Love, Lies & The D.A.

by Rohman, Rebecca

  “He’s in shock. I’m just getting to know him… I think he’s okay. He’s been very quiet. He asked me to come to the house with him so I’m here, offering my support in any way I can.”

  “Send him my condolences. I know these things can be difficult.”

  “I will.”

  “Call me if you need me, okay?”

  “I love you. Bye.”

  I end the call and feel his hands on my shoulders. I turn to face him. He looks very desolate.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “I needed a break from all these people.”

  “That was Bobby on the phone. He said to tell you how sorry he was.”

  He smiles sadly.

  “Thanks for being here… supporting my family. I know this can’t be easy for you.”

  “No worries. I’m happy to be here.”

  “I’m sorry I abandoned you for all that time.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Megan needed you.”

  “You’re so understanding.”

  “You haven’t eaten since last night. Let me get you something to eat.”

  “I don’t have much of an appetite.”

  “Please… for me.”

  He kisses me on my forehead. “Okay. But not too much.”

  I head to the kitchen and stack an assortment of finger foods onto the plate. I grab some drinks and return to the patio.

  A woman is there with him, a brunette, maybe my age or slightly older. I feel like I’m intruding on something.

  “Hi… I’m sorry. Am I interrupting?” I ask cautiously, entering the space.

  Jonathan answers no; she says yes. That’s enough for me to stay put. She stares at me as if I’m somehow encroaching on her territory.

  “Sophie. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this right now. We’ll have to talk later,” says Jonathan.

  “Fine. You have my number. Call me, Darling, if you need anything at all… and I mean anything.”

  She walks away, glaring at me.

  “Did I do something wrong?” I ask.

  “No. She’s just an old flame.”

  “Obviously trying to rekindle a romance,” I reply. “Interesting timing.”

  “I can’t be bothered with her right now. She’s always been an opportunist.”

  “Well, it’s none of my business. Here. Eat.”

  I hand him the plate.

  A while later, I head to the bathroom to wash my hands. I’m leaving the washroom when Sophie approaches me in the narrow hallway. In fact, she’s standing in my way. I move to the left—she blocks my path. I move to the right—same thing.

  “Can you please excuse me?” I say firmly.

  “I know who you are,” she hisses.

  “That’s nice. What’s your point?”

  “Stay away from Jonathan.”

  “I wasn’t aware that he was your property.”

  “I’m warning you. You hurt him like you did your ex, and you’ll be sorry.”

  I feel like I’m about to erupt. My blood is boiling, but the last thing I want to do is start a scene in Jonathan’s family home, especially at a time like this.

  “Get out of my way,” I say as I try to walk past her. She proceeds to push me and continues to block my path. I’m stunned. I snatch her wrist, twist her arm behind her back, and shove her body against the wall.

  “If you ever touch me again, I’ll break your fucking arm off,” I whisper in her ear. “Now do me a favor, stay the hell out of my way and don’t you ever talk to me again.”

  As I make it to the end of the hallway, I run into Jonathan—literally.

  “Hey. Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” I reply, regaining my footing.

  Sophie walks by at the same time, kisses him on his cheek, then says goodbye.

  “Did something happen between you two?” he asks as she disappears.

  At some point, I will tell him about it, but now is most definitely not the time. He has his father’s death and a lot more important family issues to deal with.

  “No. Everything’s okay.”

  He looks at me suspiciously, but at the same time, his mom calls him, and that is the end of the conversation.

  It’s 9:30PM. I am exhausted, and the last few visitors are making their way out. Perhaps I need to head home as well. I can’t seem to find Jonathan as I look around the massive house. I find his mom in the kitchen.

  “Hi, Caroline… is there anything else I can help with before I leave?”

  She holds my hand and smiles.

  “Oh, Hon, you’ve been wonderful. I think we have everything under control here.”

  “I’m happy to help.”

  “Thank you for getting Jonathan here, especially under such difficult circumstances.”

  “I know how it feels. My dad died the same way. It was agonizing not being at home.”

  She tightens her hold on my hand.

  “Caroline, Charles has done so much for me… if you need anything at all please, please call me.”

  I hand her my card after writing my cell and home numbers behind it.

  “Thanks for everything you’ve done… and all that food. Are you going home now?”

  “Yes, but I’ll stay if you need me.”

  “No, Hon. Thanks.”

  “Do you know where Jonathan is?”

  “I think I saw him going into his dad’s office. It’s the first door to the left off the foyer.”

  I knock gently on the door and enter. A huge green chesterfield sofa occupies one of the walls in the room where he sits. My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach at the sight of him. His eyes are red, with skin to match. His hair is a disheveled mess. I realize he’s been taking this a lot harder than he’s been letting on.

  I run to him and embrace him. His hold on me tightens. I feel the agony that emits from his body and the moisture that has accumulated on his face.

  “I’m so sorry you have to go through this,” I whisper. “I know you can’t see it right now, but as time goes by, it gets easier to deal with. I promise.”

