The Cartel Lawyer by Dave Daren (ebook reader below 3000 TXT) 📕

“As good as it could be,” I said with a shrug and a smile that I didn’t feel. “I’m sure I’ll be back soon.”

“He’ll be here,” the man chuckled before he shut me out of the facility.

I sighed as I walked toward my car, both at the conditions that my client found himself in and the heat that shimmered across the asphalt. There was no shade near the parking lot, and so the cracked blacktop was little better than a giant heat sink. I glanced up at the afternoon sun as I opened the door and wondered if it would really be terrible to have just a small hurricane that would blow some of the humidity away.

Wet, sweltering heat rushed over me as I slid into the driver’s seat and tossed my briefcase into the passenger seat. I turned the key then listened for the purr of my engine before I turned the AC to full blast.

There was no one else in the parking lot at the moment, not even a guard on patrol, and no other family members or lawyers hung around their cars to discuss their next steps. Everyone who came out of the building just hurried to their vehicles without looking back, though one woman glanced back toward a camera near the front door.

I shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it on top of my briefcase, and then saw that the woman had climbed into an old white Ford. I let the icy tendrils of the AC work their magic, and then I followed the old Ford as it pulled out of the parking lot.

The barbed-wire gate rolled open as we approached, and I gave the guard in the gatehouse a wave and a quick smile as I pulled through. He glared at me in return, and when I checked the rearview mirror, I could see that he was still watching me as I drove away.

It was unsettling, but not nearly as scary as Alvaro’s stare, and definitely not as terrifying as Osvaldo’s death glare. I shrugged off the guard’s attempt at intimidation and turned my attention to the drive back to the city.

Rush hour was already under way, and by the time I neared the city limits, traffic was at a standstill. I was checking my mental map of the area as I tried to come up with a way around the mess when I spotted the red and white lights of an ambulance. That usually meant I would be stuck in traffic no matter what sideroads I tried to take, so I sat back and tapped my fingers on the steering wheel in frustration.

Rather than waste the time, I reached for my phone and dialed my old coworker from the Public Defender’s Office. Stephen had been right next to me when the judge had waved us off and sentenced our clients to the maximum sentence for a joyride. He would want the updates I had on the Everson Juvenile Detention Center, and it wouldn’t hurt to see if he had any information that I didn’t.

“Rob!” the middle-aged lawyer greeted as he answered his cell.

He huffed and puffed, and I thought I heard the sounds of the community center in the background.

“Hey, Stephen,” I said with a grin even when the car in front of me slammed on their breaks. “Are you at the center?”

“Yeah, you finally gonna stop by?” the jovial man teased.

“No,” I replied. “I’m headed home from seeing my client at Everson’s.”

“The Fuentes kid?” the older lawyer asked.

His voice had lost the light-hearted tone, and the background fell away as he put some distance between himself and those around him.

“Yeah,” I said. “Have you been to see your kid?”

“Not yet,” he responded with a hint of guilt. “It’s been a hard two days with you gone. But I’m going to see him by the end of the week.”

“You should start the appeal now,” I told him. “That place is sketchy.”

“That bad?” Stephen asked.

“I didn’t see any abuse, but the guard was a little too eager to grab his baton,” I warned my ex-colleague.

“Damn,” the middle-aged lawyer muttered. “Alright, thanks for the heads up. That judge was too harsh. It shouldn’t be hard for us to get the boys out of there.”

“Hopefully,” I replied.

“Has Fuentes threatened you?” the ex-prosecutor asked.

“I just don’t like to lose,” I said. “And I hated to see my client there. I don’t think he’s slept at all. He’s fourteen. He shouldn’t have to be in juvie for a joyride when the car was fine.”

“True,” Stephen agreed, and I could almost picture him nodding his head. “I gotta go. But thanks for the heads up. Let me know if you find out anything else?”

“Sure,” I said. “Talk to you later.”

The line disconnected, and I put my phone in its dashboard holder. After another long stop and go stretch, I finally neared an exit that was close to my apartment. I made my escape from the highway and darted down the sidestreets to my building. Miraculously, my parking spot was open, and I swung in before anyone else could take it. I gathered my briefcase, suit jacket, and phone, then stepped out into a gentle breeze that chased away some of the Miami heat.

There was a black SUV across from my building, and I recognized the driver as the one I’d met the other night. He was in the driver’s seat with a cigarette in his mouth while another goon leaned against the hood with his arms over his chest. They didn’t even try to hide the fact that they were watching my apartment, and the man outside of the SUV clearly had a gun on his hip.

I gave them a wave as I went inside, since they would probably be there all night, and