Where Darkness Resides E-Book

Daniel Maldonado

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

While vacationing at the Regal Isabela resort in Puerto Rico, attorney Daniel Mendoza witnesses what he suspects is an abduction of a hotel guest. He and his private investigator, Pamela Williams, investigate the suspicious activity to determine what really happened.

After the trail goes cold, they both head back to Arizona where his team of attorneys are trying a wrongful death case filed against their client. Daniel, however, never arrives in court.

Is he still on the case of the kidnapped guest? Or did something tragic happen?

A riveting legal thriller, 'Where Darkness Resides' is the fourth book in the Daniel Mendoza Thrillers series.

 

Leseprobe

WHERE DARKNESS RESIDES

DANIEL MENDOZA THRILLERS

BOOK 4

DANIEL MALDONADO

CONTENTS

1. Isabela

2. Restrained

3. Voir Dire

4. Tossed

5. Inquiry

6. Opening Statements

7. Motions

8. Needs

9. Interviews

10. Darkness

11. Cross-Examination

12. Return

13. Memories

14. Playa

15. Darkness Twofold

16. Forensic Pathologist

17. Delirium

18. Motion Day

19. Office

20. Corina

21. Dinner

22. Copas

23. Widow

24. Out Of Order

25. Renewal

26. Realization

27. Airline

28. Hospital

29. Team Up

30. Negotiations

31. Confession

32. Driver

33. Video

34. Highway 18

35. Closing Argument

36. Cell Phone

37. The City of Fog

38. Interruption

39. One

40. Illness

41. Decision

42. Threats

43. Informed

44. Chase

45. Crash

46. Continuance

47. Courtroom

48. Chambers

49. Dismissed

50. Discussion

Next in the Series

About the Author

Bibliography

Dear Reader

Copyright (C) 2023 Daniel Maldonado

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2023 by Next Chapter

Published 2023 by Next Chapter

Edited by Graham (Fading Street Services)

Cover art by Lordan June Pinote

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

This book is dedicated to those attorneys at the firms I worked at over the last twenty-five years who inspired me to be the best attorney I could be.

Thanks for all of your support and encouragement.

1ISABELA

Isabela, Puerto Rico

Present Day

As the innumerable trees swayed with the Caribbean winds, the Regal Isabela Resort seemed ominous. The spectacular views of the Atlantic were unmatched because the resort was located high above the ocean floor. A unique hideaway in Puerto Rico, the Regal Isabela was well known for its championship golf course hugging the rocky promontory cliffs lining the island’s northern shore. Nature lovers also enjoyed the innumerable local birds who nested there. But what drew high-end customers to the resort was its Spanish architecture framed in palm trees and colorful tropical flowers. Every building and casita was constructed with brownish-grey stones and topped with clay roof tiles imported from Spain.

It felt like home, inviting and relaxing. For Daniel Mendoza, the resort would be his home away from home for the next week as he attended the resort’s tenth anniversary celebrations. After exiting the black limousine, Daniel strolled toward the main building to check-in.

“Buenos dias, Caballero. Welcome to the Regal Isabela,” the male attendant beamed during his greeting. “How may I help you, Mr. Mendoza?”

Although initially shocked he was instantly recognized because he’d never patronized the resort before, Daniel remembered Gerald Ravan, the resort’s corporate attorney, must have informed the staff of his imminent arrival because the corporation was paying his tab. The Regal Isabela was owned by the international hotel chain, The Regal Wisteria, headquartered in Tokyo. Mr. Ravan, a long-time client of the Mendoza law firm, arranged for the resort to pay for Daniel’s flight to the island from Arizona, the stretch limo that greeted him at the Luis Munoz Marin International Airport in San Juan, and, of course, the luxurious accommodations as well as all meals and activities throughout his stay. Daniel was relieved he could finally relax after his recent, grueling royalty litigation where several witnesses, attorneys, and even the federal judge were murdered to hide his client’s poor financial condition. Even Daniel could have been a potential victim but escaped with his life.

