“Fair enough. We’ll reconvene on Monday. I trust that amount of time will be more than sufficient.” Judge Flannigan looked from Bryan to Martin and returned to rest his focus on Bryan.
Bryan conceded with a nod. Returning to his seat, he couldn’t even find relief in knowing his client took the news of this surprise witness with ease. His focus steadied on how to shift his defense strategy. She could be what sealed the case, what would slam the prison doors shut. She could ultimately cost him—his life. The thought made him cold.
Dimitre leaned over. “Enjoy your mid-afternoon cocktail. She’s my ex-lover.” A wide smile spread across his face.
With those words being spoken and the flash in his eye, Bryan surmised Stella Robins would only live as long as her testimony—if she survived long enough to give it.
He wondered what would make a woman, who no doubt knew what Dimitre was capable of, willing to risk her life by pointing her manicured finger at him. He didn’t find any comfort in knowing their connection, but he feigned a smile, trying to exude confidence. Not that he was a religious man, but he prayed Dimitre didn’t see through it.
Judge Flannigan said, “This court is adjourned until Monday at nine AM. Council, we will meet for fifteen minutes in my chambers.”
Most had left the room, but Dimitre stood there, his disappointment obvious. “And I was really looking forward to hearing from that little bitch today.”
Bryan’s uneasiness over this development morphed into aggravation toward his client. Surely, Dimitre would have noticed an ex-girlfriend watching him go into the apartment. Yet the man had mentioned nothing of it. Bryan shuffled files into his briefcase.
“Listen, I’m going to need you to stick around until I’m finished in the chambers. Then I’ll take you out for a few drinks, and you can fill me in on anything I need to know.”
“Really not much more to say.” Dimitre failed to hide the haughty sarcasm behind his words.
“SHE SAW YOU, Dimitre,” Bryan said with a mouthful of onion rings. “She saw you go into Leroy’s apartment around the time of death.”
“You sweat da small stuff.” His Russian accent was thick. “That woman has had it in for me since the day I started screwing Maxine.”
Dimitre sank back into his side of the booth, relaxed, arrogant, and cocky. He didn’t think anything could touch him. He stretched his left arm out on the back of the bench.
He slugged back a double shot of vodka and slammed the glass onto the table.
“You think a woman is going to be what does me in?”
Bryan was relieved that Dimitre couldn’t read minds because then he’d know his doubts. A woman, who could place him in the apartment at the time of the murder, could do him in. His thoughts wandered back to the meeting in the judge’s chambers where he was further enlightened as to the relevance of Stella Robins’s testimony.
She was an eyewitness, or as close to one as possible, without being in the room at the time of the shooting. She was waiting at a bus stop across the street and claims to have seen Dimitre go into Leroy’s apartment.
“SHE SAID HE LOOKED LIKE a train on tracks, or a man on a mission.” Martin reiterated his witness’s words. “She was terrified of him and felt he was going to do something horrible.”
Bryan said, “And even though she had this feeling, she was impelled to follow a strange man into an apartment building?” He tested just how much Martin knew about her. Dimitre’s statement in the courtroom was fresh in his mind: she’s my ex-lover.
BRYAN WAS STARTLED BACK TO the present with the clanging of dropped plates and cutlery. A waitress had tried to carry too much at once and had failed.
“Remember the importance of winning.” Dimitre let his words sink in the air. They were heavy and enclosed the omnipresent threat that hung over the trial.
“I’ll always have your back.” Bryan stuck the last few rings in his mouth. “Have faith in me. I know I can handle this one hands down.”
He would work a woman like Stella Robins, a jilted lover left so the man could bed another, like clay in his hands. His thoughts were interrupted by his cell phone. He glanced at the caller’s identity and placed it back on his belt clip without answering.
“I’ve really got to get going. See you Monday and dress to impress.” Bryan shot him a grin while tossing a fifty-dollar bill on the table. “That ought to cover it and buy another couple rounds for yourself.”
