Damaged Love

by Sarah J. Brooks

  The junior agent entered the room and walked over, bent and whispered to York who nodded. “Thanks.” After the young agent left, York stood, picking up his file, smiling at Jason. “I’ll be back,” he said before he chuckled. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  The six foot, broad shouldered agent sauntered into the main area where a dozen of his colleagues were standing about. A man in a gray suit with a briefcase was standing to the right, talking to an agent. York could hear the condescending tone in which the man spoke and knew immediately it was Williams’ lawyer.

  “Take me to my client or you will be charged with obstructing his sixth amendment rights,” the man said.

  “Calm down, Mr. Boyles … it’s Boyles, right?” York said upon reaching him.

  “Who are you?” The man turned at his voice with a scornful expression, his pale blue eyes hard as nails.

  York ignored the look. “I’m senior agent York; now if you’ll come with me,” he stated in a calm, pleasant tone.

  The lawyer snickered but followed behind York into an interrogation room. The room was much like the one in which he and Jason were sitting earlier, with a long metal table and the glass panel. In the four corners where wall met ceiling were cameras, which were trained on the occupants of the room.

  In a room on the other side of the wall was a technical agent monitoring the cameras on a large computer screen. York was confident that all his colleagues knew what to do. He guided Boyles to sit while he pulled up a chair on the other side of the table. The lawyer sat glancing at the door several times.

  “Where is my client?” Boyles asked.

  At that moment, an agent brought in a laptop, opened it, and turned it to face Boyles. On it was Jason in the other interrogation chamber, an agent standing at the door.

  “What is this? You said I could see my client.”

  “And you’re seeing him,” York replied with a grin.

  Boyles stood. “You will hear about this.”

  “Tell me about Little Rock Insurance, Mr. Boyles,” York calmly stated, leaning back in his chair.

  The lawyer visibly stiffened, turning with a blank look. “I have never heard of them.”

  The agent opened his folder and pulled out a file, pushing it across the table. Boyles’ eyes followed the file. He sat once again, picked up the file and examined the contents with his eyes before slowly placing it on the table.

  “What do you want?”

  York heard desperation in the voice of the lawyer; though he attempted to sound haughty, he was asking for help. What do you want? Was a question asked by people who got caught, and this former DA now turned defense lawyer was caught in a corner.

  Boyles had been the Deputy District Attorney almost two decades ago when the case of Montgomery’s mother came before him. Desperate for success, he quickly closed the case in order to have one notch added to his belt. A career move that could earn him stars. The more cases he closed, the further up the ladder he went.

  When Detective Henry informed him about the autopsy report, he buried the findings, and since the case was already closed, no one would question anything. While completing the paperwork for the case, he discovered something, a million dollar insurance.

  York shook his head as he ran through his mind the report he had in front of him. Boyles was a piece of work. Jason was only fourteen at the time and was not eligible to sign for the money. In fact, his stepmother was the main beneficiary while the children including Montgomery were secondary beneficiaries in the event something should happen to Edna.

  “Tell me, how does a prosecutor commit insurance fraud, knowing it’s a federal offense?”

  “Are you cutting me a deal or not?” the lawyer asked.

  “Deal?”

  Boyles rested his elbow on the table, leaning slightly forward. “I have information that may come in handy to you.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  What a piece of scum? York thought as Boyles began to reveal client secrets. He was the defense attorney for several high-profile drug lords and politicians. He didn’t care about the fact that he was breaking several laws by revealing his clients’ information, willingly. All Boyles cared about was saving his own skin. He was even willing to bury Williams by saying the boy was the one who bribed and blackmailed him.

  “Do we have a deal?” he asked after about an hour of revealing some of the most devastating client information.

  “Sorry, buddy, I don’t make deals with rotten attorneys,” York replied dryly, standing.

  “Son of a bitch!” Boyles swore, doubling his fist and pounding the table.

  York placed both palms down on the table and leant forward, his six-foot frame towering over the seated Boyles. “Is that a threat?”

  The lawyer looked away and slumped back into the chair. His face took on a defeated look. York straightened, his eyes never leaving Boyles. He gathered his file and placed it neatly into the folder.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” he said to Boyles as he left the room. An agent came and stood guard inside.

  A few minutes later, he entered the room where Jason sat impatiently waiting for his lawyer. His face showed his annoyance at having to wait. York ignored him and took a seat while the guard left.

  “What am I doing here?” Jason inquired.

  “You’re charged with a federal crime, that’s what you’re doing here,” York calmly replied. “I want to show you something.”

  Another agent entered with an opened laptop, placing it on the table before Jason. York moved around the table, coming to stand beside the suspect. They both watched the screen as it showed Boyles sitting in the room where York just left him. An agent stood inside the door. A few seconds passed before the door opened and two more agents entered.

  “What’s happening?” Jason asked, raising his eyes questioningly to the FBI agent.

  York jutted his chin at the laptop. “See for yourself,” he replied.

  As there was no sound on the machine, they could only witness the actions of those in the room. One of the agents appeared to speak with the lawyer who stood to his feet. His hands were handcuffed behind his back, and the two agents who just came in led him out of the room.