Now, the tragedy was all behind him. Daniel only wanted to get away from the dreary reminders in Arizona and focus on a lackadaisical vacation where all festivities were planned for him and he only needed to relax, soak in the sun, and enjoy five-star-rated meals. Regretting his new-found relationship with Corina wasn’t as close where she would have accepted an invitation to accompany him on this trip, Daniel traveled to his homeland alone somewhat forlornly. It wasn’t the first time he vacationed in Puerto Rico alone. It probably wouldn’t be the last.

“I’m checking in by…by myself,” he reluctantly responded to the attendant with a half-hearted smile.

After all, he was appreciative of the resort’s hospitality and didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

“Understood. We have you booked for casita number seven. It has an exquisite, ocean view and is located in the front row of the resort.” The attendant handed Daniel a magnetic key card and a cerulean blue wristband. “Put that on. You’ll need it around the premises, so security knows you’re our guest. It will also allow you to attend the celebrations.”

Daniel complied.

“Your luggage will be waiting for you in the casita,” he continued while double-checking his computer to ensure the key card was active. The attendant pointed towards the door to his right. “A golf cart is waiting to drive you to the casita. Just let us know if you need anything during your stay. We’d be happy to arrange any special activities just for you at the resort’s expense, of course.”

“Thank you. I’m very pleased to be here,” Daniel said as he walked to the door with a kick in his step.

The driver handed him a refreshment as Daniel scooted into the golf cart. The whirl of its electric motor propelled the golf cart along the pathway through the first set of casitas. It then rounded the corner away from the pool area on a larger pathway in front of the second set of casitas facing the ocean until the golf cart reached the third casita from the right, nestled lower into the mountain than the surrounding ones. Daniel tried to hand the driver a tip which was politely declined.

“No, thank you,” the driver said with a strong Puerto Rican accent. “Mr. Ravan has taken care of everything. There’s no need.”

As the golf cart headed back to the main building, Daniel walked into the casita, relieved the long journey was finally over. The dark wood flooring matched the two sturdy bookcases to the entrance of the bedroom as well as the heavy wood doors and the king-sized poster bed. Daniel was used to lavish rooms at the various hotels he’d stayed in owned by the Regal Wisteria throughout the world. But the Regal Isabela was the first posh hotel on the island owned by the corporation. He was pleasantly surprised at its grandeur and elegant design.

Daniel took another sip of his refreshment before setting the glass on a wooden table. He walked to the closet to pull out his luggage only to find out all of his formal clothes were hung up and his casual clothes were neatly placed in the dresser drawers. After finding his swim trunks, Daniel changed, grabbed a beach towel, and walked outside to the terrace so he could dip into the plunge pool. Placing his towel on the chaise lounge, Daniel was startled when he heard the female voice of the private investigator his law firm regularly retained.

“Look at you. It’s about time you arrived. I’ve been waiting for you,” Pamela Williams said as she waded in the plunge pool, her long blonde hair tied into a ponytail.

“Not again!! I can’t believe you’re here,” Daniel declared as he briefly clenched his teeth wondering how Corina would feel if she learned another woman was with him on vacation.

He finally relaxed after realizing it wasn’t as dire as he originally thought. Pamela was a lovely woman, two decades his junior, but they worked well together professionally.

Corina would understand it’s just business, he reassured himself.

“Don’t give me that. I know you’d rather not be alone in this lovely casita.”

Pamela splashed some refreshing pool water on Daniel in a playful way, hoping to ease the tension.

He joined her in the plunge pool and sat beside her. He took a deep breath and soaked in the views as the sun began to set.

“To be honest, I know I need time alone to decompress but after…you know… after all that’s happened, I’m not sure being alone will make things better.” Daniel was worried his mind would relive the experiences again and again if he wasn’t distracted. “I’m really glad you’re here, Pam.”

A beaming smile graced Daniel’s lips. He looked around because he wanted to make a toast but forgot he didn’t bring his glass with him.

“I knew you wanted me,” she chuckled. “We can order some champagne if you like. Room service should be here any moment. I ordered you the chew…chew….”

“Chuletas fritas,” Daniel interrupted.

“Yeah, the fried pork chops. You know what I meant,” she explained. “Rumor has it you wanted to order them when you got here.”

Initially pleased Pamela was thinking ahead, it suddenly dawned on him, “How did you know what I was…. Never mind.”