-
Chapter 2
IT WAS EIGHT THIRTY IN the morning, and the glass buildings of downtown were already magnifying the brightness of the sun. The weathermen were calling for a record high, the warmest spring day in ten years.
The office building Jessica worked at was right in the heart of the city’s downtown. She had started with Get Noticed Media four years ago. Her strong dedication and education quickly saw her promoted to account manager. With the advancement, she received a windowed office and two assistants. At twenty-six, she knew she was fortunate.
Get Noticed Media’s portfolio encompassed a wide segment of North American industries, from athletic wear to popular beverages and bubble gum. Their marketing genius wasn’t limited to one sector, but they employed all viable means of advertising which included billboards, buses, radio, and television commercials. Jessica’s team could even be credited for the vision behind a few thirty-second spots that were broadcasted during the largest televised sporting event of the year.
She stopped typing on her laptop, reached for her coffee, and swiveled to look out the wall of windows to the streets below.
She inhaled the aroma of her coffee and blew to cool it. She let the caffeine awaken her senses and was thankful to be on the tenth floor and not part of the mass outside.
People fought their way through the crowds to get where they needed to be. Cars were lined up bumper to bumper in front of the building and down the side streets. Due to the weather projection, more were being pulled out for pleasure and mingled with the regulars who were in a hurry to transact sales and bring in money.
Her thoughts dwelled on the business people, the corporate suits, as she referred to them. Most of them stepped over each other, like rats in a sewer, just to get ahead. She had determined long ago never to let herself be pressed into that mold. She would never let the coldness of the city harden her. She had respect for others, and that would never change.
Unlike the practices of other managers, her assistants were treated with a high regard for their individual and team accomplishments. They were encouraged to speak their minds and offer their opinions. They were invaluable to her continued success.
A soft knock on her office door interrupted her thoughts.
“Come in.” She turned around and placed her coffee on the desk.
Nella walked in with her own morning motivation, a decaffeinated tea.
“Hey.” Jessica smiled.
Nella was one of her assistants and a good friend. She was a beautiful and bright African-American. Her only true weakness, besides a smooth talking man, was fashion. Today, she showcased a trimming, just-above-the-knee black skirt complimented by a creamy silk blouse with long belled cuffs. A simple string of pearls accented her slender neck, and a matching set of earrings adorned her earlobes. Her long black hair was parted in the middle and sleeked back into a tight ponytail.
Jessica noticed the black high heels she wore. They must have been new. Included with Nella’s weakness for fashion was footwear. The woman had such a fascination with shoes some would consider it an obsession.
“Hey, girl, show it to me.” Nella smiled and moved forward to see Jessica’s ring finger. She pulled back when she noticed it was bare and disappointment swept over her face. “Oh, I’m sorry, hon.”
“It’s okay. He will when he’s ready.” Jessica placed her arms on the desk, bent at the elbows, and contemplatively lifted her hand to her chin
.
“When he’s ready? Child, he’s had months to git ready.” She braced her left hand on her hip.
Jessica couldn’t hold back her laughter. With Nella being such a naturally excitable person, the fact she didn’t drink caffeine proved to be a good thing. Now, if only a strong enough force existed to keep her from chocolate.
“What? You’re not upset? Why I oughta talk to that man and give him a piece of my mind.” Nella dropped into one of the chairs opposite Jessica’s desk and crossed her legs.
“It’s okay. Really.” Bryan instantly flashed through her mind. She smiled in her thoughts, distancing herself from the present. “He’ll ask me, but he’ll want everything to be perfect.”
“And what could be more perfect then the man cooking you dinner?” Nella bobbed her eyebrows. “I can’t even imagine Bob cooking for me.”
Bob was a big guy, built like a tank, not overweight but solid. His arms were riddled with tattoos, and he was a car mechanic. It was a true case of opposites attract. They had been seeing each other for a couple of weeks.
