Mia was surprised when Bracker stood and requested the judge break for lunch, stating he didn’t wish to have his cross-examination interrupted.
The judge granted the request and Mia stepped from the witness box, her eyes going to the jury as they began to file out. She’d been aware of them throughout her testimony, hearing a few gasps and seeing several faces showing disapproval of what had happened that day. She wondered what they considered worse… a person hiring someone to take such pictures, the woman doing the posing, or the photographer who calmly snapped frame after frame of a subject wearing little clothing and in poses that should remain private. Forcing her thoughts from what they might think, she concentrated on the man waiting for her, stepping into his arms.
“You’re doing great,” Damian said as he drew out a chair for her. Randall had guided them into a small room, none of the three wishing to leave the courthouse and face questions. Lunch had been brought in and though Mia only picked at her sandwich, she appreciated the large latte that accompanied the meal.
“I’m not sure the jury agrees,” Mia admitted. “Several seemed upset about the photo shoot.”
“Taking photos of consenting adults isn’t illegal,” Damian said. “Murder is.”
“I know, but… I don’t want them to think Jennifer was some sort of… bad person. She wasn’t.”
Randall nodded. “No, she wasn’t. Don’t worry, by the time we’re done, they’ll be ready to pass the only judgment that matters.”
“Try to eat at least a little,” Damian said, placing his arm around the back of her chair. “You’re going to need your strength.”
Mia shook her head. “I’m not hungry. Besides, Thorensen’s team was totally shocked that I’m alive to testify. How prepared can they be? It should all be over in just a little while and then you can take me out to dinner.”
Damian picked up a half of her sandwich and handed it to her. “Don’t underestimate them. They might have been surprised, but I guarantee they aren’t going to let you off easy. Thorensen will see to that. His life depends on it. Eat.”
Mia discovered he was right once she was back on the witness stand and Bracker approached.
“How much alcohol did you consume that night, Ms. Fields?”
“Not much, a glass or two of champagne.”
His eyebrow lifted and he shook his head. “You attended a party over several hours and all you had was a glass or two of champagne?” Before she could confirm her answer, he asked, “What other liquor did you partake of?”
“None… just water…”
“What drugs?”
“Drugs?”
“Yes, drugs,” Bracker said. “There were several drugs available, were there not?”
“I suppose so, but I didn’t use any.”
“Are you sure?”
“Objection,” Holden said, “Asked and answered.”
“Sustained.”
“You state you took photos of everyone at the party, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And what was the purpose of these photos?”
“The purpose?” His rapid fire questions were throwing her a bit as was his constant movement back and forth in front of her. “I’m not sure I understand the question.”
“You stated you were hired to take… how did you phrase it?” he asked, moving to his table and flipping through some pages on a legal pad. “Ah, yes, boudoir photos. Is that correct?”
“Yes, but—”
“And yet after completing your job, you stayed at the party, mingling with guests and taking additional photos? Why?”
“Why? Because that’s what I do… take photos for the newspapers, magazines—”
“So you snapped photos of everyone at the party?”
“Yes… well, no. Only the guests… not the staff.”
“Why not? Could it be because you were part of the staff?”
Mia straightened in her seat, understanding he was attempting to make her feel somehow lesser than the high society people who’d attended the celebration. “I also stated that I’d been invited to remain at the party… as a guest.”
“I see,” Bracker said, though his tone indicated he rather doubted her veracity. “And were your fellow guests as much of a teetotaler as you, Ms. Fields?”
“I couldn’t say. I didn’t count how many drinks people enjoyed. It was a party, after all.” The moment she gave her answer, she regretted the sarcastic tone she’d used. She’d done exactly what Randall had warned her against. She’d allowed Thorenson’s attorney to get under her skin.
His smile made her uneasy and his next question proved he’d been setting a trap into which she’d just willingly stepped. “That’s right. It was a party where a large quantity of alcohol as well as a variety of drugs were consumed, correct?”
Mia took a deep breath, determined to leave her emotions out of her testimony. “I really couldn’t say.”
“But you can’t disagree either, can you?”
“No.”
“You mentioned that Ms. Watson seemed nervous but then calmed, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And could that calmness have come with the help of liquor and a few snorts of cocaine?”
“Objection!” Randall said. “There was no evidence of illegal drugs in the victim’s system.”
“I withdraw the question,” Bracker said, then simply continued. “But there was evidence of alcohol in her system, wasn’t there?”
“I don’t really know,” Mia answered.
“There was,” Bracker said, going to the table once again. “In fact, her blood alcohol content was 0.09.” He flipped the paper down and turned to the jury. “Well above the legal limit to be considered quite impaired. So, she was drunk wasn’t she, Ms. Fields?”
Mia lowered the glass she’d taken a drink from to answer. “I-I suppose.”
“Ah, congratulations.”
“What?”
“I see from the ring on your finger that you’re engaged. Who’s the lucky fellow?”
“Objection! Relevance?”
