Page 31 of Burning Justice

The judge wasted no time getting to the point. “Please be seated. This is a continuation of proceedings pertaining to Mr. Gavin Aldrich, charged with arson involving multiple dumpster fires, two warehouse fires, and potentially, felony murder.” She picked up a report. “I’m in receipt of a letter to the court provided by the Pine Springs Mental Health Treatment Center. It contains a preliminary psychiatric assessment report on Mr. Aldrich. Ms. Moran, any comments?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” AUSA Moran stood, looking to Gemma even more chic in a snug-fitting peacock-blue skirt and jacket suit than the first time she’d seen her. “Based upon information recently supplied to me by the ATF, we’d be amenable to dismissing the charges of arson as it relates to the recent warehouse fires and felony murder, but not for arson as it relates to the multiple dumpster fires.”

The prosecutor sat, then, in an intimate gesture, placed her hand on Brett’s biceps and whispered something in his ear. Gemma wondered if the woman was attracted to him. Then again, what woman wouldn’t be? While she’d been helping him with his tie, she’d gotten a closeup view of his handsome face, his strong neck, that chiseled jaw. And lungfuls of that sexy cologne.

“Mr. Manning?” Judge Tafoya said as she made a few notes.

“Your Honor.” Manning stood, holding a document. “I understand the government’s position; however, in light of information contained within this report, we request Your Honor recommend treatment at this time, with formal charges deferred pending Mr. Aldrich’s final psychiatric assessment.”

From her position three rows behind AUSA Moran, Gemma saw the prosecutor shaking her head as she stood. “Your Honor, the government must object. Two years ago, Mr. Aldrich was released from a mental health facility. Since then, he’s shown a proclivity for setting fires that could have, had the wind been strong enough on those days, kicked off massive fires. In recent years, the State of Colorado and many other states have been plagued by devastating fires, many of which were started intentionally. For the dumpster fires, the government’s position remains the same pertaining to those charges as filed.”

“I understand both the defense and the government’s positions.” Judge Tafoya nodded to both the AUSA and the public defender. “I admit that I’m on the fence about this. I understand there are extenuating circumstances in Mr. Aldrich’s past, but even a dumpster fire can get out of control.”

The judge flipped through a file, then looked at her laptop. “As Ms. Moran pointed out, in our dry climate, all it takes is one spark blown in the wrong direction. An entire community can be destroyed, ravaged by fire. We’re seeing that all over the country. Arson is a serious matter, no matter what emotional reasons may be at the root cause.”

Oh boy. As it had before, Gemma’s heart went out to Gavin Aldrich. Unless divine intervention struck, and fast, the judge would accept the government’s charges. After that, Gavin would likely wind up incarcerated, rather than be given the help he so obviously and desperately needed.

Manning remained silent, but Gemma didn’t miss the meaningful look he threw at the prosecution’s table. He was waiting, but for what?

“Your Honor.” To Gemma’s surprise, Brett stood. She wasn’t an expert in court proceedings by any stretch, but even she knew that unless it was a trial with witnesses, the prosecutor was the sole mouthpiece for the government. For an investigator to initiate a statement to the court was well outside normal procedure. “May I address the court?”

The AUSA remained seated, but her neck whipped around as she stared up at Brett. Make that glared. A hint of a smile played at Manning’s lips.

The judge’s brows soared to her immaculately coiffed hairline. “This is highly unusual. Ms. Moran? Any objections?”

AUSA Moran shot to her feet, whispering to Brett, who said something that seemed to mollify the prosecutor.

The AUSA took a deep breath that threatened to pop the buttons off her tight suit jacket. “No, Your Honor.” The way she sat in a huff said otherwise.

“Mr. Manning?”

Manning shook his head emphatically. “No, Your Honor. We welcome Agent Tanner’s input.”

“Very well.” Judge Tafoya waved a hand in the air. “Agent Tanner, you may continue.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” he began. “I have something to say that I believe is relevant to Mr. Aldrich and may impact your decision as to whether he’ll be remanded to jail or receive psychiatric treatment.”

“Ms. Moran,” the judge interrupted, “why wasn’t I made aware of this information in writing and prior to these proceedings?”

The prosecutor stood briefly. “Because I wasn’t aware of them until precisely sixty seconds ago.” This time, there was no mistaking the irritation on the woman’s face. She might have the hots for Brett, but she didn’t like being overstepped. That, Gemma could relate to.

“Your Honor,” Brett continued, “in Ms. Moran’s defense, the reason she wasn’t aware of what I’m about to share with the court is that it isn’t evidentiary in nature.”

“Then what exactly is it?” the judge asked.

“It’s uh”—he cleared his throat—“personal,” Brett answered.

Whoa. This oughta be interesting.

“When I was eleven years old,” Brett began, “my friends and I broke into an old, abandoned house for a sleepover. It was my idea, and I convinced my friends to lie to their parents, each of us saying we were staying at the other’s house for the night. The place was condemned, but the electricity hadn’t been shut off yet. It was winter, so we cranked up the space heater.” He paused and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “We were telling jokes, doing our best to gross each other out. We accidentally knocked over the heater and started a fire. It spread quickly, blocking the door, and we…couldn’t get out.”

Gemma’s stomach roiled. When they’d been in her office discussing the various causes of all the accidental house fires and she’d mentioned space heaters, she’d detected Brett’s reaction. Now she understood the source of it. Whatever he was going to say next wouldn’t be good.

“The fire department came. They managed to get me out.” Brett’s suit jacket tightened across his broad back as he took yet another deep, steadying breath. “My friends didn’t make it.”

Oh God.

Gemma clapped a hand over her mouth. Hushed whispers came from the other people seated on the benches. She remembered that fire. It was all over the news. She’d been eight years old at the time. Afterward, her parents had sat down with her and her brothers, warning them about the dangers of space heaters. The similarities between this fire and the Torrance Lane fire were eerily similar. No wonder Brett was so vested in this case.