She shook her head, trying to clean out her ears. Why couldn’t she hear anything he was saying? Bringing her fingers to her ears didn’t do much good either. It didn’t matter, really. She could see him. He was standing in front of the courthouse in a dark suit. Mr. TS was a lawyer. Her knees gave out, and she crumpled in the puddle of coffee on the carpet. She knew the face of the man standing next to Tyler. It was Guy Paulson. The man who had murdered Jeannie Rose.
Her head spun. Her mouth was dry, but the back of her throat burned with acid. Finally his voice broke through her haze, and she remembered hearing that professional timbre before. This was Lachlan, the attorney she’d talked to on the phone.
“Today the trial begins, and the world will see what I already know—that Guy Paulson is innocent of the crime of which he has been accused.”
Reporters started vying for his attention, shouting out questions, but he turned and ushered his client into the courtroom. She stared at the television long after the news anchors came back and blathered on about whatever else was going on in the city and the world. Tyler was defending a guilty man. It didn’t make any sense.
She’d built the case herself, piece by piece. He didn’t have a shot at winning, but maybe that was the point. Perhaps he didn’t want to win. Could Tyler really be a defense attorney? She understood his need to protect the innocent, to defend them from wrongful persecution because of his father. But working for a firm like Malcolm, Johnson, and Klein just didn’t fit with the man she thought she’d gotten to know.
Oh, her stupid rules. Why had she prevented him from telling her what he did for a living? After a while, Layla realized she was rocking and forced herself to stop. She blinked hard. Then she pulled herself to her feet, her pants soaked in cold coffee. She really needed to get out of this city, but Tyler was going to need someone to talk to about this case. It must be screwing with his head something fierce.
Defending a murderer would make Tyler feel guilty. She knew it. He had such a strong sense of right and wrong, but not in the way some people did. He’d never condemned her for being tricked by Jason like others had. Never thought less of her the way Brian had. She felt sick to her stomach.
What if Tyler was convinced Paulson was innocent and was determined to save him from his father’s fate? She had to figure out a way to help him.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Day two of the trial didn’t look like it would be any better than day one. Tyler tapped his pen against the legal pad once. Paulson looked down at the note and picked the pen from Tyler’s hand.
No, he wrote.
Damn. Paulson couldn’t remember ever having seen the silver piece either. Which meant he couldn’t help identify it. Tyler knew it was important to the case; he just didn’t know how to use it yet. He’d put in a call to the DA’s office about it and gotten the runaround. He would bring it to the judge’s attention if he needed to. He forced his attention back to the room.
It was already day two of the trial, and Paulson was scheduled to take the stand that afternoon. DA Connely stood, calling up the next witness. There weren’t too many. Tyler consulted his notes. The state’s forensic scientist would no doubt explain the height of the killer based on the angle and position of the stab wounds, just in time for the district attorney to mention Paulson’s height, perfectly in the two-inch range. Tyler was ready for this. He was prepared to argue on behalf of this man who’d been marginalized by a society that didn’t understand the way his brain worked and punished him for it.
He watched the jury eye the witness and his client as all this was explained. They ate it up. Most of them had convicted Paulson in their minds long before the trial started. He had quite a battle ahead of him.
He stood, unbuttoning his jacket, and moved toward the stand. “Do you know what percent of the population is between five-ten and six foot?” he asked the specialist.
“No, sir, I do not.”
“What would be your best estimated guess of the average height of US males ages twenty to thirty-nine?”
“Objection, Your Honor,” the DA said. “What qualifications does the witness have to be able to answer such a question?”
Tyler paused and waited for the judge’s response.
“Do you feel you’re qualified to answer that question, Dr. Wilks?” The judge spoke to the witness.
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Objection overruled.”
Tyler turned back to the witness.
“I believe the average height would be approximately five foot ten or eleven inches.”
He could practically hear the jury’s thoughts. He turned to them, then to the rest of the courtroom and back to the stand.
“How tall are you, doctor?”
“Five-eight.”
“So you could not have inflicted the wounds on Jeannie Rose?”
“No, sir.”
“I’m six foot. Would I have been the right height to do so?”
“Yes, sir.”
He looked at the jury again. “Would you agree, doctor, with the idea that out of the twenty men in this room today, approximately fourteen of us fall within the two-inch height range you yourself have said the perpetrator must be? Including myself, our honorable Judge Henders, and District Attorney Connely?” He moved to the side to allow Wilks to see the rest of the courtroom. He waited for the doctor to count, judge, and estimate the heights of the men sitting in the room.
Wilks blinked at the DA and nodded. “Yes, sir. I would agree with that.”
“Thank you. No further questions, Your Honor.”
He returned to his seat and wrote another note to Paulson. Stop smiling. The man quickly changed his expression. He didn’t realize that a smile would make him look guilty, like he was getting away with something—in this case, murder. Social nuances completely escaped him.
Tyler waited for the next witness to be called to the stand. Please, God, don’t let me screw this up.