A mental picture formed and caused Jessica to chuckle. “Yeah, that would be quite something. And if he did cook, would you eat it? That’s the question.”
“Quite unlikely, and if he insisted I’d make him take the first bite just to see if he survived it.” Nella switched her mental gears to business. “Well, are you ready for today—a new company and a new opportunity.”
With those words leaving Nella’s mouth, it was like a switch had been flipped and the office became a blur of activity. Phones rang, fax machines beeped, and people began clicking away on their keyboards. Every day at nine it was the same thing.
Dominic barged in sporting a black, narrow pin-striped suit, orange shirt, and black tie. He was her other assistant. He was Italian, bold, and outgoing.
“So ladies, hope you’re ready to go. This could be just the beginning with these guys,” he said.
The presentation was to commence at nine thirty, leaving them another thirty minutes. As Dominic stated, it could be just the beginning with Knockturnl, but it would be if Jessica had a say.
Knockturnl was a newly founded beverage company whose main focus was their new energy drink T-Bolt. Derived from natural products, its main ingredient being ginseng, it didn’t carry a large label warning of numerous health dangers. It promised to boost physical energy and endurance without the heart palpitations or the jitters. It even claimed to increase mental capacity, alleviate stress, and help fight against the effects of aging. It seemed like a surefire product guaranteed of success and popularity.
Jessica would ensure T-Bolt hit the market in a fresh, young, and invigorating way. Her ultimate goal was to make this company and its product household words.
“You have the meeting room set up?” Jessica addressed this to Dominic.
“Yes. Two full water pitchers, glasses are on the table, and the proposals are in a neat stack at the end—one for each person. Six of us in there, right?” Her mouth opened to speak, but before she could talk, he said, “No, I know, eight.” He flashed those dimples.
Jessica smiled and sighed with relief. Part of her wanted to hurt him, but she fought the urge. “Yes, eight.” She shot him a dirty look while conducting a head count in her mind. It would be herself, Nella, Dominic, Henry her boss, his one assistant Lily, and the three representatives from Knockturnl.
Dominic sat in the chair beside Nella, and both women shared glances and were silent.
Nella exhaled in exasperation. “You’re not even going to ask the girl how her weekend went?”
Jessica raised her right hand and shook it. “It’s fine.”
Dominic, although a sweet person, was a typical male. His interest wasn’t on engagements and the detailed personal activities and agendas of his coworkers or friends. Most times he needed prodding, but what more could be expected from a man whose longest relationship consisted of three dates?
Dominic made a sad face for Jessica’s sake. “He didn’t propose, did he?”
“No, but as I keep telling, Nella, it’s fine. He will. I have faith in that.” Jessica took a sip of her coffee. “But enough about me, let’s get to that boardroom. We have to sell this baby.”
THE BOARDROOM HAD A WALL of glass to the hallway with privacy tint. The outside wall was floor-to-ceiling windows, which helped to impress clients with the beautiful view of the city. A cherry-finished conference table was centered in the room with twelve leather desk chairs around it, five up both sides and one on each end.
Jessica went over everything in her mind, visually checking that all was in order. She worked on bolstering her confidence. They were going to nail this.
Then Jessica caught a glimpse of him. He followed Nella into the boardroom. He must have been Mason, the owner of Knockturnl. His demeanor conveyed self-assurance, but not arrogance.
There were three of them, two men and one woman, but he struck her as a hit to the head. He captivated her attention. She had to shake her feelings and get her composure together. She took a step forward to meet them.
“Mason Freeman, this is Jessica Pratt,” Nella began the introductions. The man held out his hand to shake Jessica’s, and their eyes connected.
It was as if the rest of the people in the room disappeared.
Her chest gnawed at her. She was committed to Bryan, but her instinctual emotions were pulling her to this man. The attraction was irrefutable.
