“How would you explain this antagonism?” I asked him.
“I never got to know them too well, so I don’t know what was on their mind. Maybe they just didn’t want Jennifer to be happy.”
I wondered how a jury would receive such a confession at trial. How was it possible that a man who claimed to be profoundly in love with a woman never found the time or common ground to get to know her parents?
“They didn’t support you as a couple or just you, Jack?”
“Why does it matter?
“Because if they did not support you as a couple, that suggests they didn’t encourage a relationship between a daughter they loved and a man who didn’t deserve her. It doesn’t mean they were bad parents just because they did not agree with Jennifer’s choice. That raises more questions about you than about them, Jack.”
“But if they did not like Jack, can that suggest that Jennifer’s parents were prejudiced against him?”
My jaw clenched, and Drake’s mouth quivered.
“Jack was their daughter’s choice, and if they supported her like you say, Ms. Burton, shouldn’t they have supported Jack as well?”
When you loved someone, you couldn’t support the people set on ruining them. I didn’t bother to explain that to Cameron Drake, who gifted me with a splendid Cheshire cat smile. I had been right, but Drake was skilled enough to turn the tables and paint a pair of grieving parents into two people hostile to their own daughter’s dreams.
“But like you pointed out, they didn’t like Jack at all, and they didn’t get along with their daughter,” Drake added. “In fact, they refused to attend the party, and they hadn’t rsvp’d to the wedding invitation either, so we can only assume they didn’t intend to participate. They were getting impatient, desperate even, that nothing they had done convinced Jennifer to end the engagement. So the correct question, I think, should be who wanted to incriminate and get rid of Jack? Nolan Gunnar seemed very interested in getting rid of Jack.”
I wasn’t entirely sure whether I gasped or stopped breathing altogether. When I realized that Jack looked just as dumbfounded as I felt, I almost gave in to hysterics. Then rage settled in, potent and destructive. I feared Jack’s mood swings were rubbing off on me.
“I will not stand for you disparaging a father who is mourning her daughter, Drake.”
“You might forget our client is Jack, Charlotte,” Drake cajoled, but behind the sweetly spoken words, there stood a threat. “I deeply feel for their loss, but we are not grief counselors. Anything that helps Jack’s case is fair game.”
At first, Jack didn’t seem to agree, but eventually, he turned his attention to whatever was happening beyond that window and back to another cigarette.
“Nolan Gunnar might have had motive to want Jack out of Jennifer’s life, but he didn’t have the motive to want his own daughter dead.”
“Nolan Gunnar is a cop. He has connections, and clearly, he has people who owe him. I’m not trying to say he wanted his daughter killed. I’m trying to say he might have had a plan to get rid of Jack and it backfired.”
“It’s a theory as good as any,” Cole agreed.
Glaring at both men, I understood I had built an aversion toward Drake only when Cole joined him. At that moment, I hated them both, but if this was how the trial would play out, I was going to hate myself immensely more for being a part of it.
In a show of impulsiveness, I stood, pulled my notes together, and shoved them in my bag, then I slung it over my shoulder, ready to leave. Drake seemed taken aback by my rashness as he jumped to his feet and rounded the table to block my way. Cole remained in his chair, looking over his files and wearing his trademark smile.
“We are not always going to agree, Charlotte,” he began conciliatorily.
“I am aware of that, but at the moment, I think we’ve said everything there was to say.”
He wasn’t used to being conciliatory, let alone groveling, so when he came face to face with my staunch stance, he stepped aside, straightened, and walked back to his seat like a peacock.
“We should start gathering evidence that Jack was nowhere near the crime scene when it happened,” Drake said, arching an eyebrow as he spoke as if he wanted to reiterate his earlier words. We were defending Jack, and everything was fair game. “And we should start doing so by deposing every person of importance that attended that party.”
I nodded, but given that we weren’t going to do that today, I didn’t want to spend another minute in their company. I left Drake Kendrix Zane in a hurry, and by the time I shut the door of my hotel room, I felt drained, and my hands were trembling uncontrollably. Perhaps the correct questions had been all along: who benefited from Jennifer Gunnar’s death and why?
My phone buzzed in my bag, and I all but ignored it. When it buzzed again, curiosity got the better of me. There were three messages from Marcus, telling me that he missed me, that he was looking forward to surprising me on Friday, and that he wanted me to call him when I was free because he wanted to make sure that I was alright.
His solicitousness and worry, even his name flashing on my screen, triggered conflicting emotions. I smiled, but I was also on the verge of tears.
I dialed his number and sighed with relief when he answered on the first ring.
“I miss you too,” I told him and wished I could surrender in his arms and feel his lips pressed to my forehead.
“Look in your suitcase, Charlotte,” Marcus instructed. His manner might have been brusque, but his voice was intense and thick with longing.
I walked over to the bed and flipped open my luggage. Tucked in the front shell, there was a package wrapped in silk paper with a note attached to it.
For when you miss me, was written in cursive letters that I recognized as Marcus’s handwriting.
I removed the contents and laid them on the comforter, then I started giggling. He had packed the shirt he had been wearing three nights ago when we made love and a small bottle of his shower gel, which I had used the following morning.
