by Freya Barker
This morning I found a note on the kitchen island from him. He’d already gone out to pick up the suit he’d forgotten at his place for court tomorrow. I’d expected him back a while ago but I guess he got hung up.
“That was Detective Melville,” I volunteer, as I fold the list I printed off this morning and tuck it in my purse. “I’m supposed to meet him at the police station.”
“Good. I’ll be right down, I’m just going to hang this up.”
He turns on his heel and I hear his heavy footfalls go up the stairs. It’s strange, suddenly sharing my space with someone. I didn’t object when he showed up with his stuff yesterday, mostly because what happened Friday night shook me to the core. On a rational level, I realize there’s always a chance as a criminal lawyer you piss someone off, but it had always been more of an abstract concept. There was nothing abstract about what happened Friday, and having Cal stay here with me makes me feel safer.
By the time his footsteps come back down the stairs, I’m waiting by the front door. He walks straight up to me and takes my face in his hands.
“Forgot something,” he mumbles, right before he covers my mouth with his, kissing me sweetly. “Morning.”
“Morning to you.” I smile up at him, running my fingers along the short hairs of his trimmed beard. “You don’t have to come with me, you know.”
He cracks a grin. “No? How do you propose to get there with your car in the shop?”
Shit. I’d forgotten my car was towed, making me effectively dependent on Cal and his wheels.
“Forgot.”
“I figured.”
He slides a hand down my arm and slips his fingers between mine before pulling the door open.
“Did they say when my car would be ready?” I ask when we get on the road.
“He said he’d be able to drop it off when it’s done, probably Tuesday afternoon. Which reminds me, your insurance company will want a copy of the police report, both for the office and your car.”
“Right.” I’ll have to see whether it’s worth paying the deductible on my car insurance, or just pay for new tires out of pocket.
“By the way, I was also gonna talk to you about the contractor. As soon as I hear back from the adjuster, he’ll be able to get construction started within a day or two. Ballpark, he expects it to take around a month.”
A heavy sigh escapes me and Cal immediately glances over.
“It’s fine,” I quickly assure him. “It just means I’m back to meeting clients in public places. I don’t want to invite them into my house. It’s what I used to do before I started renting from you.”
“Probably smart.”
“I should also give Jackson a call. Get him up-to-date.”
My brother is the protective kind, and he wouldn’t be too pleased if he found out about what happened in some roundabout way.
“Talked to him this morning.”
I snap my head around, glaring at him.
“I would’ve liked to have told him myself.”
“Didn’t call him, Slick, he called me. It was about something unrelated, but he asked how things were with you and I wasn’t gonna lie.”
As much as I wanted to talk to him myself, I appreciate Cal has his own relationship with Jackson. One that apparently requires honesty. Another mark on the plus side. Apparently my brother trusts him or he would’ve been on the phone with me right after.
“Do I have to worry he’s gonna show up on my doorstep heavily armed?”
It suddenly occurs to me that’s a distinct possibility. Cal’s easy chuckle fills the cab of the truck.
“I don’t think so, but he did demand daily briefings.”
I roll my eyes. He would too.
Cal
Detective Melville shows us into an empty office.
“Have a seat.”
I wait for Reagan to sit before I follow suit. The detective sits across from us and gets straight to the point.
“You have a list for me?”
Reagan digs in her purse and hands over a folded sheet of paper. Melville takes a perfunctory first glance before I see his eyebrows pull together sharply. He looks up at Reagan and then back down on the page.
“You have an officer of the Commonwealth’s Attorney’s Office on here.”
“That’s correct,” she says, straightening her spine. “And believe me, I’ve thought hard about adding it.”
“What on earth would make you think Neil Tory should be on this list?”
“For starters, he’s my ex-husband and we didn’t part in the best of ways. I have reason to believe—and he’s given me every indication—he intends to make my life difficult.”
“What makes you say that?” he asks, now appropriately interested.
“Until our divorce I had a very successful career with a large firm in Norfolk, while Neil worked for his father in the Commonwealth’s Attorney’s Office in Richmond. Then in a span of months, I went from one of the firm’s top trial lawyers to sitting second chair, and finally I was treated like no more than a legal clerk. My ex-husband and his father are golfing buddies with my firm’s partners.”
She’d mentioned last night their divorce had not exactly been amicable but I didn’t realize the extent of it until now.
“Are you implying—”
Reagan holds up her hand to cut the detective off.
“That’s not all. Almost seven months ago I left the firm and struck out on my own here in Suffolk, figuring it was the only way to get a fresh start. Next thing I know, Neil transfers to the Suffolk Commonwealth’s Attorney’s Office and takes a seat at the prosecutor’s table in my first major trial here.
“He won that first one, but a few weeks ago we faced off in the courtroom again, and this time the jury acquitted my client. Needless to say that didn’t go over well.”
“Do you have reason to suspect he would resort to something like arson?”
“Before yesterday I would’ve said no, but then I discovered he’s the prosecuting attorney on the bullshit case against Cal.”
Finally Melville’s eyes, which had been glued to Reagan, come to me.