Mason had an aura about him, a pleasurable charm. The outline of his jaw was strong and masculine, but it was his eyes that pulled her in. Those blue eyes were hungry.
She cleared her throat. “How nice to finally meet you in person.”
They had communicated over the phone and by e-mail many times leading up to this meeting. If only possible, maybe it would have been best to leave it that way.
“It’s definitely my pleasure, Miss Pratt. Or is it, Mrs. Pratt?”
Jessica found herself hesitating. This man was interested in her.
“That would be Miss.” She grinned and shyly glanced away.
MASON STRUGGLED TO LISTEN TO her presentation, but his focus was on her mouth, not her words, and her eyes were the most beautiful shade of green, full of intensity and passion. He guessed her to be a wild lover, carefree and uninhibited. Her blonde hair fell in soft, wavy curls over her shoulders. She was slender and had small facial features, with a faint dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose. And her smile—it possessed such warmth and allure. He needed to find out more about this lady. This magnetism could not be ignored. He always got what he wanted. Now he desired Jessica.
-
Chapter 3
“ALL RISE. The case of the State versus Dimitre Petrov will now come to order. The Honorable Judge Myles Flannigan presiding.” The bailiff stepped off to the side.
Everyone rose, and the judge entered the courtroom. Once seated, he banged his gavel and those in the courtroom took their seats.
“Prosecution, call your witness.”
Martin rose. “Prosecution would like to call Stella Robins to the stand.”
Robins wore a tight, low-cut dress, which revealed a lot of cleavage. She appeared to be a firecracker with long red hair, bright red lipstick, and polished nails to match. Scars of her rough life were embedded in her face with crease lines around her eyes and mouth.
Martin gave the date of Leroy Adams’s murder and said, “Ms. Robins, please lead us through the events of that day.”
“I was waiting at a bus stop on the corner of Talbot and Adelaide.”
If she suffered fear of Dimitre, Bryan didn’t see it. Her body language pressed forward, implying an eagerness to pin Dimitre.
“So that is right across from Leroy Adams’s apartment, correct?” Martin shifted his weight from one leg to the other.
“Yes.” She also nodded.
<
br /> “Is it true that while you were waiting, the defendant walked by?” Martin gestured toward Dimitre.
“Yes, it is. He looked intent and on a mission. He terrified me.”
Bryan could have sworn she glanced at Dimitre for a second. It seemed responsible for him shifting his position.
Martin built on the base of her answer, not the elaboration. “What happened next, Ms. Robins?”
She twisted a strand of her long hair around her right index finger. “I followed him into Leroy’s apartment building.”
The courtroom fell silent.
Martin let it sit quiet for a few seconds to impress her words into the minds of the jury.
“Once inside the building, where did Mr. Petrov go?”
“I followed him until he went into Leroy’s apartment.” She defiantly glared at Dimitre this time, challenging him. Her long eyelashes, caked with mascara, blinked slowly and deliberately.
“Did you wait in the hall until he left?”
“Yes, I did. About ten minutes passed.” Robins sucked on her bottom lip and formed a small pout.
“Anyone else leave the apartment?”
“Not that I saw.” Her eyes glanced down, but she quickly regained her poise.
“Thank you, Ms. Robins.” Martin returned to his chair.
Bryan witnessed contentment in Martin’s demeanor. Robins had helped to solidify the prosecution’s case. Now, he would maneuver things to discredit it.
Bryan approached Robins while sustaining eye contact with her. “So you followed Dimitre even though you were terrified of him?” When she didn’t respond immediately, he partially repeated himself. “You were terrified of Mr. Petrov, a man who you saw posed a threat, yet you followed him into a building?” Bryan worked his craft. He would extract truths from the mouth of the witness, even if partial enlightenments, to preserve the innocence of his client. He would work the case from any angle necessary to avoid complications in his own life. He continued, “A man, you never met—or is it true, Ms. Robins, that you know Mr. Petrov?”
Life Sentence Page 2