With an even bigger grin, Pamela simply ignored Daniel’s question and gazed over the rolling hills toward the azure waters of the Atlantic. She knew Daniel would one day figure it out. Just not today. She only wanted to enjoy their brief quiet time together before the food arrived and Daniel’s mind was distracted with sustenance and daily living. Daniel got the hint and drew closer to the edge of the plunge pool facing the ocean. He temporarily dipped his head underwater to cool himself down from the Caribbean’s warm climate and shook his head as he arose, spraying water in the air. Daniel was accustomed to the tropical humidity having vacationed in Puerto Rico every year for the past decade.

Being here made him feel exhilarated. Pamela could see it in his eyes and his demeanor. Gone were the deep contemplative thoughts about legal strategy and worries about an opponent’s nefarious machinations to obtain an advantage. Gone were the endless meetings with clients, new and old, both in person and over the computer to address some newfangled issue. Gone were the interpersonal squabbles with staff and attorneys where Daniel played interference to resolve any disputes and keep the cog of his boutique defense firm going without a hitch. Right now, it was just the two of them together. Not in a romantic way. At least not yet. It was good for this duo who worked closely over the years to just hang out and relax without any expectations.

Disturbing the serenity of the moment, an attendant approached from the side of the terrace pushing a cart. Two stainless steel plate covers protected their meals.

‘Buenas noches, Señor y Señora Mendoza,” the attendant said while placing their food on the patio table opposite the plunge pool. He also set down a bottle of champagne, utensils, and linen napkins.

Pamela and Daniel slowly eased out of the pool.

“Gracias,” Daniel expressed while drying himself with the towel.

Pamela raised the plate cover. “Looks delicious.” The aroma of shrimp and dorado wafted in the air. “My dinner smells good. I’m sure you’re jealous,” Pamela cajoled as she watched the water drip down his body. She resisted expressing her thoughts.

“Bueno provecho,” the attendant declared while exiting the terrace and walking along the outside of the casita.

Daniel sat down to eat. Pamela joined him. As Pamela expected, Daniel was focused on eating the meal and enjoying the lush surroundings. After eating several slices of pork, Daniel broke the silence.

“Isn’t your job going to miss you while you’re here?” he asked while scooping up a hefty morsel of mashed malanga which was reminiscent of mashed potatoes but made with a local root vegetable instead.

“Virginia and George are holding down the fort. They’re used to it now that I’m not working as much. You know…I’m spending more time with my dad.”

“How is your dad?” Daniel wondered.

“He has his good days and his bad days. But overall, he’s doing better.”

Pamela wanted to change the topic but was appreciative of Daniel expressing his concerns about her father’s well-being.

“Who’s holding down the law firm while you’re on vacation?” Pamela inquired. She knew the answer already but also enjoyed the lighter conversation…

“John and Marissa as usual. After all, they are the senior associates at the firm. They’re in court today for a wrongful death trial. l should be there with them since I’m the partner on the case and the client is expecting me to try it.” Daniel became worried but then it clicked. “Who am I fooling? The client is Regal Wisteria. They’re paying for all this and know I’m here instead of in court on their behalf.”

Daniel relaxed even further at the self-revelation.

“Nice!” Pamela exclaimed although she was already aware of the arrangement. Daniel told her before the trip but had apparently forgotten. Other things were obviously on his mind. “How are you and Corina doing?”

“We’re…well, we’re…”

Before Daniel could finish, loud yelling came from the adjacent casita, startling both of them. The sound of smashing dishes followed.

2RESTRAINED

Isabela, Puerto Rico

Moments Later

The lights at the adjacent casita, number eight, were quickly dimmed shortly after the commotion. The casita’s occupants did not want to bring any further attention to themselves from the other guests at the resort or worse yet, hotel security. Pretending the casita was unoccupied was a naive but workable ruse. After the door to the terrace was quickly closed, the older of two casually dressed men grabbed his cell phone and answered an unexpected call.

“Yes, Chango. We got him,” he excitedly proclaimed while wiping the sweat from his brow.

The younger man was restraining a third Puerto Rican male in a chair when the call came in. He forcefully tied a knot in the rope wrapped around the male’s waist while inconspicuously listening to the conversation.

