Peccatum in Carne: Sins of the Flesh (The Three Sins of Mallory Moore Book 1)

by Coco Mingolelli

  It was better to explain candidly and make small of those years, the woman's bleak and despairing time that the defense might flout around as evidence of Mallory Moore's character, or lack thereof.

  While it was true that Emily Baxter did not particularly like Miss Moore, it had been her obstructive personality and barbed wit during preparations that she didn't enjoy. It made readying for the trial all that more arduous and unpleasant.

  She hadn't seen it then, that the woman's snide remarks and boorish glares were a protective facade. Emily had thought, as most of Middlesbrough did, that Miss Moore was simply the most frighteningly strict teacher one could imagine. It had been one of the reasons the town was so very surprised to learn that she'd taken up with a student, let alone the daughter of the man who had supposedly murdered her family, and worse. If there ever was a trope for the cruel school mistress brought to life in a person, it was Miss Moore.

  And yet, that was not her at all. It was yet another mask that she wore to survive another day.

  Emily even had written testimony from a nun at the school, a self proclaimed friend, co-worker and erstwhile mentor during Miss Moore's youth there, and referred to it for a mental exercise while questioning the educator.

  "Some people would say that Mallie didn't know anything about love, or kindness, or the joy of helping others before she came to us, and that's simply not true. You know, they think that because she's never been very happy. I don't think it's in her nature to be, but that doesn't mean that she isn't capable of loving. She just loves far more deeply and singularly than you, or I."

  Sister Eileen had gone on to tell Emily why she thought Miss Rose and the teacher had been drawn to each other. Being so very much alike, it was merely a matter of time before the two women found their way to each other, in her opinion. Dawn Rose's parentage seemed to be happenstance, for Emily did not believe in such silly things as fate.

  She led Mallory through a series of questions about her teaching credentials – qualifications that she'd met to become one would show the jury that the woman certainly knew her fair share about psychology, both adolescent and adult. The more that the jury felt comfortable with the idea of Miss Moore as kind, but intelligent and of her own mind, the less the Defense would be able to crumble that image.

  “Kind” would have been one of the last words that Emily would have used to describe her, but she needed to convince those watching otherwise.

  "Teaching is such a noble profession, Miss Moore," Emily began, trying to make her expression as warm as possible. "Tell me, do you enjoy it?"

  As expected, the staid and rigid demeanor that had coated Mallory Moore since the moment she sat down – with slight exception to when she was forced to look at Steven Rose – melted before her eyes.

  A glow encompassed the teacher's sad smile, as her eyes were glassy. Her alabaster cheeks even pinked a bit, and it was evident to all present the depth of the emotions she was feeling when she spoke. "Oh, yes. I love teaching."

  There were a few harrumphs and chuckles from the press at that, but Emily pushed on. "You love teaching, yes. But, I guess the question on all of our minds is, why you were willing to sacrifice losing the opportunity to teach when you took Dawn Rose into your home. You knew that losing your job was a distinct possibility, isn't that correct?"

  "I'm not sure I follow," Mallory countered, a furrow deepening between her brows.

  Lifting a bound stack of papers up, Emily identified the piece of evidence in question to the judge and jury, and entered it for their consideration before setting it back down and staring back at the witness box.

  "Your friends and colleagues have testified extensively by interview that it was quite the well kept secret, your relationship with Dawn Rose. Several of them warned you, and I quote Miss Elisabeth Sørensen: "Mallie knew that her behavior was against the Catholic Code of Conduct for Teachers, and would be looked at badly by any other educator; but she continued to keep Miss Rose in her care, to protect the girl from her father." Would you not agree with your colleagues' assessments of the situation?"

  The Defense barrister, a nasty piece of work by the name of Douglas Vernon, shifted in his chair while Miss Moore pondered the information that Emily had let slide.

  She had taken a note from his own book – a way to discredit Miss Moore's character – and was attempting to use it in the prosecution's favor. There wasn't any way for him to object. If Mallory was going to deviate from their prepared questions, then Emily was just going to have to get the same results by the means that the tetchy woman would find worthy.

  She seemed to sense that, too. Raising her eyebrow just so, Mallory smirked so gently it might have been called affectionate. "I would agree with my colleagues that they warned me, yes. I took no heed to their warnings, because Dawn needed protection. So, your statement, and theirs, are true."

  "So, you sacrificed your career – your entire career – over an eighteen year old girl? I find that very hard to believe, Miss Moore. Surely, you must have had some serious misgivings about Mr. Rose when you met him again at the school. Could you tell us about that day?" Emily guided, wanting the jury to see Miss Moore's actions as valiant and admirable, rather than something to be frowned upon.

  Surprisingly, Mallory seemed happy with the request, and settled back in her chair. She regaled the jury with how Steven Rose and Dawn's ex-fiance had come to the school to carry her off into some sort of arranged marriage, and how she'd hidden the sobbing girl in a custodial closet to lead them off the trail.

