naomi answered with a statement that drilled a spike into me.
“Mickey, I can’t testify.”
“Whoa, whoa, Naomi, what’s going on?”
“I just can’t testify. That’s all you need to know. Lily and I are going home tomorrow. And I’m hanging up now.”
“Naomi, wait. Just listen to me.”
I paused. She didn’t hang up. I had to think of something.
“Look, you can’t just go home,” I said. “You are a subpoenaed witness. If you don’t show up, the judge will send the marshals to find you and bring you to court. You could be arrested if you don’t show.”
“What are you talking about?” she said, her voice shrill. “Arrested? For what?”
“Well, you asked for a subpoena so you could get out of work. Thejudge issued it and now you need to show up. If you don’t, the judge can send the marshals after you.”