“I don’t want you harming my son,” Chango demanded. “If anything happens to him…You don’t want to know what I’ll do to the two of you and to your.…”

Nervous at the implication, the man hesitantly replied, “Yes, boss. We…we will make sure he’s well taken care of. No need to worry.”

The older male gestured to his companion to ensure the captive was comfortable. He complied as best as he could while ensuring the restraints were secure. The last thing needed was an escape.

“Where are you? I’m coming over,” Chango inquired, anxious to finally see his son after a long time apart.

Jose “Chango” Quintana was the head of La Familia, a local Puerto Rican mafia. He was otherwise known as El Gran as were all the previous heads of the family. Chango had been El Gran for over two decades after his father was brutally murdered by a rival mafia during a turf war over drug routes in the Caribbean. Chango’s oldest son was groomed to eventually take over the family business, but greed and ambition overcame him. The son was banished to the States and charged with expanding the family business as punishment for secretly warring with some of the factions in La Familia. The meted punishment wasn’t what most of the faction’s members wanted. They wanted blood. However, Chango couldn’t betray his eldest son despite his despicable behavior.

While living in the States, drug sales steadily increased which also meant increasing the family’s wealth and influence in Puerto Rico. Chango became very proud of his son and hoped this would ease the tensions created by his son’s betrayal. It did not. Rival mafias were envious of his success. So were some of the family members who longed for a bigger piece of La Familia’s pie and influence, both politically and personally over the locals in their territory. But Chango wasn’t willing to cede any control to his copas. At least not yet. He was waiting for his son to return in triumph. Instead, Chango learned his son secretly returned to the island after additional disgraces of the family he had recently learned about.

“Boss, it’s too busy here. More than normal. The resort must be celebrating or something. I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to come. Not yet anyway,” the older man who apparently was a long-time soldier of the family explained.

“Dammit. How long do you think the celebrations will last?” Chango inquired.

The older male shrugged, not knowing what to tell his boss. He looked over to his companion for some insight.

“The banners said the celebrations last all week,” the companion clarified. He became concerned about changes to their original assignment.

“It doesn’t look like it’s going to die down anytime soon, boss. We’ll wait here until it’s dark and then sneak away,” the older male stammered. He wasn’t sure if the idea was acceptable, but it was all he could come up with at the time.

“Alright…alright. I’ll meet you at the office later tonight. Bring my boy with you.”

Chango abruptly hung up the phone, furious at the development, but happy his son was finally located.

Walking closer to his captive, the older male became more frustrated. He hadn’t planned on finding the son at the Regal Isabela resort amidst the celebrations but at a more private place where they could easily slip away. He also hadn’t planned on his boss finding out they had captured his son so quickly. He wasn’t sure if it was his partner who tipped the boss off or if they were being secretly followed by another member of the mafia. Giving Chango back his son was the original plan but when the other copas secretly offered him money to bring the son to them instead, things changed. He needed to figure out how to lose any tail or determine whether his younger partner would object if he was going to follow through with his promise to deliver Chango’s son to the copas and get paid a lucrative amount of money.

Maybe I should cut him in on the action, he thought. Eyeing his companion filled the man with disgust. I don’t want to share my take. But I may have to, he conceded.

Reluctantly, he motioned the younger man to follow him out to the terrace.

“What’s up? What do you need?” the younger companion asked inquisitively. He too was confused as to the new predicament and whether they were going to escape unseen from the resort with an unwilling captive in tow.

“Look, I know this is a unique assignment to say the least, but we…,” he walked further into the terrace to ensure his captive was not in earshot. “We can make a lot of money. You’re willing to make some money, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean money? This isn’t a paid gig.”

“Well, that’s what I’m talking about. You know Chango wants his son back. But others in the family want Chango’s son first if you know what I mean.”

He sighed at his comment knowing the weight of his secret mission was now in the open and he no longer had to hide it from his partner.

“I…I’m new to all this. I don’t know about it. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“You’ve heard he stole a lot of money and family heirlooms from some of the family members years ago. They’re still not happy about that. They want their money back. They’re willing to pay us if they can have first crack at him to see where he hid the money. What do you say? Are you in?”

After a long pause, the younger partner eagerly answered, “I’m in. But how are we getting out of here?”

“Leave that to me,” the older male said as he walked back into the casita.

