The Trials of Nikki Hill by Dick Lochte, Christopher Darden Page B

sorry. Deschamps,” she corrected herself. Wise was staring at her, frowning. She turned back to Walden, determined to move past the gaff. “Couldn’t we at least contact some of the people in those files and find out if she’s been bleeding them?”
    Walden considered it for a few beats, then said, “We’d wind up terrorizing and/or infuriating several extremely important and influential people.”
    “And,” Wise added, “Deschamps’s attorney would be very happy to point out to a jury that we were so uncertain of his guilt we initiated a whole new area of investigation.”
    “I am forced to agree,” Walden said. “Deschamps is all yours, Ray. Murder one. Special circumstances. Start the arraignment process.” His eyes shifted to Nikki. “Thanks for your input.”
    She knew it was silly to take the D.A.’s decision as a personal defeat, but she couldn’t help herself. Walden must have picked up on her mood, because he added, “If I didn’t make it clear before, Ray, as my special assistant, Nikki will be part of your team.”
    Wise looked as if his boss had just slapped him across the face. “That’s not going to work. She doesn’t even believe in the case.”
    “Good. Convince her and you should have no trouble with an impartial jury.”
    “Jesus, Joe—” Wise began.
    “The subject’s closed,” Walden cut him off. “Keep her fully up to date.”
    Wise replied with a curt nod. He glared at Nikki as he left the room.
    “It’s important that we know precisely what they’re up to at Major Crimes,” Walden said to Nikki. “I suggest you develop some contacts over there. But I caution you: Don’t be too candid with them about our progress.”
    “No?”
    “I don’t trust their security,” Walden said. “Although Lieutenant Corben runs a very effective operation, all it takes is one rotten apple.”
    “Any particular bad apple in mind?” Nikki asked.
    “If I did, I’d let Corben know,” he said. “Just use discretion.”
    “I will,” she said.
    When she remained seated, he asked, “Something else?”
    “This sudden publicity,” she said. “I’m not comfortable with it.”
    “I thought you’d be pleased.”
    “The article in the paper this morning made it sound like I was in charge of the Gray case.”
    “We provide journalists with the correct information,” he said. “What they do with it...But I’ll tell Meg to clarify your duties in the future.”
    “I just want people to get it right that Ray will be the one bringing Jamal Deschamps to trial, not me,” she said.
    “Point noted,” he said.
    Wise was waiting for her at his office door. “Would you please come in.” It was more an order than a request.
    She entered, her wariness increasing when he closed the door. “Let’s get this straight at the jump,” he said, almost whispering. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Walden. Maybe it’s because you’re black, maybe you’re sucking his dick. Christ, maybe he even thinks you can do the job. I don’t know and I don’t care. All I care about is putting Jamal Deschamps where he belongs. You try to get between me and that, I’ll knock you down and kick you out of the way. Am I making myself clear?”
    “You were clear the first day I laid eyes on you,” she said, seething. “Cellophane.”
    “Fine. Then I suggest you do two things. First, get Mason frigging Durant out of your head. That’s a closed book neither of us wants opened. Then go on about your business, whatever the hell that is. And I’ll get to mine.”
    “You seem to be forgetting something, Ray,” she said.
    “From this point on, your business is mine.”

T HIRTEEN
    J amal Deschamps hadn’t spent much time behind bars. A misunderstanding in a club had led to an overnight in the tank down at the glass house, Parker Center Jail. And there’d been the four days he’d put in at the old Hall of Justice Jail on West Temple Street before Irma Childs calmed down and dropped her