“Yes, I understand Mr. McGregor is in some hot water.”
I try not to react and leave the talking to Reagan; she’s much better at it than I am. I trust her blindly. Still, I hope she’s cautious with what she shares with Melville because for all we know he’s close with Walker.
“That will all be sorted by tomorrow’s pretrial hearing. In fact,” she adds with a cool smile, “it might be informative for you to drop by.”
“Is that so? If there’s time I may just do that.” He glances back down at the list when suddenly his eyebrows shoot up. “I see you have a Sean Davies listed. Who is he?”
The question is asked casually but I sense the tension behind his words. Apparently Reagan does too as she seems to weigh her words carefully.
“Mr. Davies is a client. In fact, I represented Mr. Davies in the trial I just mentioned. He was acquitted.”
Melville rests his elbows on the table and folds his hands, leaning slightly forward.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand; if you managed to get Mr. Davies off, why add him to the list? It doesn’t make sense. He should be thrilled with you.”
The challenge seems to make Reagan uneasy, and I lightly press my knee against hers in a subtle expression of support.
“It was actually my assistant who insisted his name be added. Mr. Davies expressed interest…in me,” she adds almost shyly. “In an attempt to spare his feelings, I’d politely informed him it would be unethical for me to go on a date with a client. I should’ve been clearer, because he showed up with flowers and the wrong idea the day after the verdict. It was an uncomfortable situation.”
“He hasn’t been in touch since? You haven’t seen or heard from him?”
“No.”
Suddenly Melville turns to me. “How about you? Do you know Mr. Davies?”
A restless feeling comes
over me and I struggle not to squirm under the man’s scrutiny.
“I don’t. I’ve never seen the man, although I did see the flowers in Reagan’s office, as well as his signature on the note.”
“Note?”
“Hope we see each other again soon. Yours, Sean,” Reagan quotes.
The detective leans back, tilting his chair and placing both hands on his head.
“Well, this is an interesting development,” he mumbles, his eyes on the ceiling.
Reagan glances over at me with a questioning look. I shrug; I have no clue what’s going on.
“Detective?” she finally prods. “I’m afraid I’m at a bit of a loss here?”
“Right,” he says, straightening in his seat. “Remember I mentioned I had a new case pop up in the early hours of the morning? A man on his way to his early shift backed out of his garage, into the alleyway, behind his house and almost ran over the body of a man. We don’t have confirmation yet—unfortunately his face was beyond recognition—but according to the driver’s license in the man’s wallet, he was a neighbor.”
Under the table I grab Reagan’s hand.
“The name on the license was Sean Davies.”
“Oh my God…” She covers her mouth with her free hand.
“I’m waiting for a warrant so I can search the house. We’ll need something to confirm the body’s identity. Do you know of any family members? Spouse? Children?”
Reagan shakes her head. “From what I know he was married but divorced many years ago. He told me he had no children. That’s all I know.”
She turns to look at me.
“I feel so guilty now for even considering he might’ve—”
“Ms. Cole,” Melville interrupts, drawing her attention. “I wouldn’t feel too guilty if I were you. We found a switchblade in his pocket and the smell of gasoline still lingering to his clothes.”
Chapter Thirteen
Reagan
“Relax, Slick. You’ve got this.”
Cal’s hand covers my wringing ones.
The truth is, I am nervous, or maybe I should say unnerved. Yesterday’s visit to the police station threw me off. In my line of work, I’m not a stranger to violent crime, but the idea Sean Davies—a man I’d seen and talked to not that long ago—was brutally beaten and killed is chilling. According to Melville, the coroner suspected he had been killed between twenty-four and thirty-two hours prior to his body being discovered. All that time his body was lying in the alley.
I was also shaken to find out it looks like Sean was the one to set fire to my office and vandalize my car. I can’t wrap my head around that. One day you think you have all the answers, only to discover you never really knew anything at all. Doubt followed closely after.
Last night I tried to put all that out of my head and focus on the pretrial hearing today, but even curled up in bed with Cal holding me, I was questioning myself.
“I know. It’s just, there’s so much going on, it’s rattled me. I’ll be fine though,” I quickly add, realizing I probably shouldn’t be worrying my client. He’s also someone I’ve come to care about more than I should, which is why I need to be on the ball. I know for a fact, Neil will not be pulling any punches.
When we drive up to the courthouse parking lot, I carefully remove Cal’s hand from my lap. “I should’ve called a cab,” I point out. “It’s probably not smart to arrive in one vehicle.”
“You’re overthinking. The likelihood of anyone thinking twice about a lawyer and her client arriving in the same vehicle is slim to none,” he responds calmly.
He’s right; I’m being paranoid.
I calm myself while he looks for a parking spot, but when we walk into the building and I catch Neil watching me through slitted eyes by the door of the courtroom, my nerves are back.
During a pretrial the onus is on the prosecution to present evidence to convince the judge there is sufficient merit to their case. It’s also an opportunity to present pretrial motions, like the ones I have in front of me.