3VOIR DIRE

Phoenix, Arizona

Same Day

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Judge Jessica Furman said as she dismissed the attorneys from the bench after a conference to discuss the next stage in the trial. The attorneys headed back to their respective tables. “We are now going to do voir dire. It’s a fancy word, I know, but it’s one of the few legal phrases not in Latin. It’s Anglo-Norman for the phrase ‘to tell the truth.’ This is when the attorneys decide which of you in the jury pool will sit as jurors in this case. I will first ask the jury some background questions. Then each side will have the opportunity to ask the entire panel questions to delve deeper into your background and any potential biases. It’s important to answer the questions truthfully. If there is a question you think is too personal to answer before the entire panel, please let the bailiff know and we can let you answer in private without the other members present.”

The sixteen jurors in the jury box as well as those in the gallery became even more attentive when they realized the trial was now focused on them. Several jurors’ smiles brightened. Others turned their attention from the judge to the attorneys seated at the counsel tables to prepare themselves for the questioning. A younger juror who was of college age was dozing off possibly due to all-night partying.

Judge Furman continued.

“The parties have prepared a brief statement I will read to you to give you a background of the case,” Judge Furman announced. She then faced the jury while holding the statement in the air with her right hand. “This case arises from a traffic collision that occurred west of 68th Street on Camelback Road in Scottsdale, Arizona, on May 2nd at approximately 1:15 p.m., between a car driven by Carlos Hernandez and a shuttle bus driven by Martin Weaver. Mr. Weaver was driving a shuttle bus owned by the Regal Phoenix Resort and Spa in the inside lane of westbound traffic on Camelback Road. Mr. Hernandez was driving his Lexus LC convertible in the middle lane of westbound traffic on Camelback Road. A collision occurred between the two vehicles and Mr. Hernandez was ejected from the vehicle and fatally injured. Mr. Hernandez’s estate contends Mr. Weaver’s vehicle encroached into Mr. Hernandez’s lane of traffic and struck his vehicle. Mr. Weaver contends Mr. Hernandez’s vehicle encroached into his lane of traffic and struck his vehicle.”

After reading the statement, the judge asked the jury questions regarding whether they were acquainted with the plaintiffs, the defendants, the attorneys assigned to the case, and the numerous witnesses who were going to testify during the trial. She then proceeded to ask them about their employment history, educational background, their age, and marital status and whether any jurors would have a hardship if they were assigned to a two-week jury trial.

The attorneys feverishly took notes as each of the jurors gave their answers to the judge’s questions. The attorneys for the Weavers and the resort, John Davis and Marissa Robles, each drew sixteen squares on a legal pad with each of the jurors’ numbers at the left corner of the square. They then wrote notes for each question answered by the juror so they could evaluate each juror at the end of voir dire and decide whether to strike or pass the juror. It was standard practice for attorneys to grid out the jury like this.

“Thank you, jurors. I am done with my questions. Mr. Clarkson, are you ready to ask questions on behalf of the plaintiffs?” the judge inquired.

“Yes, your honor,” the older attorney said as he stood up.

His silver hair was slick and professional despite his hometown drawl. When he approached the lectern, he dragged it across the floor so it would be centered to the juror box. His partner rushed over to assist him given its size.

“Thank you,” he said to his partner with a pleasant smile as he then faced the jury.

“My name is Doug Clarkson. My partner and I, Danica Bridgers, represent the Hernandez family. Unfortunately, Carlos Hernandez is no longer with us, but he would want an objective jury to resolve this case. So we, his wife, Selinda, and their two children want you to honestly answer our questions. If your answer is yes to the question, just raise your hand and I can follow up with additional questions if needed. Thank you.”

The jurors shook their heads in agreement.

“If you are selected to sit on this case, will you be able to render a verdict solely on the evidence presented at trial and in the context of the law as the judge will give in the jury instructions disregarding any other ideas, notions, or beliefs about the law you may have?”

Doug scanned the jury box as the jurors one by one slowly raised their hands indicating an affirmative answer. He nodded to each juror to acknowledge their response. One lonely juror failed to raise his hand. Doug eyed the juror to determine why he was the exception. “Juror number….”

“Number four,” the male said after double-checking his juror badge before answering.