* * * *
Layla picked up the phone and called the precinct. She’d spent yesterday agonizing over what to do about Tyler. She couldn’t just show up at his apartment, not after the way she’d left things with him. But something must have convinced him Paulson was innocent, because defending a guilty man just didn’t fit his personality. Of course, maybe Layla was way off base and she didn’t know him at all. Her gut told her she was right, though.
So as she waited for an officer to pick up, she toyed with the idea of calling Tyler’s office. She knew the number. She could leave a message and ask him to call her back. They couldn’t discuss the case, not without disclosing evidence and breaking confidentiality laws. Something about that picture she’d seen still nagged her, though. She wondered if maybe that had something to do with Tyler’s perception that Paulson hadn’t killed Jeannie.
She’d tried to call Brian three times to follow up about the picture, but he never answered or returned her calls. He could avoid her all he wanted to, as long as it didn’t interfere with her case. She worked a case from start to finish, never letting anything go until she was sure it was perfect. Until this case.
The phone rang forever before someone picked up.
“This is Attorney Morgan calling from DA Connely’s office. Could I speak with Detective Ross, please?” She had to make sure Brian hadn’t forgotten in the midst of reviewing everything and starting the trial. She knew firsthand how much preparation went into it. She waited on hold, pacing the hotel room.
“This is Detective Ross.”
“Hi, there. Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to make sure DA Connely had gotten everything from you about the Paulson case.”
“Yeah, I sent everything over to him last week.”
Shit. “And he hasn’t called since?”
“No, ma’am.”
Double shit. “Do you remember the case well?” He should. It’d only been off his desk a few months.
“Yes, I do. Could you tell me what you’re looking for? I thought the trial started
yesterday.”
“It did. That’s the problem.” She took a deep breath. Why had she let Brian talk her out of following through with this case? Because she’d wanted nothing more to do with him. The less time in his presence, the better. Now the whole case could fall apart because of it. “There was a photograph taken at the scene, after the body was moved. A small object pressed into the dirt beneath the body. It was never cataloged or photographed up close. I need to know why, and if you could remember what the object was, that would be very helpful to the district attorney.”
Telling him she needed the information wouldn’t help get her anywhere, but using the power of the DA’s office should get him to remember. It was a high-profile case, after all. Any mistakes the detective or his team had made would reflect very poorly on the precinct and the city as a whole—something the mayor would not accept.
“Let me pull my notes and see what I come up with. I’ll call you right back,” he said.
“Don’t bother. I’ll be on my way down soon. Should take me about forty minutes to get there. Think you’ll have something by then?”
“Yes, I will.” He was adamant.
“Great. I’ll see you shortly.” She hung up and got changed into something more professional and ran out the door. She could have ruined the case just because she wanted to run away from Brian. You idiot.
Two subways and thirty minutes later, she stood outside the brick police building. She forced herself to slow her steps as she walked in and calmly asked to be shown to Ross’s desk.
An older detective with gray at his temples looked up at her and smiled. “You must be Ms. Morgan.”
“Yes. What did you find?” No time for pleasantries. He seemed to notice and sat up straighter in his chair.
“I’m not sure why you don’t have the information, but there is a record of this item. It was photographed and taken into evidence. I remember it because I thought it was kind of funny. Here it is.” He handed her a close-up of the object, and she froze. “Most cuff links don’t have writing on them. I’m still not sure what this one is supposed to say.”
Her knees threatened to give out. She clutched the picture of the silver and white cuff link in her suddenly cold hands. This…this was the cuff link she’d stupidly given Brian two years ago. One from the set she hadn’t seen him wear since she’d been back in the city.
“Here’s the evidence number. Everything was sent in the box over to your office…” His voice trailed off. She wasn’t sure if he stopped speaking or if she stopped listening.
“Objection. It’s supposed to say objection.”
* * * *
Tyler readied himself to question Paulson. This could be the best way to win the case. He had to get the jury to see the real Guy Paulson. He rose as the judge entered the courtroom after the lunch recess.
“Be seated.”
Tyler nodded at Paulson and stood.
“The defense calls Guy Paulson to the stand.”
The bailiff led the man to the stand, and Tyler began questioning him.
“Mr. Paulson, could you please tell the jury what you were doing in Central Park on the night of March third?”
“I…I was living. In my t-tent.” Tyler watched as Paulson’s hands shook, as his stutter became more pronounced.
“Had you ever seen Jeannie Rose before the morning you stepped out of your tent and fell on her body?”
“N-no.” Paulson shook his head, again and again. He was getting agitated already. “Y-yes,” he stammered.
Shit.
“Where did you see her before, Mr. Paulson?”
“T-TV. W-with her f-family.”
Paulson shifted on the stand, unable to sit still, and then he started to cry. Damn.
“Could you tell us why you’re crying?”
“S-so sad. The b-body. Sh-she…” He stopped, a sob shaking his shoulders.
Tyler knew the man could handle this, but Paulson had to calm down.
Tyler turned to the judge. “Permission for a recess to help my client gather his composure.”
The judge nodded. “Fifteen minutes.” He slammed the gavel down. Tyler and the bailiff helped Paulson off the stand as the courtroom started with a soft buzz of conversation and movement.
