I studied her face, looking for any sign of insincerity, but found none. “Thank you.”
“I’ve been assigned as lead investigator on this case, and I’m goingto make sure it’s handled properly,” she said firmly. “The evidence you’ve provided gives us multiple charges we can pursue—breaking and entering, assault, attempted kidnapping, and now jury tampering. That last one is particularly serious.”
“Will it be enough?” I asked, voicing my earlier fear.
“With the recording? Absolutely,” she said confidently. “Jury tampering is a federal offence. Even Marcus Delaney’s connections can’t make that go away.”
I wanted to believe her. I really did.
“Other officers will be here soon to take formal statements,” she continued. “But I wanted to meet with you personally first, to assure you that I’m taking this seriously.” She leaned forward, her expression intense. “We’re going to make him pay, Mr. Lajeunesse. I promise you that.”
For the first time since waking up, I felt something close to hope. Not just because of her words, but because of the determination behind them. Detective Mathers wasn’t intimidated by Marcus’s wealth or connections. She saw him for what he was—a criminal who’d escaped justice for too long.
“Thank you,” I said again, meaning it more deeply this time.
She nodded, understanding in her eyes. “We’ll get through this together.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Damian
I KNOCKEDon Justice Sommers’s chambers door at precisely 7:30 a.m., before the courthouse officially opened. She’d agreed to meet me this early after my urgent call last night. The bruises on Alex’s throat were still fresh in my mind—purple fingerprints marking where Marcus had nearly choked the life from him.
“Come in, Mr. Richards.”
Justice Sommers sat behind her desk, already reviewing documents. She looked up, her expression sharpening when she saw my face.
“You look like you haven’t slept.”
“I haven’t.” I placed a USB drive on her desk. “This contains audio evidence of Marcus Delaney confessing to jury tampering. He paid two jurors fifty thousand dollars each to deadlock our trial.”
Her hand froze midway to the drive. “That’s a serious allegation.”
“It’s not an allegation. It’s a recorded confession. At approximately 3:20 a.m. yesterday, Delaney broke down the door of my client’s motel room and physically assaulted him. During the attack, he explicitly stated he’d bribed jurors. Alex kept his phone line open to me duringthe assault. I recorded everything while calling 911.”
I passed her a transcript I’d prepared overnight while Alex slept fitfully in my guest room.
“I’ve highlighted the relevant sections. Page two, paragraph four: ‘You think you won? I paid fifty grand to each of those two holdouts. Money well spent.’”
Justice Sommers’ eyes narrowed as she read. “And Mr. Delaney is currently—”
“He already posted bail. Which is why I’m here.” I handed her photographs of Alex’s injuries—the bruises around his throat, the cut on his cheekbone where Marcus had struck him. “My client isn’t safe. The protective order Judge Patterson vacated would have prevented this attack.”
She studied the photos, her lips tightening. “These were taken when?”
“Yesterday morning, after Detective Mathers with the Toronto Police department documented his injuries. She’s building a case for attempted murder, breaking and entering, and assault. And now, jury tampering.”
Justice Sommers set down the photos and rubbed her temples. “This changes everything.”
“Yes. And it requires immediate action.” I leaned forward. “I’m requesting an emergency reinstatement of the protective order with enhanced conditions. No bail on any new charges. Electronic monitoring. A complete prohibition on third-party contact.”
“You believe he’d use others to reach Mr. Lajeunesse?”
“He already has. He’s obtained Alex’s phone number twice after changes, found his location at both the shelter and the motel he was staying at. Someone’s feeding him information.”
She nodded slowly, turning to her computer. “I’m issuing the order immediately. Full no-contact provisions, electronic monitoring as acondition of his current bail, and a freeze on all attempts to liquidate assets over ten thousand dollars.”
“Thank you.” The relief nearly buckled my knees.
