Even as a young girl, however, Rylann had quickly realized one thing about those stories: she didn’t like it when the bad guys won. And from those seeds, her career as an assistant U.S. attorney had sprung.
Rylann spoke with her mother for a few more minutes, until her door buzzer rang. Then she ran downstairs to collect her food, and settled in for the night with her case files, a carton of kung pao chicken, and a glass of a Riesling she’d scored in the post-breakup division of the wine collection she and Jon had owned. Yet another quiet Friday evening, like many others she’d had over the last six months.
And, wow, she’d just come dangerously close to feeling sorry for herself there. Good thing she had work to focus on—that, at least, never changed.
Seated at the kitchen counter, she read through the files. Despite the fact that the Brown case was neither the biggest nor the most glamorous case she had ever handled, she’d already bumped it up to the top of her priority list. First of all, a man had been brutally beaten to death. Not much got the prosecutorial juices flowing more than that. Second, the case was clearly important to the U.S. attorney. And if the case was important to Cameron, there was no way that Rylann, the “new girl,” was going to screw it up.
Which meant that she and Kyle Rhodes had some unfinished business to tend to.
ON MONDAY MORNING, Rylann strode into the office charged and ready to take on a certain billionaire heir ex-con.
As soon as she’d settled in at her desk, she looked up the phone number for the law firm representing Kyle. Technically, she was permitted to contact him directly, since the matter she wanted to speak to him about wasn’t one for which he had obtained counsel or was under investigation. Nevertheless, she thought it prudent to reach out to his attorneys first as a courtesy.
A courtesy that, unfortunately, was not returned.
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told the FBI, Ms. Pierce. You’re out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m letting you talk to my client,” was the blistering reply from Mark Whitehead, Kyle’s lead defense attorney. “Not after the way your office railroaded him five months ago.”
“This has nothing to do with Mr. Rhodes’s case,” Rylann said in her best let’s-be-friends voice. “I’d like to speak to him about an ongoing investigation pertaining to an incident that occurred two weeks ago at Metropolitan Correctional Center. While I’d prefer not to get into specifics over the phone, I can assure you that your client isn’t under suspicion for any criminal activity in this matter.”
Mark scoffed at that. “My client wasn’t even at MCC two weeks ago. He’d been released prior to that.”
“Even more reason for you to trust me when I say he isn’t under suspicion.”
“It’s still a no. If you want to talk to Kyle Rhodes, go get a subpoena,” Mark said.
“With all due respect, we both know that I don’t need your permission. I’ll contact Mr. Rhodes directly if I have to,” Rylann said.
Mark laughed. “Good luck with that. I’m sure the Twitter Terrorist has several things he’d love to say to the U.S. Attorney’s Office. Although I doubt any of them would be helpful to your investigation.”
“We can do this the easy way, Mark, or I can go to the grand jury and drag him in. And if I have to do that, you don’t get to be there,” Rylann pointed out. It was the best card she could play, the fact that witnesses weren’t permitted to bring counsel into the grand jury room.
“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” Mark sighed. “And I thought Morgan was a pain in the ass. All right, I’ll call Rhodes. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.”
Rylann hung up the phone, satisfied to have made at least some progress. She wasn’t sure what Kyle’s response would be given his history with her office, although she’d fully prepared herself for something along the lines of Kiss my felonious ass, counselor.
She smiled to herself at the thought. Let him try to ignore her. She could be quite persistent when she wanted to be.
A few minutes later, Rylann heard a knock at her door and saw a tall, very attractive man with brown hair standing in her doorway—a man she recognized from the press coverage of the Twitter Terrorist case.
The elusive Cade Morgan had finally made his appearance.
“I think I owe you a cup of coffee,” he said with a grin.
Rylann gestured to a Starbucks cup already sitting on her desk. “You’re off the hook. I’m fully caffeinated.”
He walked over to shake her hand. “Cade Morgan. I hear you covered my case on Tuesday.”
“No problem. I was happy to help.”
“Sorry I didn’t drop by earlier to introduce myself,” he said. “I was on trial all last week. Just got my jury verdict.”
“How did it go?”
“Convicted on all five counts.”
“That explains the victorious glow. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I heard you picked up an interesting homicide case yourself,” Cade said. “Since I handled the Twitter Terrorist case, Cameron thought I should know that Kyle Rhodes might be one of your witnesses.” He leaned back against the bookshelf, looking casually self-assured in his navy pin-striped suit. “I don’t know if Cameron warned you, but I wouldn’t expect much cooperation from Rhodes. I probably burned that bridge by calling him a terrorist.”
Personally, Rylann had always thought that was extreme. But since she generally tried to avoid judging how other AUSAs handled their cases, she went with a more diplomatic answer. “You were obviously very passionate about that case.”