  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he utters. “He’s always been here…” His voice trails off.

  There are no more words. Heartbreaking sounds fill the room. I feel for him, for his family. I remember the moment I found out my dad died, and suddenly, I can’t hold my tears back any longer.

  We are two souls in a world of emotional pain, our bodies entwined with each other. Right now, I want to be with him, to stay with him and support him. At this precise moment, nothing else matters—not the fact that he’s the DA.; not the fact that he might someday send me to prison; and not the fact that despite the aforementioned, I have incredibly deep feelings for him.

  He lies down and pulls me in his arms. We lie there in silence for hours; there are no words. Sometimes, nothing needs saying. Sometimes, there is nothing to say. It seems that all he needs at this moment is my presence. At some point, I’m not sure when, I listen as the silence in the room gives way to his soft, long, deep breaths. I’m tired…

  I open my eyes. It’s still dark outside. The soft glow from the green banker’s lamp mildly lights the space. I need to go home. Glancing at my watch, it’s about 4AM. I sit up on the sofa. Jonathan is fast asleep. The tendrils of his messy hair almost cover his eyes. I gently push them away and kiss him on his forehead.

  This has been devastating. As I gaze at him, I wish there was more I could do for him. I suppose this is something we all have to go through at one point or another in our lives. That doesn’t mean it’s easy to sit by and watch, though.

  I have to go. I’m about to stand when I feel his grip around my wrist.

  “You’re leaving?” he whispers.

  “Yes. I should probably get going. Your bags are still in my car.”

  “Can you give me a ride home, please?”

  “Sure. Where do you live?”

  “Not too far from here.”

  We’re about to walk out the dark silent hou
se. Before he opens the front door, he brushes my hair aside, cups my face in his hands, kisses me tenderly on my lips, and then embraces me.

  “Thank you for everything,” he says. “Your being here has made a huge difference today.”

  We take the short drive through the empty streets to his house in a comfortable silence. After an extremely long hug, we say our goodbyes, and I watch him disappear behind the doors of his contemporary house.

  * * *

  The last few days have been unbelievable. I feel cheated. The man I’ve looked up to all my life has unexpectedly been snatched away. In the morning, he was arguing his point as a lawyer, and in the evening, he was gone. There were no warnings, no clues, nor the slightest inclination that anything was wrong.

  He taught me everything I know. I am the man who I am because of him. I feel like a part of my being is ripped away. He was taken way too soon. I wanted more time with him, more phone calls, more family dinners, more weekend trips, more sailing on his yacht—his great passion outside of work.

  Legal advice—he was my go to person for legal precedence, and in a matter of hours, all gone.

  He always told me that when he was gone, I would replace him, and I used to think that I would be happy and honored to embrace that role. Now, I just want my dad back.

  After a long, long shower, I pour myself a glass of wine, and I figure out how I am going to get myself together to move on.

  First, funeral arrangements. Mom only had two requests, the venue and she wanted a private service. It’s up to me to handle the rest. Before I tackle anything, I need to make sure my caseload is handled while I handle things with my family. I sit up in my bed with my laptop and begin making arrangements.

  I feel completely overwhelmed. Perhaps I need to go to bed. After an hour, I still can’t sleep. I think of Jada. She’s been so great throughout this. From the moment I told her Dad died, she forgot her own problems and handled everything down to the minutest detail. I didn’t expect her to be there for me this way, but she has. We’re just starting to become more acquainted with each other. It would be great to hear her voice right now. After spending two days together, I got used to having her around. I miss her.

  My phone blasts through the quiet of my room, waking me. The call I was hoping I would never receive has come. Jada’s file has come to my desk. The disappointment I feel when my assistant calls me with the news is unreal; the timing couldn’t be any worse. It is at that moment I know my job and integrity are at stake here—I have to end this.

  * * *

  I can’t get Jonathan out of my mind. I want to be with him, to be there for him, but I guess that under the circumstances, doing that in plain sight might raise eyebrows, even worse—questions. I shower then make myself some coffee. With Charles dead, it looks like I might be staying in San Francisco for a little while, at least until the funeral.

  At about eight o’clock, my phone rings. I answer. It’s a detective from the SFPD wanting to ask me some questions. I plead the fifth and tell him my lawyers will contact him.

  So shady. It’s been a day that my lawyer is dead, and they’re trying to see if I will cave and talk to them because Charles is no longer here. Then it occurs to me that Charles is no longer here. My top-notch lawyer, the man who was supposed to keep me out of prison, is gone. The man who was going to show the world I am innocent is gone. My stomach turns. I call his office, and as one would expect, Charles’s death has caused some chaos and panic. I leave a message and hope that someone will call me back.

  It’s mid-morning, and I wonder how Jonathan is doing. I can’t call him, or text him, or email him, so it’s torture. It’s possible that both my cell phone and my house phones are tapped, so there’s almost no way for us to communicate. I guess not unless it’s in person.