He sat Paulson in the chair and looked in his eyes. “You don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to.”
Paulson shook his head. “I w-want to.”
“Okay. Okay, that’s good. Take a few minutes to relax. I’ll get you some water.”
Tyler turned to leave, and DA Connely smiled at him. The snake. The man had an arrogance about him, a slimy quality even worse than Williams. Tyler gave Paulson another moment to calm down, then handed him a tissue. He excused himself to go get fresh water, needing a few seconds to feel centered again.
Tyler found the water cooler and poured a glass for Paulson, praying the jury would be able to see past the prejudices against him to the truth the way no one had managed to do for Tyler’s father. Water in hand, he walked back to the courtroom, refusing to let his heavy shoulders slump even the slightest. He would make at least something in this man’s life better. After the world had kicked Paulson in the face, Tyler could hopefully at least spare the man’s life.
* * * *
Layla’s stomach churned.
“Pick up.”
Ross looked at her. She’d told him everything—well, enough that he knew they may have arrested the wrong man. Enough that he was escorting her, lights and sirens blaring, to the steps of the courthouse. If she was wrong about that cuff link—and God, she hoped she was—she’d look like a fool barging in there, a detective on her heels.
But she wasn’t wrong.
“Ms. Morgan, if you call to alert him, he might flee.”
He thought she was calling Brian. Ha, fat chance. Brian would know as soon as she opened her mouth that she was on to him.
“I’m calling ahead to the courthouse to make sure he stays where he is, but the mayor isn’t answering his phone.”
Ross didn’t ask why the hell she had the mayor’s personal cell number. He just continued to drive. The sirens screamed in her ears as she dialed Bob again.
She’d made the techs run a check on Brian’s cell phone while she and the detective drove through downtown Manhattan traffic. The confirmation had churned her gut. Brian had been in Central Park at the time of the murder. The knowledge made bile rise in the back of her throat. How could she have liked him? Thought she could sleep with him? And what had Jeannie Rose done that had made Brian desperate enough to kill her?
Bob’s voice mail picked up, and she disconnected.
Brian had known Jeannie for years. God, had he tried to come on to her like he’d done to Layla? He’d seemed so pissed when Layla had rejected him. What if he’d turned that anger on Jeannie Rose and framed Paulson for the murder? That bastard.
Even knowing what she had to do, that she had no choice, the idea of voluntarily going back into a courtroom, of coming face-to-face again with Tyler and having all those eyes on her, including the judge’s… She shuddered and dialed the main courthouse line. She didn’t wait for a greeting.
“This is Layla Morgan. I need to speak with DA Connely, please.” She just needed to make sure he was in that courtroom and not going anywhere soon.
“I’m sorry. He’s in the middle of a case right now. They just had a recess, but the doors are closing,” the nasally voice on the other end said.
Perfect. He wouldn’t be able to leave during the proceedings. “What courtroom are they in, please?”
“Three. Would you like me to bring in a message for him?”
“No, thank you.”
She closed her phone. She was going to have to burst into the courtroom and demand to speak to the DA and the judge. And the defense attorney. She wasn’t ready to face Tyler again. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready to face him. Her fingers shook from just thinking about going into a judge’s domain. Her first experience
had been horrific, and enough to tell her she didn’t belong in a courtroom. She belonged with the law books and the notes and the evidence. Behind the scenes.
They stopped outside, and she didn’t wait for Ross but flung the door open and climbed the stairs. She had to move fast before her brain caught up with her body and she was paralyzed at the thought of setting foot in the courtroom. She ran into the building and froze anyway.
Mr. Times Square walked by her and into room three, closing the door behind him. Oh, God. She’d known he was going to be there. She’d prepared herself to help him. But seeing him there, knowing the pain and anger he would experience after seeing she’d lied to him… She couldn’t face all that. She couldn’t go in there.
Ross caught up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Where’s three?”
She pointed to the door she couldn’t walk through. Tyler would know she’d been lying. He’d be there to see her humiliation when she confronted the DA about a piece of jewelry she’d bought him being at the crime scene. The judge and Brian would both laugh in her face and tell her she had no business pretending to be a lawyer. But she couldn’t let an innocent man go to jail. She had to help Tyler. So she was going to walk into that courtroom and demand to be heard in a way she’d never done before. For Paulson, for Tyler, and for Jeannie Rose. She would not be a coward.
“How do you want to do this? Can we just open the door and sneak in?”
She shook her head. No, that would be too easy. The mayor had asked the judge to close the proceedings to the public and the media out of respect for his family and for fear of his safety. There would be bailiffs right at the door, and anyone who wanted to get in would have to prove they had a right to be there. Even then, in the middle of the trial, she didn’t know if they’d let her in.
She forced one foot forward, then the other. If she’d ever had any hope of calling Tyler up and telling him she was sorry she’d left in such a mess and maybe they could work on things after all, she was going to kill it right now. She pushed the door open.
Chapter Thirty-Three
An Affair Across Times Square Page 24