Night Lawyers (Nick Teffinger Thriller / Read in Any Order) Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: R.J. Jagger
This is your one and only chance.”
The line went dead.
Teffinger headed home and bided his time until a solid darkness fell. Then he put a tarp and a shovel in the bed of the Tundra and headed for the warehouse district. If the silhouette on the floor turned out to be Rain’s body, he’d bury it somewhere.
He’d testify at Zero’s trial.
Preston’s videotape showed Teffinger roughing up Rain and charging Preston with a broken beer bottle. It didn’t show him actually killing Rain, however. That evidence could only be admitted through the testimony of the two witnesses, Preston and his girlfriend. Preston in turn was a blackmailer, so his credibility would be suspect. The girlfriend no doubt condoned the blackmail and would likely share the money, so she’d be equally suspect.
There was still a chance to take Zero down at trial.
The process would take Teffinger down as well but there was no getting around it. Either they’d both walk or both go down. Right now, Teffinger was leaning more towards the latter.
He parked a hundred yards short of the gap building and closed the distance on foot.
Noises came from inside the building, deep in the darkness. The closer Teffinger got, the more they sounded like animals feeding on something.
He got on the ground at the gap and pointed the flashlight inside.
Three good-sized dogs or coyotes were ripping a body apart.
They growled.
Their mouths pulled back.
Their fangs showed.
They were bloody.
The closest one let out a loud vicious bark and turned his body directly towards the light. The paws were firmly planted. The posture was low and tense. The eyes were yellow slits.
Teffinger slowly backed out.
Then he got the hell out of there.
9
Day Three
June 6
Tuesday Morning
Silke Jopp, Esq. practiced law out of a three-story brick structure that started life at the turn of the century as a shoe factory. It sat at the edge of lower downtown Denver, LoDo, where the texture of the city was woven in shades of not-so-good art galleries, mom-and-pop restaurants and professional offices, mostly occupied by lawyers and architects and engineers who were more interested in parking and atmosphere than they were in a fancy financial district address.
The sign on the front door was small—Silke Jopp, P.C., Attorney-At-Law.
It belied the status of her reputation.
At a mere thirty-five years of age she was already the undisputed Queen of Defense, the attorney of choice for the affluent and powerful and the high-profile when the stakes were everything and the going was nasty.
She wasn’t cheap.
Right now she was sitting on the building’s back steps with a Camel dangling from her lips, dressed in her usual attire; jeans, Nike’s and a plain blouse. Her hair was in a ponytail. A hop and jump down the alley, two magpies were scavenging through a dumpster.
Next week was the Decker Zero trial.
She was lucky to have the case.
Zero had first met with Bale Colton, Esq., out of New York, one of the only defense attorneys even more pronounced than her. After two short meetings a personality conflict developed.
Zero sought other counsel.
He landed in Silke’s office.
The man had money enough to engage her services. Right now, she had an unlimited defense budget, with over a million dollars sitting in the retainer account.
Silke didn’t know where Zero got his money.
She didn’t care.
She knew it was green and that his checks cleared.
It was 10:10, meaning that in twenty minutes Neverly Cage would be coming by with her latest report. Inside, Silke’s personal phone rang. She hesitated, deciding, then flicked the butt into the dirt and took the call.
A man’s voice came through, one she didn’t recognize.
“You don’t know me,” he said. “My name’s Preston. I have some serious dirt on your star witness next week, Nick Teffinger.”
Silke’s heart pounded.
“What’s your last name, Preston?”
“That’s not important,” he said.
The line went dead.
Teffinger headed home and bided his time until a solid darkness fell. Then he put a tarp and a shovel in the bed of the Tundra and headed for the warehouse district. If the silhouette on the floor turned out to be Rain’s body, he’d bury it somewhere.
He’d testify at Zero’s trial.
Preston’s videotape showed Teffinger roughing up Rain and charging Preston with a broken beer bottle. It didn’t show him actually killing Rain, however. That evidence could only be admitted through the testimony of the two witnesses, Preston and his girlfriend. Preston in turn was a blackmailer, so his credibility would be suspect. The girlfriend no doubt condoned the blackmail and would likely share the money, so she’d be equally suspect.
There was still a chance to take Zero down at trial.
The process would take Teffinger down as well but there was no getting around it. Either they’d both walk or both go down. Right now, Teffinger was leaning more towards the latter.
He parked a hundred yards short of the gap building and closed the distance on foot.
Noises came from inside the building, deep in the darkness. The closer Teffinger got, the more they sounded like animals feeding on something.
He got on the ground at the gap and pointed the flashlight inside.
Three good-sized dogs or coyotes were ripping a body apart.
They growled.
Their mouths pulled back.
Their fangs showed.
They were bloody.
The closest one let out a loud vicious bark and turned his body directly towards the light. The paws were firmly planted. The posture was low and tense. The eyes were yellow slits.
Teffinger slowly backed out.
Then he got the hell out of there.
9
Day Three
June 6
Tuesday Morning
Silke Jopp, Esq. practiced law out of a three-story brick structure that started life at the turn of the century as a shoe factory. It sat at the edge of lower downtown Denver, LoDo, where the texture of the city was woven in shades of not-so-good art galleries, mom-and-pop restaurants and professional offices, mostly occupied by lawyers and architects and engineers who were more interested in parking and atmosphere than they were in a fancy financial district address.
The sign on the front door was small—Silke Jopp, P.C., Attorney-At-Law.
It belied the status of her reputation.
At a mere thirty-five years of age she was already the undisputed Queen of Defense, the attorney of choice for the affluent and powerful and the high-profile when the stakes were everything and the going was nasty.
She wasn’t cheap.
Right now she was sitting on the building’s back steps with a Camel dangling from her lips, dressed in her usual attire; jeans, Nike’s and a plain blouse. Her hair was in a ponytail. A hop and jump down the alley, two magpies were scavenging through a dumpster.
Next week was the Decker Zero trial.
She was lucky to have the case.
Zero had first met with Bale Colton, Esq., out of New York, one of the only defense attorneys even more pronounced than her. After two short meetings a personality conflict developed.
Zero sought other counsel.
He landed in Silke’s office.
The man had money enough to engage her services. Right now, she had an unlimited defense budget, with over a million dollars sitting in the retainer account.
Silke didn’t know where Zero got his money.
She didn’t care.
She knew it was green and that his checks cleared.
It was 10:10, meaning that in twenty minutes Neverly Cage would be coming by with her latest report. Inside, Silke’s personal phone rang. She hesitated, deciding, then flicked the butt into the dirt and took the call.
A man’s voice came through, one she didn’t recognize.
“You don’t know me,” he said. “My name’s Preston. I have some serious dirt on your star witness next week, Nick Teffinger.”
Silke’s heart pounded.
“What’s your last name, Preston?”
“That’s not important,” he said.
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