“Yes, juror number four. Why do you feel you will be unable to follow the law as instructed by the court?”

“I don’t agree with the law. The laws are unjust and allow plaintiffs to recover loads of money like that woman suing McDonald’s for spilled coffee.” The juror was proud of his answer while the other jurors listened attentively to see how the attorneys reacted.

Doug proceeded to ask the juror questions to elicit answers about why he felt verdicts were high and if the juror could be fair and award the plaintiffs the millions of dollars they were requesting in this wrongful death case.

“Well, this case is different. I mean someone died. It’s not like they just scraped a knee or just got whiplash,” the juror explained.

“I appreciate you acknowledging the severity of this case. Do you think you are able to award the Hernandez family the money they deserve if you find the defendants caused the crash and my client did not?” Doug asked.

“Yes. Yes, I can,” the juror said reassuring himself.

The juror also hoped he reassured the plaintiffs’ counsel of his sincere objectivity. After being questioned, he was more personally invested in the case and wanted to be seated on the jury after all.

Doug asked the next question on his voir dire list.

* * *

During the break from questioning the jurors, John and Marissa were outside the courtroom in the hallway while watching the jurors file into the elevators in groups to head down to the first floor to patronize the courthouse’s restaurant. Once all of the jurors were no longer in the hallway, the two discussed the case.

“I can’t believe Daniel isn’t here right now,” Marissa remarked. “It’s not like him to miss a trial.”

“Didn’t he tell you he’s vacationing in Puerto Rico?” John asked.

“No. I…I’m shocked.”

“We’ll be okay. We’ve second chaired many trials. We can do this ourselves and make Daniel and our client proud. I’m sure Daniel’s confident in your skill level. I know I am.”

John didn’t want to appear patronizing, but both attorneys had been practicing for over seven years, most of that at the Mendoza law firm.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Marissa said as she took a deep breath, steadying herself for the long week ahead. “He deserves a vacation after everything he’s been through.”

“I’m sure he’s going to check in on us every day for an update,” John added although he had his own doubts about that.

He hoped Daniel would instead focus on enjoying himself in Puerto Rico. Upon his return, Marissa and John would announce their surprising victory. John could dream after all.

Mr. Weaver walked out of the courtroom and approached his attorneys.

“I wanted to thank you for representing us. You guys are doing an excellent job,” he declared.

“Thank you, Mr. Weaver,” Marissa replied.

“How is Rose doing?” John asked.

“She’s feeling better. She’s with our son right now,” Mr. Weaver explained.

“I’m glad the jurors met her before voir dire. A trial can be very stressful,” Marissa explained.

“Do you think the plaintiffs’ counsel will call her as a witness?” Mr. Weaver asked. “This is too much for her with her Alzheimer’s.”

“They won’t. They didn’t list your wife as a witness,” John said. “They can always change their minds, but plaintiffs’ counsel is aware of your wife’s Alzheimer’s, and they’re concerned about it tainting the jury with sympathy for you. They’ve filed a motion we’ve yet to argue with the judge.”

“Good.” Mr. Weaver was relieved.

“Are you taking notes too?” Marissa asked Mr. Weaver. “We’ll want your input on how you feel about the jurors and if there are any you have concerns about.”

“Oh yes, I am. Copious notes. I have a few concerns,” he added with a smile.

Before he could discuss them, the elevator doors opened, and the jurors filled the hallway again.

“Looks like the jurors are back. Remember the judge’s admonition. We can’t speak to the jurors. Just be polite and smile,” John reminded them both as he stood at attention and nodded to the jurors while they entered the courtroom.

* * *

When it was the defendants’ turn to question the potential jurors, Ms. Robles stood up and walked the well of the court - that area of the courtroom between the bench, the jury box, and counsel’s tables. She smiled at each of the jurors in the jury box.

“Mr. Clarkson asked you a lot of questions which makes my part really easy. I’m not going to repeat any questions already asked. I did have a few questions and I’ll be quick about it. First, if you were my clients would you have any issue with you being on the jury?”