  "Of course, I recognized him that day," she chuckled. "I knew that I had to get Dawn away as soon as possible. It's why I followed her into the woods that evening. The students had an end of the year party, you see."

  The statement made Emily freeze, and her blood run cold. She turned back towards the stand, her eyes issuing a warning she hoped Miss Moore would heed. "You... recognized Steven Rose that day, Miss Moore?"

  Douglas Vernon found the response just as earth shattering as Emily did, rifling through his papers on the Defense desk and muttering silently to himself.

  Mallory nodded. "Yes, I did. I knew what a depraved, abominable, corrupt, cold-blooded rapist and murderer he was the moment I saw him walking down that hall," she spelled it out, every adjective used to describe Steven Rose more and more wounding.

  It was haunting to hear, but even worse to watch. For every word she spoke, Miss Moore's face grew even more angry, her sharp cheekbones jutting even farther into relief beneath the stretched skin that was the result of her intense, almost vicious scowl.

  The men of the jury looked anywhere but at the witness box in their shock – the ceiling, their laps, even at Steven Rose. The women alternately teared up, or held a hand to their chest.

  'Shit,' Emily swore in her mind. She couldn't accuse her key witness of lying on the stand, but Mallory Moore had derailed this testimony by leaps and bounds now.

  How could she utilize her redirecting examination questions against the Defense regarding Steven's aging and difference in looks? It was their one play at explaining why Mallory hadn't known Dawn Rose was Steven's daughter until much later. It also was to prevent against any commentary on Miss Moore's own subterfuge in her changed appearance since the crimes, though anyone would have wanted to disappear.

  Why did the woman very clearly state that she knew Steven Rose's identity on that day? How?

  As Emily stared Mallory down, there was a kind of delight, a strange sort of pleasure that twinkled in those green eyes at the predicament of her outright lie.

  'Jesus Christ,' she cursed, and tried rationalize what was going on in the woman's head. 'Is Moore lying now, or has she been lying all along during the investigation?'

  Totally apprehensive about continuing the testimony lest the witness lead them down another rabbit hole, Emily continued nevertheless. She had to at least attempt to salvage this mess, and kept her voice trained as if she was in on the secrets that were sure to spill forth from the teach
er's lips. "If you knew who Steven Rose was that day, Miss Moore, why did you not call the police right then and there, instead of keeping it to yourself until the Crown contacted you after our own investigation? Moreover, why did you go after and protect Dawn Rose?"

  Miss Moore absentmindedly rubbed at her thigh again, like question was beneath her. Her eyes widened just enough, like she was attempting very hard not to roll her eyes. A low, rhythmic laughter fell from her lips, which only broadened in its sinister sounding joy as she finally made eye contact with the prosecutor again.

  "I believe that's two questions, Ms. Baxter – but if the judge will allow it?" she asked the gentleman beside her. A crooked grin graced her face, but the gleaming white teeth revealed between her nude lips looked as though they were poised to rip into something, rather than appearing pleased.

  "I'll allow it, Miss Moore. Answer the questions, please," the judge rumbled. It was clear that he was set on edge by the witness's strange behavior, and found no humor in the questions that Emily had asked. However, he was altogether curious for the response.

  "Of course," Mallory flashed a grin again, this time towards the jury.

  Dread settled heavily in Emily's stomach. She was getting a headache. Miss Moore gave an air of dark, regal beauty. If didn't matter that the woman's hair was twisted messily into a bun, or that she wore no makeup today, she still exuded a dark allure that was impossible to miss. It spoke of elegance, and now it spoke of danger, all in the same breath.

  "I suppose the lily-white answer would be that I'd come to love Dawn after tutoring her all semester, and having her in class. Even if I didn't realize it before that day, or immediately afterward, she showed me in the following weeks and months what it was to love someone, and be loved in return," Mallory guided, making the love story sound like a castle in the air.

  Her gaze had wandered the courtroom during her daydream, and finally settled on Steven Rose for a few moments before it became a bloodthirsty glare. "But then, I could also tell you the darker truth. What better revenge on the man who took everything from me than to love his daughter with every fibre of my being?" she questioned aloud, her tongue sliding over the last words like liquid silver.

  It was enough to make Steven Rose leap up from his seat, and throw an accusing finger towards the witness stand. "I know what you're doing! Stop this, right now!" he hollered, face reddening with the force of his rage.

  Within seconds, the courtroom became a cacophony of noise and motion. The judge shouted for order, while the gallery chattered loudly at the outburst. Jurors' tongues wagged as they alternately crouched in their seats or waved hands towards the ensuing scene. Bailiffs charged both the defense table and the witness stand; one urging Miss Moore to duck, and the other cuffing a very irate Steven Rose, carting him to a holding room until the judge's favor bid his return.

  Emily rushed to the witness stand, and stood partially behind the bailiff protecting Mallory. "God damn it, Miss Moore!"

