Peter sat in Stacy Pardchek's office drumming his fingers on the arms of his chair as he fidgeted in his seat.
Scribbling furiously on the legal pad before her, Stacy looked up and commented, "Good."
He sat up and stared. "Good. That's it? The woman is suing me for two million dollars, I've been suspended from my job, and I'm worried sick about my pregnant wife. I need something more than good."
Stacy stopped writing and looked up at Peter. "I understand that you have been advised by the department that you were named as a co-respondent -- along with the department as a whole and the city -- in a civil suit brought by Tammy Wright on behalf of Jason Fischer's estate. She claims that your actions on the day of September 10, 1999, while attempting to apprehend Jason, wrongfully led to his death. She is seeking damages in the amount of two million dollars. Right?"
"Right. Except that Ms. Wright --" Peter spoke the name with distaste. "--Already agreed to drop the department and the city from the suit as soon as I was suspended without pay. Made the commissioner real happy."
She snorted. "I imagine so. Even though the department and the city both carry insurance for things such as this. I don't suppose you have a couple million or so lying around to offer in a settlement."
Peter grimaced. "Actually, I...we...do. Kacie inherited the family ranch when her father and brother died. It's not exactly the King ranch, but it's a close cousin. When Kace went back to Denver to clear up some legal matters, she had my name added to the deed."
"Are you willing to lose it?"
"Hell no." Peter jumped to his feet and lifted a brass figurine from a bookshelf, restlessly passing it from one hand to another. "It's been in my wife's family for four generations." A soft smile flitted across his mouth. "Five, if you count our baby." His face tightened in grim lines. "We'll fight to keep it, but Kacie says if worse comes to worst, we'd sell it just to get this Sword of Damocles away from our heads." He turned his head to stare at her. "Are you saying I'm going to lose this suit?"
She shook her head vigorously. "Not if I can help it."
"So what do I do?"
"You wait. I serve Ms. Wright's attorney with a verified answer to her suit. And I'm going to file a cross-claim against her for the emotional and physical stress she is causing your wife and unborn child through pursuing this civil suit."
"We're going to sue her?"
"If we have to." She paused thoughtfully. "Is there any way you'd allow this to go before a jury? I'd love to put Kacie on the stand and crucify Jason Fischer AND his sister."
Peter shook his head vigorously. "No. No way in hell will I let Kacie be grilled on a witness stand and have her retell what happened to her in front of a bunch of media hounds. We're trying to put this all behind us, and this Wright bitch keeps finding new ways to resurrect it."
"I had to ask. I really don't think this will make it to court."
"How are you going to prevent it?" Peter exchanged one brass figure for another, looking at them, but not really seeing them as he completely rearranged the set on the bookshelves.
"After her attorney gets a chance to look at what I sent him, I pick up the phone and he and I have a little chat." Her eyes narrowed and she smiled a small knowing smile.
Peter studied her face. "What do you mean by 'a little chat'?"
The attorney's expression grew cold and calculating. "That's what I call it. I call him on the phone and we discuss the facts of the case without all the crap surrounding it. He will see that I answered each part of the claims in the suit in full, comprehensive detail. He'll know we intend to mount a serious defense. That's when I begin round two."
Peter set down the last of the figures and slid into his seat. "What's round two?"
"The countersuit."
"You really think we have anything to sue her with?"
"You bet your ass you do. The plaintiff died in the commission of a felony, and this was after committing several other felonies. He was sexually assaulting your wife after kidnapping and terrorizing her. He has a long history of crime, dating back at least ten years in at least five different cities."
"How do you know that?"
She cocked a self-satisfied eyebrow at him. "I do my homework. I have friends in certain places. I made a couple of calls, received a couple of anonymous faxes. The point of which is to make sure Wright's attorney knows what I know. I'm reasonably certain she didn't tell her attorney all about her dear little brother. She's probably portrayed him as this poor victim of circumstance. I destroy that image and replace it with the truth."
"So what's that supposed to accomplish?"
"No attorney in their right mind is going to go before a judge, let alone a jury, with a client like that. Not when the animal's intended victim was a defenseless pregnant woman. Her attorney will picture Kacie sitting before either a judge or jury, six months pregnant --"
"Seven and a half."
She laughed. "Seven and a half. There isn't a man or woman judge or juror who won't take one look at Kacie and want to kill the bastard all over again."
"I already told you: I won't let Kacie testify."
"She won't have to, Peter. This suit is going to be dropped."
Peter scowled doubtfully. "What makes you so sure?"
Stacy reached into a desk drawer and plopped a file in front of Peter. "I have a copy of the transcripts Ms. Wright gave to her attorney. She doesn't say one word about him ever being in any trouble before that day. She makes him sound like an Eagle Scout led astray. The last thing she's going to want is for the truth to get out in the open. Knowing the press the way I do, they would dig deep for any slime they could find. That would include the questionable background of Ms. Wright herself."
"When did you become such a legal terror?" Peter bit his lip as soon as the words were out, flushing and dropping his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."
"Still can't bring yourself to trust me, can you, Peter?" Pardchek smiled ruefully. "This reminds me of the way you ran out of that courtroom some time back, rather than let me take care of your case."
He twisted the ring on his left hand before speaking. "I'm not thinking of either you or me, Stacy. I came so close to losing Kacie when she was sick, and you know our baby nearly died. I won't allow anything to upset her if I can possibly help it."
Stacy's smile softened. "I understand that perfectly, Peter. But I need to know that you trust me, that you trust my judgment, or I'll have to tell you to get some other lawyer to represent you."
"That won't be necessary. I-I trust you."
Stacy sat up a little straighter in her chair. "Your murder case was a long time ago, Peter. I've learned a lot since then, like if the truth needs to be dragged out into the light of day, you drag it out kicking and screaming if need be."
Peter nodded soberly. "What happens if things don't go the way you say?"
"You mean a worst case scenario?"
"Yes."
"OK, worst case. They move for summary judgment; I appear in court and move for a jury trial. We get on the court calendar; we appear in court and do our damnedest to win. We use every trick in the book, and a few that aren't, to convince at least two-thirds of the jury that he was a dangerous psycho that was killed by someone else other than you. You had nothing to do with the actual death of the scum."
"Why only two-thirds?"
"Because a civil jury only requires a two-thirds majority. So..." She stopped speaking and drilled him with her direct stare. "Are we in agreement here? You trust me now?"
Peter winked at her and extended his hand. "I trusted you before. Let's just say now I trust you more."