The jurors seemed stumped by the question and pondered whether they could be fair and impartial. Several of the jurors immediately raised their hands affirming they would be good prospective jurors. One juror contacted the bailiff and whispered something to her. Marissa watched as the bailiff approached the judge. Summoning the attorneys to the bench, the judge then turned on the white noise generator to drown out their voices so the jury and anyone else in the courtroom couldn’t hear their discussion.

“We have an issue with juror number nine,” the judge explained. “Juror number nine would like to discuss his answer in private. We can discuss it in my chambers. Is that acceptable to counsel?”

“That’s fine, your honor,” Mr. Clarkson responded.

“I’m fine with that also,” Marissa said.

The judge, the juror, the court reporter, and the attorneys walked into the judge’s chambers for privacy without having to dismiss the entire courtroom. Once the court reporter was situated with her portable stenograph, the judge proceeded.

“Juror number nine, I understand you wanted to discuss your answer to Ms. Robles’ latest question in private,” the judge asked.

The juror was nervous but felt compelled to disclose his beliefs.

“Yes, your honor. I am sure Mr. Clarkson’s clients will want to know this but given my experience, I would be biased.”

“Why is that?” the judge inquired.

She, as well as the attorneys, were perplexed by the juror’s revelation given the positive answers the juror gave during the questioning so far. The juror appeared to be neutral, and a likely candidate selected by either party to be seated as a juror.

“Well, I could not find in favor of Hispanics. In my experience, they are reckless drivers and cause accidents.”

The juror was not embarrassed by his statement which he firmly believed.

“Thank you,” the judge said. “Can you wait outside with the bailiff while I discuss with the attorneys?”

The juror rose from his chair and walked to the hallway outside the judge’s chambers, closing the door behind him.

“Mr. Clarkson, I take it you will have no problem dismissing the juror for cause,” the judge declared.

“No, your honor. We appreciate the juror’s truthfulness in this matter. It’s better we learn it now before trial.”

“Agreed,” the judge replied. “Ms. Robles?”

“I have no objections to that, your honor.”

“It’s settled then. We will thank and dismiss juror number nine.”

4TOSSED

Isabela, Puerto Rico

Later That Evening

After eating flan for dessert, Pamela wiped her mouth with a linen napkin, placed it on the table, and leaned back on her chair.

“I’m full,” she announced.

Bursts of cool Caribbean wind refreshed her. Daniel was also pleased and not just with the meal. Dinner went better than expected. The small talk was pleasant and unrelated to either of their jobs. It was focused mainly on Puerto Rico and its rich culture and diversity. Daniel welcomed the discussion because it refreshed his soul and helped him reminisce about his previous visits to the island.

“What’s on the agenda tonight?” Daniel asked with a gleaming smile.

The anniversary celebrations had already started, but Daniel wasn’t sure if they should participate in the hotel festivities or just relax in the casita after his long flight. He hoped Pamela had an idea or two which would make the evening even more special. A part of him, however, wished he could have shared these moments with Corina instead. He unexpectedly imagined what she was doing. Images of her beautiful smile overtook him. Shaking these thoughts, he instead focused on enjoying the time with Pamela. She was here and deserved his undivided attention.

“Well,” he added after composing himself.

“I don’t know. You know me. I’m always up for some fun. Real fun, but….”

Pamela’s eyes widened as if her mind was working overtime. She hesitated in sharing her thoughts with Daniel out of concern for ruining their lovely evening.

“What is it? I know you, Pam. Something’s ruminating in that crazy head of yours. Don’t pretend it isn’t?”

He laughed.

Daniel didn’t expect her response.

“It’s just that…you know…after all the loud noise we heard from the casita next to us, I thought maybe someone may be hurt. I’m concerned,” Pamela explained.

“Why didn’t you mention that before? We could have done something earlier.” Daniel stood up and looked across the bushes into the neighboring casita’s terrace. “Looks like all the lights are off.”

Pamela walked closer in hopes of seeing something revealing. She didn’t. Like Daniel said, the terrace was completely empty. There were no signs of broken dishes or that anyone had actually been on the terrace. Nevertheless, something made Pamela eerily suspicious.

“I’m going to change really quickly and walk next door if you don’t mind. You’re welcome to come.”

She walked into the casita, fully expecting Daniel to follow without looking back. When she heard his footsteps behind her, she smiled. They both changed into casual resort wear skipping a shower so they could check the next casita without further delay.