“You’re already much closer now,” I chuckled as I brought his shirt to my nose. It smelled clean like it had been recently washed and ironed, but it still carried an undertone of Marcus’s personal scent.
“You displayed a fondness for them, so I thought you’d like to have them with you.”
“When did you slip them in my bag?”
“I have my ways,” he replied cockily.
“Thank you,” I sobbed and leaned against the pillow with Marcus’s shirt clasped to my chest. It wasn’t as good as having him hold me, but it was the next best thing.
“For the shirt or the shower gel?”
“For giving me a reason to smile.”
We didn’t say anything more. We didn’t need to. Marcus breathed evenly, and the little sounds he made calmed the storm in my head.
The knock at the door startled me, and for a tiny second I just hoped that I would open the door to find him leaning against the doorframe with a lopsided grin and utterly unorthodox intentions in his eyes.
“I have to go,” I told him with regret. It wasn’t Marcus knocking on my door but a mailman holding a yellow envelope.
In the envelope, there was an unlabeled DVD and a business card—Leon Holden’s business card. I flipped it over just as I pushed the DVD in my laptop and read the message on the back of the card.
‘Is this the man you want to defend?’
Holden’s message became clearer once the DVD started playing. It was footage from the night Jennifer Gunnar was killed. I fast forwarded through the actual party and didn’t fail to notice that some parts of the footage had been cut out.
It was unnerving to see a woman so full of life and joy and know that her existence had been nipped in the bud. She was stunning, as Jack had said, and had a sense of fashion that, although reasonably elegant, indicated that she might have been trying to compensate with luxurious clothing for other shortcomings. She flashed her engagement ring at everybody who a
sked, laughed, and attended to every guest.
On the other hand, Jack seemed to be mostly absorbed by a bald man wearing jeans and a gray shirt, whose face the cameras never managed to capture fully. Perhaps it was the Vinny Savidge, whom Jennifer didn’t like. Perhaps it was another man altogether, but it was certainly someone who was giving Jack terrible news. His expression as he slammed a glass against the countertop of the bar was thunderous.
Then Jennifer was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Jack. The footage was discontinued again, then there was a last image of Jack with his head bowed low and his body stiff, hurrying down a corridor. He left behind room after room, making it obvious that he was heading for room 311—Jennifer’s suite.
I removed the DVD from my laptop and decided to pay Holden a visit. I wasn’t entirely sure why he had sent me this footage, but whatever his reasons, I was certain he had ulterior motives. Unlike him, when I had a message to deliver, I had the courtesy to do it in person.
I was led to Holden’s office by an assistant who wasn’t very pleased to be forced to leave her desk, or chair for that matter. Holden stood and circled his desk, greeting me with a quizzical smile like he hadn’t been waiting for me, but wasn’t surprised to receive me either.
“Ms. Burton, what a surprise,” he said, although we both knew it wasn’t a surprise at all.
While he perused me, I swiped a glance over his neat office and nearly felt disappointed. I had expected some extravagance from the great Leon Holden or some particularity of his authoritative character to personalize his workplace.
The room was half the size of my New York office and empty save for a tremendously massive desk with a comfortable leather chair behind it and two smaller replicas in front of it. A coat rack was set to the left, two enormous file cabinets rested to the right, and nothing else. The monochrome theme and austerity of the space were somewhat depressing.
“I hoped we could talk.”
“Please, take a seat. How may I help you?”
His practiced courtesy didn’t deceive me. He watched me precisely like a buyer who, spotting an item of interest at an auction, was set to have it. Leon Holden was not inclined to help me but keen on exploiting me in order to help himself. Once I sat, he resumed his seat, unfastening the sole button of his jacket. I met his eyes unflinchingly, nearly defiantly. His mouth curved just a notch before he flattened his lips in a straight line.
“What is your angle?”
My straightforwardness seemed to take him by surprise, and I couldn’t help but feel pleased. Holden recovered quickly and laughed, ultimately enjoying that I didn’t beat around the bush.
“I have no angle. I’m looking for the truth, and I think you are a woman who appreciates it as much as I do.”
“I do want to reveal the truth, Holden, but I believe you are underestimating me. If you think that I am easily manipulated, then perhaps you are not as sharp as the media portrays you to be.”
“I wouldn’t dare underestimate you. Actually, I’m counting on your instincts and abilities.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He just smiled and massaged his closed mouth with his thumb. He had planted a seed and now was waiting to reap what he had sowed. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but regardless of my bravado, he had brought my skepticism about Jack Stewart’s innocence to new extremes.
While Drake and Cole fought to defend him no matter the cost or the ethical breaches, I could not defend Jack if he did not deserve it.
When Holden didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, I stood stiffly and flattened my palms over the soft material of my dress. His eyes followed my movements with tense concentration, small creases forming across his forehead. He didn’t know what to make of me or of my responses, and that nearly made me smirk.
Keeping off-kilter a man of his type was key in successfully dealing with him. If I wanted to achieve my goal, I needed to maintain the upper hand.
“I’m not going to collude, counselor.”