  “You need a new lawyer, one who doesn’t commit federal crimes,” the agent told him before leaving the room.

  Chapter 52

  After a preliminary hearing, the trial date was set to begin two weeks after Jason’s arrest. He was appointed a state defense attorney and spent the entire time before trial in a federal jail cell. He was refused bail on the premise that he was a flight risk and had tried to flee the country before his arrest. Given that his bank account was frozen due to multiple counts of fraudulent activity, ranging from blackmail to check forgeries, he could not afford a lawyer. It seemed that Jason’s life of crime commenced when he realized he’d gotten away with the insurance fraud.

  On the first day of the trial, Chelsea was not allowed inside the courtroom until she was to testify. As the first witness, she was required to be at the courthouse at the commencement of the trial which was set to begin at 10:00 a.m. The case of abduction was the first to hear, after which he would be tried on the fraud cases. She waited outside the courtroom for almost an hour before she was called inside by the clerk and escorted by a guard. Colt and Reid sat to the back of the room while Jason sat in his bright orange prison suit beside his lawyer. His hands were cuffed and feet bound together. As she’d learned from the prosecutor during the preparation process, it was a no jury trial.

  After she took the oath on the Bible, the federal prosecutor, Miss Fenwick, stood and addressed the court. The woman’s blonde hair was neatly pulled back in a bun, and her dark framed glasses sat pertly on her button nose. She was an attractive woman who didn’t appear to smile much. She had that look that made your heart quiver just a little bit. Chelsea had to remind herself that she was not the one on trial.

  “Miss Downing, tell us what happened the day you were abducted,” Miss Fenwick add
ressed her, studying her with electric blue eyes.

  It was hard recalling and telling every detail of what she could remember. She told them from the time she felt someone grab her to the time she realized she was free. She avoided looking at Jason while she spoke, mostly keeping her eye on the attorney, who seemed to hang on to every word. Once or twice, she glanced at Colt who smiled at her reassuringly.

  When it was time for the defense attorney to cross-examine, her heart started racing uncontrollably. She’d watched many movies with lawyers who would do anything to get their clients off, including blaming the witness.

  “Miss Downing, what makes you so sure it’s my client who abducted you?” he asked, his voice was calm and kind. This threw her off, and she stared at him for a second.

  “First, it was the voice I heard before they freed me. I recognized the voice in the line-up before I even saw the face, and then there was the tattoo.”

  “And you sure you never saw that tattoo before? You met the defendant twice before.”

  “I saw him from a distance. We never spoke, and I never got close enough to know he had a tattoo on his inner wrist.”

  The prosecutor stood. “Your honor, based on our investigation, the defendant got that tattoo a few days prior to the abduction of Chelsea Downing. Even if they had spoken on the two occasions she’d seen him before, she would not have known about the tattoo.”

  “Is that true?” The judge looked at the defense attorney who appeared confused. The lawyer sat and leaned toward his client, speaking softly.

  “Yes, your honor.” He stood and addressed the judge. “I have no further questions.”

  Chelsea’s eyes flicked to the defense attorney in shock. Was that it? Wasn’t he going to grill her and make her cry? She’d come prepared to stay strong, willing herself to be tough, and now he wasn’t going to question her further. She didn’t know if she should be upset or relieved. She was escorted from the podium and was now allowed to sit in the courtroom for the balance of the trial. She sat beside Colt, who immediately took her hand, giving her a gentle squeeze.

  “Your honor, I would like to call to the witness stand …” the prosecutor began.

  The defense stood, interrupting her. “We would like to enter a plea, your honor.”

  “Your honor, this is highly unusual,” Miss Prosecutor protested. “They already entered a plea of not guilty. This case needs to be heard.”

  “Miss Fenwick,” the judge addressed the prosecutor. “Let’s not waste our time, shall we? We’ll hear the plea.” He then turned his eyes to the defendant who now was standing beside his attorney.

  “How do you plead?”

  “We plead guilty, your honor.”

  The judge looked across at Miss Fenwick who didn’t seem very happy. “We accept the plea, your honor.”

  “Very well.” He sighed. “Sentencing will be in two weeks from today,” he said, while the clerk took notes. He hit the gavel and rose.

  “All rise!” the guard said, and everyone got to their feet.

  * * *

  “What happens now?” Reid asked Prosecutor Fenwick.

  She pulled her glasses from her face and placed them on the desk. They were in her office in the federal building, and she was sitting in her high back leather chair. She seemed annoyed as she replied, “Well, the judge will review the case and pass down a sentence based on the evidence. They can plea for a lesser sentence, citing that the defendant willingly submitted to the court.”

  “But he will go the prison, right?” Chelsea asked.

  “Yes, he will.”

  Colt, who was sitting quietly in one of the armchairs in front of the huge mahogany desk Miss Fenwick sat behind, asked, “The witness you were about to call, who was it?”

  “Carla Benson. Her twin brother is a journalist; you should know him—he writes trash about you,” she replied. Chelsea knew she was being sarcastic because she knew he knew Carl. They’d discussed him during the preparation process for the trial.