I’m not surprised when Neil focuses in on the security tape, making a big production of showing it on the large screen TV rolled into the courtroom. I know Judge Raymond and am familiar with the fact he does not take kindly to dramatics in his courtroom, but Neil may not be aware. He’s big on theatrics, hence the oversized screen and emotional narration of Krista Hardee’s statement of the events simultaneous to the video playing.
“Mr. Tory,” Judge Raymond interrupts him. “This isn’t an audition for the school play. Can we dispense with the melodrama? I can see the screen quite well and have a copy of Ms. Hardee’s statement in front of me. I assure you I’m able to put the two together.”
Neil darts a quick glance in my direction, and I have a hard time not smirking. Apparently Cal doesn’t feel the need for any such restraint since he loudly snorts his amusement, which earns him a sharp look from the judge.
Neil takes his seat, but the moment the tape comes to an end he jumps to his feet.
“As you can see quite clearly, Your Honor, not only did the defendant drag the victim across eight states, he ruthlessly assaulted her in full view of security cameras.” He grabs a folder from his desk and hands it to the bailiff. “These pictures taken of the defendant days after the incident illustrate the desperation with which the victim tried to fight off her violent attacker.”
Judge Raymond proceeds to flip through the file.
“Three pictures? These are all you have in evidence?” he asks, his eyebrow raised.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Tory, far be it from me to tell you your job, but if you wish to convince me a violent attack took place at the hands of the defendant, I would expect to see more than what—given the lack of additional evidence—appears to be violence done to him.”
“But, Your Honor, the video clearly—”
Judge Raymond holds up his hand to shut Neil up.
“Other than the video, is there any tangible evidence you can present that illustrates a violent attack on Ms. Hardee? Any images of bruises she may have sustained, a rape kit that might have been taken. Anything at all?”
“Your Honor, Ms. Hardee was distraught—”
“Simple yes or no answer will do, Mr. Tory; is there any evidence, other than this video, to support Ms. Hardee’s complaint.”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Very well. Ms. Cole?”
To say the judge looks less than impressed with the case would be an understatement. I’m ready to put the nail in the coffin my ex manufactured himself.
“Yes, Your Honor. I have a motion to suppress the video evidence the prosecution presented.”
“On what grounds, Ms. Cole?”
I hand the bailiff a copy of the motion and a copy of the USB-key with my recording.
“On the grounds that the evidence is incomplete. As you can see from the images attached to the motion, the camera feed the prosecution had you review is only one of several cameras focused on that particular area of the parking lot. Copies of those additional camera feeds might have made it clear that Ms. Hardee was not fighting off Mr. McGregor, but rather the other way around. Also attached are copies of my multiple requests to Detective Walker, as well as the prosecutor’s office, for release of those additional video feeds, without success. On the USB-key you will find confirmation by a security guard at the jail there are a total of three cameras focused on the area where Mr. McGregor’s vehicle was parked that night.”
From the corner of my eye I can see Neil jump to his feet, but Judge Raymond is faster.
“Not a word, Mr. Tory.” Then he turns to me. “Is that all?”
“No, Your Honor, I also have a motion to dismiss.”
“Let’s see it.” I hand the folder and my second USB-key over to the bailiff who delivers it to the judge. “Another one of these?” He holds up the key.
“Yes, Your Honor. That is a recording of Oliver Hardee admitting his daughter is romantically involved wit
h Detective Walker.”
“Objection, Your Honor!” Neil is on his feet, wildly gesturing. “Defense is looking to…to…”
“Mr. Tory, just a reminder this is merely a preliminary hearing, not a trial. I’ll need some time to review and we’ll reconvene tomorrow morning at nine thirty. Court’s recessed.”
The moment Judge Raymond’s gavel comes down and he disappears into his chambers, Neil grabs his files, tucks them under his arm, and storms out of the courtroom.
I sink down in my chair and throw Cal a big smile.
Cal
“Fuck, but you’re magnificent.”
She looks a little shell-shocked when I release her mouth, but when I move in to kiss her again, she holds me off with a hand against my chest.
“Sally’s here,” she says, turning to look at her house where we just pulled up.
“Pity.” I grin at her and take the keys from the engine. “Celebrations will have to wait ’til later then.”
“I make it a rule not to celebrate before the verdict is in. It brings bad karma.”
She throws a saucy grin over her shoulder as she jumps out of the truck. I follow suit and catch up with her at the steps up to the porch, wrapping an arm around her waist as I lean in close.
“We won’t call it a celebration then,” I mumble against the shell of her ear, “but it will involve both of us naked.”
“Mmm, we’ll see,” she teases, pressing her ass into my groin.
I’m about to feel her up on her porch when the door swings open wide.
“You’re back already?” Sally stands in the doorway, grinning big. “Is that good news?”
Reluctantly I let go of Reagan and she walks inside as she gets her assistant up to speed. I stay on the porch, pulling out my phone while I adjust myself. Pooja picks up on the second ring.
“How did it go?”
“We’ll know tomorrow morning. Court’s been recessed until then.” I turn my back to the house and take in the view from the porch. “Anything from Dean?”