Not listening to Randall, her head spinning from the constant barrage of questions and jumping from subject to subject, Mia’s gaze went to Damian. He was sitting, lips thinned and yet when he met her eyes, he gave her a small smile.
“The relevance will become clear,” Bracker assured the court.
“Overruled. I’ll allow the question,” Judge Yori said.
Bracker turned back to Mia. “Who’s the lucky man?” he repeated.
“Damian Cooper,” Mia said, not understanding the question but not wanting anyone to think she was ashamed of becoming his fiancée.
“Damian Cooper?” Bracker parroted, turning to look at the audience. “Do you mean Special Agent Damian Cooper, the FBI agent?”
“Yes.”
“Ah, I see, well, far be it for me to question the extracurricular activities of a man paid by the state to protect a witness. Unless, of course, he has influenced your testimony.”
“Objection!” Randall said, but Mia heard titters from the jury and watched Damian’s eyes glower at the implication.
“Sustained. Keep the questions to those concerning your client, Mr. Bracker.”
“Of course, Your Honor.” Not appearing the least bit chagrined, he asked his next question. “The photos you took in the bedroom; they were quite explicit?”
“I wouldn’t use that word,” Mia said.
“Really? Well, perhaps a picture is worth a thousand words,” Bracker said. Mia watched as he went to the table once again, this time opening a folder and removing something. “Your Honor, I’d like to enter exhibits into evidence.”
At the judge’s nod, he moved to an easel that Mia only now noticed. It had been set up between the witness box and the jurors. She watched as he slapped photos onto its surface, the use of straight pins holding them into place. Mia saw the way his actions captured the attention of every single juror and then realized something that
had her speaking without being addressed.
“Where did you get those?”
“Ms. Fields, please wait until you’ve been addressed,” the judge said, but Mia only shook her head.
“But those are mine—”
“So you admit taking these pictures?” Bracker said, pointing at the easel.
“Yes,” Mia said, about to demand how he’d gotten access to her files when understanding flooded through her. She’d never retrieved the film canister from the room. Though positive she’d left it on the dresser, it hadn’t been there when she returned. With the events that had happened, she hadn’t considered it all that important. But now she understood that Thomas had found it, had kept it, and had the photos developed. She also understood that when they’d broken for lunch, Thorensen’s team had gone into hyper drive, intent on painting Jennifer in as bad a light as possible. The photos on the board seemed to be doing just that as she saw several women jurors looking embarrassed, and the men seemed divided between disgust and lust.
The first photo showed Jennifer wearing the corset while kneeling on the bed, her back arched, her head thrown back, curls sweeping the hillocks of her ass which were bare but for the small strip of black lace nestled between her buttocks. The next showed her lying on her side, one leg drawn up, blocking the view of her hand that was between her legs. Though each photo was devoid of color, the starkness of the black and white seemed somehow more damning.
Bracker nodded and with what seemed like great showmanship, pinned the last photo to the board, ignoring the audible gasps from several jurors. “And this one? Did you take it as well?”
Mia looked at the photo. As an artist, she saw the erotic beauty of the photo. As a woman who understood that others didn’t believe as she did, she saw exactly what Bracker intended. In this one, Jennifer was on the bed, her legs spread, her hands gripping the rail. It had been snapped only seconds after Thomas had pulled Jennifer’s breasts from the confines of the corset, then bent and suckled her nipples into protruding, hard points, instructing Mia to make sure she got photos of those great tits.
“Yes, I took it.”
Bracker left the pictures on display and shook his head. “And you don’t call these explicit?” Not waiting for her to answer, he continued. “I doubt that many share your views. Well, not decent people, at least.”
“Objection!” Randall said.
Though the judge sustained the objection, Mia knew the damage had been done. Bracker moved to within a few feet of her. “I believe we can all agree that Ms. Watson was a stunning woman, one who would draw the eye of most any red-blooded male. You yourself admitted that she willingly submitted to having these pictures taken, and you also admitted that you left the room while she and my client remained behind. So what exactly happened behind those closed doors?”
“Objection,” Randall said. “The witness can’t be expected to answer questions when she wasn’t in the room.”
Not waiting for the judge, Bracker lifted a hand. “Then let me clarify it for the court. We’re not refuting the lab report that my client’s DNA was found on Ms. Watson’s body. It is obvious that they made love once Ms. Fields left.” He paused and then turned to Mia. “In fact, when did you say they returned to the party?”
Mia hadn’t said but did now. “I saw them about a half-hour after the shoot was over.”
“At which point, did it appear that Ms. Watson was in any type of distress?”
“No.”
“I’d think not,” Bracker said with a smile. “A beautiful woman with a man willing to lavish a great deal of money, not to mention his loving attention on her. Let me paint a different picture. A picture of what really happened that night. A party was held to celebrate the New Year. A party attended by beautiful women and men who appreciated that beauty. A party where alcohol and drugs flowed freely—”
“Objection,” Randall said again. “This isn’t your closing argument and I don’t hear any question for the witness.”
“Sustained.”