  This was the prosecution team's key witness – the woman that had been there and lived to tell the tale. Here, she was acting like an unmanageable harlot, bereft of any sort of morality, or shame for the situation she'd placed herself in regarding the Rose girl.

  The longer Mallory Moore stayed on the stand, the case would be trashed. Emily was sure of it.

  Once a semblance of order had come over the courtroom, the judge asked Emily if she wished to proceed for the day.

  She promptly shook her head. "No, your honor. The prosecution has no more questions for Miss Moore," Emily whooshed out, all in one breath.

  The judge considered this. "Are you certain, Ms. Baxter? We could take a recess for the day, so that everyone can collect themselves. Due to her condition, I don't think it would be appropriate to recall Miss Moore at a later junction, only prolonging her... suffering," he looked askance at the woman, who now sat quite demurely in the witness stand.

  The dichotomy in Mallory's conduct startled both the judge and Emily, and the prosecutor was quick to assure him. "I'm certain, Your Honor. Whatever other evidence I have from Miss Moore, I will get over to Defense in writing, and submit it as written testimony."

  The judge wiped a hand down his face. This trial was going to be a difficult one; nothing was drier and more yawn-inducing than reading written testimony aloud, and he knew that. It was rare to see such a practiced legal professional openly admit it, though.

  Emily could sympathize, and glared sideways at Miss Moore, who pouted back. The sarcasm therein wasn't lost on the prosecutor.

  'You're a damned difficult woman...' she thought. 'You know it, too.'

  "The Defense may cross examine Miss Mallory Moore," the judge announced, waving a hand forward towards Douglas Vernon.

  "N-No questions, your Honor," Mr. Vernon stammered. "I'll simply submit my evidence regarding Miss Moore during Dr. Sheehan's cross examination."

  A bevy of press scribbled at their note pads and typed into their tablets at that shocking statement. The court stenographer looked up in confusion from her laptop, and the sketch artist huffed and set down his art pad, the drawing he'd been preparing now useless.

  Mallory Moore smiled as the judge allowed her off the stand, and limped back down the aisle of Courtroom A.

  Emily Baxter watched her go. Months of work had gone down the drain, in less than four hours.

  The woman to blame hummed an eerily cheerful tune as she was escorted out the doors by the bailiffs.

  _____________________________________

  Walking past Mallory as she went her own way towards the courtroom had to be one of the hardest things Dawn had ever done in her eighteen years on Earth – besides what she'd already been through. Every day with her love seemed to contain one more thing that ranked high on the 'hardest things she'd ever done.' It just made Dawn anticipate the thrill of living out the rest of those days with Mallory even more.

  She had been so close; so very near in fact that Mallory's perfume had wafted between them, making Dawn's hair stand on end in remembrance. Goosebumps erupted over her skin, her body yearning to embrace the missing half of its soul. Dawn's mind, on the other hand, was far more cautious.

  It analyzed the last time Dawn had seen Mallory at Dr. Sheehan's home, and recalled that she'd been sent away. Her heart fought valiantly against the memory, replacing it with the first day that Dawn had met Mallory Moore.

  Though it seemed like a lifetime ago, it had only been just short of a year since that day. One achingly long, painful year; but Dawn wouldn't have had it any other way. This was the year that brought both Mallory, and an understanding to depths of unconditional love.

  Dawn never thought she could love someone quite so much. Before this year, the very idea was absurd. She had a sneaking suspicion that Mallory might share the same sentiment.

  The woman who strode past her this morning had been wild-eyed; green irises somehow dull against the shock of white sclera, replete with shadowed circles beneath them. She didn't seem to be wearing any makeup, and that fact astonished Dawn more than anything.

  Mallory had been made up elegantly the day they met, lipstick applied with a careful hand. Her eyes had been bright.

  Today's bare lips formed around silent words, as she and Mallory almost brushed shoulders in the hallway.

  'Amare, I love you,' they said.

  So certain was she of the words, that Dawn's entire face had reacted instinctively. She could feel the glow that radiated from her own cheeks and eyes. She could see how her love's frantic eyes became determined and calm in response.

  For the first time in forever, Dawn refused to feel guilty for loving Mallory.

  She spent most of the day locked in a drab holding room with nobody but a court appointed guard just outside the door. Not allowed reading materials or access to electronics, her morning wore on with much thought towards life after the trial.

  The more she thought about it, Dawn realized that Mallory had been right to think about the future. If she'
d turned in applications for uni on time, she would have had envelopes stacked in the mail to read, and choices to make. Nursing seemed a likely path, and she smiled dreamily at the thought of helping others while curled up in a chair.

  Even if she was accepted to the universities that she wanted, Dawn would need to defer admissions for at least a year at this point. It would be better to let the world forget about who they were, at least for a little while. What would she and Mallory do? Would they travel, disappear and simply exist to one another for a blissful expanse of time?

  Just as she was beginning to doze off, the guard knocked at the door, and opened it without ceremony.

  "Lunch," she said, and slid a tray full of cafeteria style food in. Dawn was locked back into the holding room.