Lawyer Trap Read Free Page A

the down button. When the elevator doors opened, he hesitated, then stepped inside and pressed the button for the parking garage. Sydney—visibly startled—stepped inside with him.
    Before the doors shut he jumped out.
    He returned the bill down in the parking garage.
    â€œTry me again tomorrow with a twenty,” he said.
    They headed north on Broadway in his Tundra, with the windows cracked just enough to let in air but not noise. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect, eighty and sunny. He flicked the radio stations, finally stopping at “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad.”
    â€œDoes this car even get black music?” Sydney asked.
    He raised an eyebrow and realized that sometimes he actually forgot that she was African American, born and raised in Five-Points.
    â€œWhat? You don’t like Meat Loaf?”
    â€œNo, I like steak,” she said.
    He smiled and added, “He was in Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œMeat Loaf. He was in the Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œWhat do you mean—what’s that? You never saw the Rocky Horror Picture Show?”
    â€œNo, what is it?”
    â€œHave you ever danced the Time Warp?”
    She looked at him weird. “No more coffee for you,” she said. “Tell me about your meeting with Davica Holland this morning.”
    He did.
    Leaving out the bedroom scene.
    â€œShe did everything she could to incriminate herself,” he said. “Either because she’s innocent and doesn’t care what we find, or because she’s guilty and wants to appear so innocent that she doesn’t care what we find.”
    â€œSo which is it?”
    â€œI don’t know. I need more time with her.”
    Fifteen minutes later, they ended up driving through weeds and dirt down an old abandoned BNSF railroad spur north of downtown. Teffinger parked the vehicle and they hoofed it down the tracks for about fifty steps. Then they walked north for thirty yards until they came to the shallow grave where Angela Pfeiffer’s body had been found.
    â€œWhat are we looking for, exactly?” Sydney asked.
    Teffinger shrugged and raked his hair back with his fingers. It immediately flopped back down over his forehead.
    â€œWhatever we missed the first time,” he said.
    Three geese flew overhead.
    The grave had been shallow; in fact, not more than six inches deep. Either the digger tired easily—say, a woman—or didn’t really care how deep the grave was, just so long as the body was hidden from sight.
    Ten yards farther past the gravesite was a concrete retaining wall, about four feet high. Teffinger got on top and scouted around. The ground on the other side came up to about two feet from the top of the wall.
    Teffinger jumped back down on the track side of the wall and called Sydney over.
    â€œHow much do you weigh?” he asked.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œJust indulge me,” he said. “How much?”
    â€œI don’t know,” she said. “One twenty-five, maybe.”
    Good.
    That was about the same weight as the dead woman.
    â€œDo me a favor and lay down on the ground,” he said. “I’m going to see how hard it is to lift you up and get you over this wall.”
    She looked at him as if he was crazy.
    â€œI don’t think so,” she said.
    â€œCome on,” he said. “It’s for the case. If I was going to dump a body here, I would have put it on the other side of this wall if I could.” Still, she hesitated. “Come on, lay down and be dead.”
    She did.
    â€œOkay, here we go,” he said. “Stay limp.” Then he reached down, picked her up and muscled her to the top of the retaining wall, finding it more difficult than he at first thought, but not an all-out effort.
    She hopped down and brushed herself off.
    â€œSatisfied?”
    He was.
    â€œMost women wouldn’t be able