He checked his voicemail again. Still no message from Lupe. Nothing from Max. A feeling of dread came over Rafe that any news he got would be bad.
Very bad.
Chapter Fourteen
Isabella Torres placed her hands on her slender hips and glared at the Bigler County District Attorney. "I can't believe you were sneaky enough to go around me on this one, Charles."
Sheriff Benjamin Slater suppressed a smile as the three of them crowded into his small office in the historic old Placer Hills Courthouse. He watched Bella's brown eyes flash and her jaw jut out pugnaciously as she towered over Charles Barrington, a diminutive man an inch shorter than her, three inches with the spiky shoes she wore.
"Come on, Izzie," Barrington cajoled. "You know that I don't have to get your permission for decisions I make as district attorney."
Uh oh, Barrington was in trouble now. Slater had known Bella to practically decapitate a junior deputy sheriff who made the mistake of using that nickname on her. But this time, Bella merely continued her silent glaring.
Barrington shuffled from one foot to another, and Slater knew the man was dying to sit down. He didn't look so short that way. What with Slater at several inches over six feet and Bella a foot shorter than that, Charles was the designated Lilliputian in the room.
"I have to make decisions that are best for this office," Barrington continued, still fidgeting, "and if you can't see that, then there's nothing more to discuss."
Slater tried not to roll his eyes at Charles' spineless excuse for an officer of the court. Isabella Torres was experienced in a way Charles had never been and never would be. She knew how to use her body, her facial expressions, and her voice to good advantage. If the D.A. weren't such a putz, he'd have figured out how to use her strengths by now. Instead, he constantly threw roadblocks at her.
Bella was the one who should be district attorney. But the position was an elected one, and Charles was a local, born and bred in Placer Hills, and Bella was a newcomer, a woman, and a Latina.
"I've been working the Vargas case for eleven months, Charles." Bella's voice held an undertone of quiet desperation. "I'm this close." She held her thumb and forefinger nearly together and then looked to Slater for help, but he remained silent.
He knew she hated anything that smacked of pleading, but he was pretty sure Barrington was oblivious to her tone. Anyway, although Slater tried to avoid taking sides, on this particular case he happened to agree with the ruling to turn everything over to the feds. For the first time Barrington made sense. Slater just didn't like the sneaky, underhanded methods the D.A. used.
Charles turned his back on Bella and reached for the door knob. "This Hashemi guy comes highly recommended. He'll get the job done."
"Wait a minute." Bella's voice caused Barrington to pause, but he didn't turn around.
Slater leaned against the corner of his desk and waited. What ploy did she have up her sleeve? He knew her too well to think she'd give up without a bigger fight than she'd shown so far.
She coughed and cleared her throat as if it cost her something important to dicker with the D.A. "What if we worked the case together? The feds and our office?"
Charles looked back over his shoulder at this suggestion, a little smirk on his face. "Oh, I don't think that would work, Izzie."
Bella bit her lip and Slater watched her struggle for control of the temper that flared so easily around Barrington. "Maybe not, but why not give it a try?"
Charles was already shaking his head with fake sorrow, and she rushed on, "We've put a lot of work into this case. If we help them out, the DEA has to give us at least part of the credit."
A gamble, Slater thought, and a good one. The only thing Charles was better at than laying around on his lazy ass instead of prosecuting cases, was taking credit for work he didn't do. Slater watched the play of speculation cross the D.A.'s crafty face. The little weasel was already thinking how he could spin the case to snatch the glory away from Bella.
Bella's face, on the other hand, was flushed and full of bright hope. Slater swore to God that if Barrington let her remain on the case, he'd do everything he could as her friend and in his position as sheriff to see she got the credit she deserved.
On the heels of that thought, he wondered if she'd planned it just this way. A ploy to bring Barrington around and get Slater firmly entrenched on her side. He'd even bet she had already made a deal with the DEA agent. Atta girl, he thought affectionately.
Bella waited for the weasel's answer and held her breath, thinking she really hated this puny excuse for a man and an officer of the court she loved so much.
"All right," Charles relented, drawing out the words so it sounded as if he were doing her a big, fat favor. "But the minute the DEA complains, you're off the case. Understand?"
Bella nodded vigorously, pleased with the outcome. She despised toadying to Charles, but for the moment it didn't matter. She glanced at Slater with a smug grin, which he returned with a quick wink. Fortunately Charles missed both. He wouldn't like being played.
This was perfect. They could use the federal agency's budget and still get the result she wanted. Mainly, putting Diego Vargas behind bars for the rest of his life. Maybe even putting a needle in his arm if she could prove the allegations she'd uncovered in the last few months.
Thank God California still had capital punishment. She was sure she could prove special circumstances and this man deserved nothing less than the death penalty.
"Hey there, Izzie," Slater needled her after Charles had banged the office door loudly behind him. "Not a bad job of manipulation."
Bella put on a mock frown. "If you call me that again, Slater, I'll have to kill you." Then she smiled. "Wow, can you believe that nincompoop gave in?"
"You were pretty persuasive." Slater eyed her speculatively, suspicion etched in every line in his face. "What do you know that Charlie Nincompoop doesn't?"
Bella wrinkled her nose and waved her hand as if Charles had left a stench in the room. Which, as far as she was concerned, he had – the stench of incompetence. "I might have already arranged a little cooperation with the feds. Maybe."
"Really? What'd you have to give up for that agreement? Doesn't sound like any federal agent I've heard of."
Bella looked quickly at Slater. She felt her face grow warm. He had sharp eyes and excellent instincts, but he couldn't possibly know what had happened to her in the last several days.
"Quid pro quo, I imagine," he continued, "and that makes me wonder what you gave him."
Slater was too damned good at detecting.
"Don't be silly. Agent Hashemi and I are just going to swap notes, share our toys, and play nice in the sandbox."
Slater laughed aloud, a hearty robust sound that rose from his chest like an engine roaring. "Ah, Bella, you're one of a kind, that's for sure."
He returned to his desk and sank down in a large leather chair that matched his impressive size. "Off with you now, missy. I've got work to do." He waved several sheaves of paper in the air as proof.
Bella grabbed her purse and opened the door. "Thanks, Slater. We'll talk later."
As she reached the door, he called her back. "Isabella?"
Uh oh, he only used her real name when he got serious and went all friendly-protector on her. "Yes, Benjamin," she countered.
"Watch your back, okay? Barrington's a little nuts and a complete idiot, but he's crazy like a fox in the hen house."
She nodded in agreement. Somehow Charles Barrington had convinced the primarily conservative residents of Bigler County that he was tough on crime, so they'd re-elected him. But, in fact, he made outrageous plea bargain agreements every day. The man had no moral center, no sense of fairness, and no idea that he turned hardened criminals out on the streets with his inappropriate deals.