  “What about the other cases?”

  “He has pled guilty to all the charges that have been laid against him. Therefore, even if he serves a reduced sentence for this crime, he’ll be serving several consecutive sentences which should put him away a long time.”

  They left the prosecutor’s office with mixed feelings. Although everything was almost over, she had been looking forward to seeing Jason squirm under cross-examination. She had been looking forward to hearing the judge finding him guilty when he himself said he wasn’t. Oddly, she was disappointed that he pled guilty.

  “What’s that look?” Reid asked her as they got into the car.

  “I’m disappointed he pled out,” she said sourly.

  Colt glanced her way as he slid into the front passenger seat, but he said nothing.

  As they headed back to the hotel, her disappointment in how the trial went slowly dissipated. She had to be thankful that it didn’t drag on unnecessarily, taking up much of their time. He must have seen that the evidence against him was overwhelming. That’s why he pled out, in addition to having so many other charges against him. He did the best thing for himself and taxpayers.

  Chelsea felt better than she’d felt in the last few days. Now that she had the security of knowing Jason was going to prison, her fear lessened. Colt, on the other hand, seemed quiet. He was there supporting her, but she saw that he was troubled. Reid was the one who couldn’t stop talking about the case.

  “Chelsea, you did great posting those articles. The police would never have suspected that creep if you didn’t point fingers,” Reid said, quite animated.

  Chelsea looked at him in wonder. “But you were mad at me, accusing me of messing things up!”

  Colt, who had his eyes closed with his head resting on the back of the car seat, opened his eyes and narrowly looked at Reid. With a shake of his head, he closed his eyes again, ignoring them both.

  Reid glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “I was wrong, okay.”

  As they made a stop in front of the hotel, her eyes caught sight of a familiar figure. He was standing around, seemingly waiting for someone. A woman, looking just like him came through the hotel entrance and walked up to him at the moment he raised his eyes as she and Colt left the car.

  “What the hell is he doing here?” Colt saw him as he started walking their way.

  Reid was about to drive off to park the car when he braked, coming to a stop. He got from behind the wheel and walked quickly up to Carl Benson and the woman beside him.

  “We don’t need any trouble, Carl,” Reid said.

  Carl held up both hand in defense or was it surrender, Chelsea couldn’t tell. “Not here to make trouble, dude.”

  Colt made a few strides and was in front of him in a moment. Carl turned to him with his mouth open to speak, but Colt’s right fist landed squarely on his lips. His eyes widened as blood trickled from a gash on the lips. Colt pulled back and landed another punch on Carl’s chin. The man reeled back but caught his balance. Colt advanced and was about to pull another punch when Reid grabbed his arm.

  Carl’s lips were bleeding. The woman, whom Chelsea assumed was Carla, dabbed the wound with a handkerchief she pulled from her handbag. Colt wrangled himself from Reid’s hold and moved towards the other man once more.

  “Colt, no!” Chelsea grabbed his arm as he was about to raise it. He paused and looked around at her. ‘It’s not worth it,” she said in a soft voice.

  Colt stepped back, and then turned to walk away when Carl spoke. “Sorry, man.” Colt stopped but did not turn. “My sister told me what happened between you two, and it wasn’t you who caused her to attempt suicide.”

  “You’re fucking sick, lying about something as your own flesh and blood being dead. You sick bastard!” Colt’s voice spewed the venom he was feeling toward Carl. “You told me she committed suicide. How could you do that?”

  “I wanted you to pay for hurting her. She almost died, trying to kill herself. I was the one who
found her in a pool of blood. I know you two were together and then you weren’t. I thought you broke her heart,” was Carl’s hot reply.

  “You’re sick!”

  “Let’s go,” Chelsea said, taking Colt’s hand and pulling him toward the entrance.

  They left the siblings looking on with pained expressions. She was curious about what happened between Carla and Colt, and even more curious about what caused her to try and harm herself. When they got to the suite, Colt immediately locked himself away, leaving her feeling shunned. Reid came back shortly after asking about Colt.

  “He’s in his room,” she told him, a heavy feeling in her chest.

  Reid rested a hand on her shoulder. “He’s probably dealing with a few emotions right now; give him time to accept all that’s been happening. Now that Zoe is awake and talking, he should soon be back to his usual self.”

  What Reid didn’t seem to understand was that this behavior was Colt’s usual self. She inhaled deeply, and then expelled it slowly.

  “What happened between Carla and Colt? Please tell me,” she pleaded when Reid seemed hesitant.

  He beckoned her to the window where he spoke in low tones. “She was part of a group who followed Colt around. What her brother didn’t know was that she was on drugs. As bad as our boy there is, he hates junkies. They dated for a while, and when Colt discovered she was on drugs, they had an argument, and she left.”

  “Was he serious about her?”

  He sighed. “At the time, he was trying to live a decent life. He was young, and I was encouraging him to give up the orgies and threesomes and maybe try one girl.”

  “You haven’t answered my question,” she insisted. “Was he in love with her?”

  Reid laughed softly. “No, he wasn’t in love with her, but he was willing to try having a normal relationship.”