“It would be collusion if you used what I gave you in favor of your client, and there’s no way in hell you could use that in his favor. Moreover, as of an hour ago, your team was notified that we have this footage.”
I nodded though I was confused about my sudden sense of disappointment. For some reason, knowing that Drake had seen the footage didn’t sit well with me, but Holden was right. We couldn’t base our defense on the footage he had disclosed unless—unless Drake planned on using it to find someone to pin the murder on. My stomach turned, and bile rose in my throat. The idea didn’t seem unlikely since he had already tried to implicate Nolan Gunnar in his own daughter’s murder.
“Are you alright, Charlotte?” Holden asked, his sympathy either genuine or expertly counterfeited.
I waved his question like nothing was really happening and refrained from saying that it could also be collusion if I ended up helping him put Jack behind bars. There was no doubt in my mind now that before I moved forward with this case, I needed tangible proof of Jack’s innocence.
I nearly gave in to another hysterical streak of laughter, thinking of Mitch Stewart and how he would react if he found out that a lawyer on his son’s defense team searched for evidence that might incriminate him.
“I’m not your tool, Holden,” I told him, my voice coming out more aggressive than I had intended. “Don’t treat me as such.”
I left his office with a strong feeling of nausea and a stronger wish to just go home, but for tonight, Marcus’s shirt had to be enough to keep me warm and settled.
Chapter 21
Marcus
“Where are we going?”
Charlotte’s increasing curiosity and impatience brought to mind the countless text messages she had sent me the previous night, asking the very same question she was asking me now. I winked secretively, slid into my seat, and turned on the engine without offering her an answer.
“You did it to yourself, you know?” I told her when she pouted prettily. “I had no intention of making you curious, but the sight is too appealing to resist.”
“You’re cruel,” she accused.
Sulking, Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from me, her mouth set, her brows knit. Despite the façade, I knew she wasn’t distraught.
“It’s nothing out of the ordinary, Charlotte. I’ve been into your world. I want you to be in mine for a day.”
Doubt produced an invisible heavy weight to press over my chest and block my airways until Charlotte placed her hand on my knee and squeezed gently.
“You like surprising me. Maybe I’d like surprising you.”
“Oh, I’m truly looking forward to that.” Winking, I gave her a sincere grin and received a timid roll of her eyes.
The drive to my office seemed shorter than I remembered. By the time I parked the car in the underground lot, Charlotte’s eyes were gleaming with excitement and anticipation. Surprising such a smart woman was a delicate matter, I thought absently as I helped her out of the car and wrapped my arm around her waist.
The building was relatively small, housing only CKM Engineering. We took the elevator and rode to the third floor in silence. The doors of the elevator dinged open, and Charlotte walked out with my hand steadily placed on her lower back.
As I guided her past the reception area and down an empty corridor that led to my office, I couldn’t help but think how different it felt to be with her here. While at Burton & Associates she was my handler and I a troublemaker, here neither of us had to hide or pretend. I was an engineer, she was a lawyer, and we were together. The thought put a stupid smile on my face.
“Welcome to my world, Charlotte Burton.”
I pulled her into my office and closed the door behind us. She walked inside hesitantly, drinking in every element around her. Not tolerating the distance between us, I followed and drew her to me, burying my nose in her throat while still allowing her to familiarize herself with the space where I spent most of my time
.
“This is...fabulous.” The shine in her eyes humbled me.
“I wouldn’t go to such lengths, but I am glad you approve.”
Her eyes sparkled as she explored my workplace. My hands fell from her waist at the same time she took a step forward. A surge of exhilaration inundated me, the same kind of euphoria I had felt when I opened the door of my apartment to find her on the other side for the first time.
Ever since Charlotte and I met, control had been ripped from me, but now as she advanced into my office, a modicum of that power seemed to come back.
To a man who was naturally in control, the delight of being on familiar territory while his female dived out of her comfort zone was an aphrodisiac that spurred my desire to frenzied heights.
“That is the drawing table,” I explained, my voice coming out gruffly.
Charlotte’s eyes darted to me, recognizing the passion behind my words, before she returned her attention to the scrolls of paper lying on the table with an adorable splash of red in her cheeks. I trailed after her with my hands locked behind my back and my eyes fixed on her. She was a vision I couldn’t get enough of.
“Did you draw this?”
Her fingers flew softly over provisional sketches that I had finished during the morning, and her eyes followed with awe the invisible traces left by her fingertips.
“Yes.”
I wanted to offer her the space to explore at her own pace. I truly did, but ultimately, I failed. When my chest touched her silhouette, part of the unpleasant sting created by distance thankfully vanished.
“These are parts of a concept motorcycle we are working on.”
I pointed to a few drawings, and she looked at them curiously. The honesty of her enthusiasm surprised and pleased me equally. Nobody had ever approved of, let alone showed interest in my work.
“So you do mix business with pleasure.” Charlotte smiled pensively, then continued her exploration.
My office was considerably smaller than hers and definitely messier, but the room welcomed me each time I crossed its threshold with a warmth that could only be derived from a broad sense of accomplishment.
Darkside Love Affair Page 24