“Forgive me, Your Honor,” Bracker said. “I was simply setting the stage. Could it be that you wished for, shall we say, a position where you would be the object of my client’s affection rather than just a simple hired hand? That you were jealous? That you didn’t return to the room for any missing film but that, being a voyeur, you simply wished to see what sort of woman it takes to gain my client’s attention?”
“No,” Mia said, her fingernails digging into her palms. “I wouldn’t touch that man with a ten-foot—”
“Isn’t it the truth that Ms. Watson simply indulged too much? The lab report states that she drank enough to become extremely intoxicated. Could it be that she simply stumbled onto the balcony, and while my client tried to save her, the woman he’d ignored his guests for in order to make love to, he was too late? That her death was nothing more than a horrid accident? That she fell to her death?”
Before Mia had a chance to answer, he waved his hand at the photo board and then said, “I withdraw the question. I’m sure we can see the truth.”
Randall was on his feet before Bracker even reached the defense table. “Redirect, Your Honor?” At the judge’s nod, Randall stood silently, waiting until the murmuring in the courtroom dissipated. Mia expected his questions to start. Instead, he picked up something from the table and said. “The state would like to enter this into evidence?” Given permission, Mia watched him move towards the easel. He pulled a pin from the board and used it to attach the photo in his hand on top of the others before stepping back and turning to the jurors.
“I’m aware that the defense has attempted to titillate you with innuendoes and photos. I want you to remember what you’ve heard others testify to during this trial.” He pointed to the board. “I ask you to remember that Jennifer Watson was not the sort of woman the defense has portrayed.”
“Objection. I’ve heard no questions being asked—”
“In your own words, I’m just setting the stage,” Randall said, not even bothering to look at Bracker.
“I’ll allow it,” Judge Yori said.
Randall nodded and spoke again. “I ask that you remember that Ms. Watson was a decorated agent, a woman dedicated to fighting against corruption. A woman who paid for that dedication with her life.”
Mia was aware that he turned to her and yet it took her a moment to focus. She’d not known of Jennifer’s occupation, had never even suspected the woman was an FBI agent, and yet she was staring at the proof. The photo pinned to the center of the board showed Jennifer dressed in a tailored suit, her hair pinned up into a neat chignon at the nape of her neck, standing on a stage, receiving some sort of award. But that wasn’t what held Mia’s attention. It was the man standing behind her on the stage… a man even now seated in the courtroom. A man whose proposal of marriage she’d just accepted. Looking towards Damian, she saw he wasn’t looking at her. His attention was on the photo. Why hadn’t he said anything? Before she could form more questions, she was being asked her own.
“Ms. Fields, are you all right?”
“What?”
“Are you ready to continue?”
Mia took a deep breath and realized it didn’t matter who Jennifer had worked for or that Damian had kept that a secret. What mattered was that she had paid the ultimate price for doing her job. “Yes, I’m ready.”
Randall gave her a smile and a nod. “You testified that the last time you saw Ms. Watson was on the balcony, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And that the defendant was with her, is that also correct?”
“Yes.”
“Please tell the court what you saw.”
“She was struggling.”
“Are you sure? Could it be that Mr. Thorensen was simply trying to pull Jennifer back from the railing?”
“No. It’s a large balcony. They weren’t near the railing. Not then.” Mia turned to look directly at Thorensen. “The defendant was pinning Jennifer down on the table. She
was crying and trying to get up but he wouldn’t let her. He was raping her. And when he was done… when she tried to run, he picked her up and carried her to the railing. He said, ‘You forgot, it’s the Thorensens who do the fucking,’ and then… then he threw her over.”
Mia and Damian returned to the courtroom once Randall had called to say the jury had reached a verdict. While waiting, Damian had spoken quietly, explaining that he’d been instructed to keep information about Jennifer to himself.
“They couldn’t take any chance that your testimony would be tainted,” he said softly. “I wanted to tell you but I owed it to Jennifer to make sure she was given a true chance at justice.”
Mia was glad to learn that Jennifer Watson hadn’t just been a woman foolish enough to believe that the monster Thorensen actually cared for her. She’d learned that Jennifer had spent six months infiltrating the inner circle, her beauty drawing Thorensen like a fly to honey as she’d gathered evidence, following the money trail of several illegal endeavors.
Thomas Thorensen’s money and power hadn’t saved him… not this time. Mia learned that the penalty for murdering a federal officer would cost Thomas far more than his freedom. It would cost him his life, and she was glad. Justice had won.
The End
Maggie Ryan
USA Today Bestselling Author
#1 International Best Selling Author in Victorian/Historical,
Contemporary and Western Erotic Romance
Multi-award Winning Author
Fantasy is a world that offers endless possibilities. Whether you travel back in time to when the plains were open, take a journey to the cobblestone streets of London, take a stroll along the beach or walk through the streets of some foreign country, every letter of every word offers infinite possibilities. I love to write stories that take a reader on a journey, one they can disappear into and experience what might have been or what is to come. I never try to restrict myself to any one genre because there are just too many delicious possibilities out there and inside my head. I hope you will curl up in your favorite chair and take the journey with me. Happy Reading!
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