“I smell like chlorine,” Daniel said as he sniffed his arm. He sprayed cologne to mask the smell.

“They won’t mind,” Pamela responded as she exited the casita and walked the few steps to the next one.

“Hello.”

Knocking on the door, Pamela couldn’t hear anything from inside. She pressed her ear to the door but still nothing. The noise from the celebration drowned out even the sound of her voice when she repeated her greeting.

Daniel tried to look inside the casita.

“It’s hard to tell if anyone’s home,” he said after moving his head in every direction of the window to inside the casita as best he could. “Are you sure we even heard anything coming from their terrace? Maybe it was just the sounds of celebration? That’s all.”

He double-checked in anticipation of Pamela instructing him to do so. When she noticed him doing it, she quickly stopped herself from admonishing him.

“I’m going inside,” she declared.

“Wait. You can’t do that. What if there are people inside, you know…?”

She glared at him with a strange look.

“You know what I mean. Making love. They wouldn’t want us barging in the middle of that. We could get in trouble,” he declared.

Daniel looked around for resort security in case but saw none.

“I’m used to awkward situations,” she explained. “It won’t be a big deal. I’ll talk myself out of it. You’re an attorney. You can talk yourself out of a paper bag.”

Pamela laughed as she worked her magic on the casita door lock. She opened it slowly to avoid startling any guests.

“Is anyone home?” Pamela asked as she walked deeper into the dark casita.

The lights were off. She found the light switch and turned it on. The casita was a mess.

“Looks like someone ransacked it,” Daniel said as he stood next to her. “Drawers are open. Clothes are haphazardly strewn everywhere. I wonder what they were looking for?”

Daniel walked towards the dresser for any clue.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Pamela added.

She too searched the casita to determine the nature of things.

“I only see male clothes,” Daniel announced as he tossed something aside to look further into the drawer.

He then picked up some clothes from the floor and returned them to their place in the dresser. He hoped clearing the mess might reveal something. It did. He saw an airline ticket on the floor, picked it up, and read the name on it - “C. Quintana.”

I wonder who that is, he thought.

Meanwhile, Pamela searched the wooden desk on the opposite side of the casita.

“Looks like there was a laptop here,” she said.

The laptop power cord was still plugged into the outlet, but it lay lifeless on the desk as if the laptop was suddenly pulled away without any regard for what it was connected to. Pamela read the papers and booklets scattered on the desk for any clues. They were mainly local travel information for guests unfamiliar with the area. Nothing was helpful or suggested anything about the occupant or what was on the laptop.

Daniel found a chair in the middle of the casita’s living room. He could smell sweat and blood emanating from the rope still loosely wrapped around the bottom of the chair. The back legs appeared slightly bent as if an individual restrained in the chair was beaten or even tortured. Daniel wondered if it was just his imagination getting the best of him.

“Pamela, I think you’ll want to see this,” Daniel excitedly uttered. His heart was racing.

She came rushing towards him.

“What did you find? Oh my!!”

She carefully examined the chair without touching it or removing anything attached to it.

“Now, I told you something strange happened here,” Pamela said.

She wanted to add she regretted not coming sooner. Her mind imagined stopping the culprit or possibly preventing the escape.

Daniel knew all too well what Pamela was thinking and any regret she felt.

“Don’t blame yourself, Pam. We don’t know how many people were here. We could have walked into a hornet’s nest.”

Nothing Daniel could say would assuage Pamela’s conscience.

5INQUIRY

Isabela, Puerto Rico

The Next Day

Walking towards the main building of the Regal Isabela resort, Pamela and Daniel were mystified after searching casita number eight. Daniel showed Pamela the airline ticket he found on the floor. He believed it was a clue but what it meant or who it referred to, they didn’t know.

“It could have been left by a guest from a previous stay,” Pamela mused. “Who knows how long it’s been there?”

“I’ve stayed at numerous Regal Wisteria resorts. I know they are meticulous in cleaning their suites. They’re proud of their impeccable customer service. I don’t think they would have allowed another guest to stay in the casita with belongings from the previous guest, especially with their anniversary celebration looming.”

“You may be right, but everyone makes a mistake. No one is perfect. Not even the cleaning crew.”