  Charles had arranged to have my car checked for more tracking devices; now, I’m not sure what the status of that is. When I do find out, I should have them check the house as well.

  I’m hoping and praying that Jonathan will somehow get in touch. I thought of using my Bobbyphone, but then I remember he can’t know about it. I suppose I’ll have to preoccupy my mind and wait until he makes a move.

  I turn the TV on to the local news channel, and I’m glad I’m not in the headlines, not directly anyway. Charles is, and they make the connection to my case. Now, all the pundits are talking about what will happen to my case now that Charles is not here to represent me. Unfortunately, I wonder too.

  It’s late evening, and I still haven’t heard from Jonathan or his father’s office. According to the news, Charles’s funeral will be the day after tomorrow in a private ceremony. I want to attend. I suppose now I have to see if I even make the list.

  I will need to find a new getaway, or maybe it’s time I try to settle into a routine in San Francisco and try to get my life back to normal. However, I worry about the fact that someone followed me and someone tried to break into my home. If I remain in San Francisco, whoever this person is will know where I am. They will know where to find me, and that is a big worry.

  Perhaps tomorrow I will head into the office for a while. Make sure things are up to standard and my absence is not affecting my business. I was due to attend a conference in Brazil in a week, but with everything going on, I’m not sure I should be the face representing my company. I realize now that, as much as I may want to settle back into an old routine, unless Richard’s murder is solved, I will always be a detriment to my own business. For now, it looks like I will have to continue operating from behind the scenes.

  It’s about 8:30PM when I head down to the lobby to pick up my mail. As I’m about to return to the elevator, the young lady at the front desk runs over with an envelope for me. She said it was hand delivered a short while ago. I feel a rush of excitement. I’m hoping it’s from Jonathan, and it is. Enclosed is an invitation to the funeral, but also a personal note from him.

  Hope you’re well and safe.

  I look forward to seeing you soon.

  I’ll be thinking about you.

  I wish that he had said more. However, I suppose that’s as much as he could say without causing too much suspicion in case that invitation had fallen into the wrong hands. I feel a bit of disappointment, and again, this very note is a reminder that this thing going on between us will only have a bad ending with one or both of us getting hurt. Nevertheless, I am thankful for his communication. I wish I knew how he was really doing.

  Days later, it’s after 9AM when I slip into a black boat-neck sheath. I tie my hair into a neat bun, and after I apply a tad of makeup, I add some jewelry, slip on a pair of black pumps, and I head down the elevator.

  I’m a little nervous about seeing Jonathan today. I’m not quite sure what to expect, or what he expects of me.

  I arrive early at the funeral venue. I am so thankful that this is a private event. At least while I’m here, I won’t have to be concerned about rude reporters making a scene. When I arrive at security, Sophie is talking to one of the four officers at the entrance.

  “If you call Jonathan, he’ll let me in,” she says.

  I hand the other officer my ID, he checks my name against a list, then he allows me to go through. Sophie mumbles an expletive under her breath as I walk by. I completely ignore her.

  When I enter the room, his eyes are the first I see. He smiles and immediately walks towards me.

  “Hi. How have you been?” I ask as he kisses me on the cheek then embraces me.

  “I’ve been better. It’s been a rough few days.”

  “I wanted to call. I was worried about you, but…”

  “I know. Will you come to the house after? We’re going to ask people to stay away after the burial, but I’d like for you to be there.”

  “Sure. Do you need me to bring anything?”

  “No thanks. The flowers, basket, plus all the food you sent were enough. Mom told me she received them.”

  “Great. How’s everyone else?”

  “Meg
an is still struggling. I’m hoping she makes it through this alright.”

  “It usually takes some time. Although, some of us never really get over it…”

  “I’m sorry,” he says because he knows I’m talking about myself.

  “I’m going to grab a seat right here,” I say, pointing to the pew near the back. “You know where I am if you need me.”

  “Come. Sit behind us. Please.”

  “I really don’t want to be a distraction.”

  “You won’t be. Come.”

  After some more coaxing, I follow and sit a few pews behind him.

  “By the way, your friend Sophie is trying to get in at the door,” I whisper when he’s about to leave.

  “God,” he sighs and heads in the direction of the entrance only to return alone minutes later.

  Before the service starts, David and Kat sit next to me. Probably sixty or seventy people are present, but not many that I personally know. A few I recognize as public figures, including the Mayor of San Francisco and the Governor of California.

  The service pays great homage to Charles’s life. Now, as Jonathan reads the eulogy, he manages to hold back tears, but many, many times while he reads, he pauses to collect himself.

  At the burial ground, I stand alone at a fair distance from the family, but I ensure that Jonathan can see me clearly. During the service, and even as I stand here, I’ve witnessed a few stares and overheard some whisperings. No doubt, some have recognized me, and although I don’t welcome the attention, I suppose on some level, it’s not something I can completely avoid.

  The burial is extremely difficult for the family. Megan hasn’t been able to stop crying. Pierce tries to console her but ends up breaking down himself. It isn’t until the casket is lowered that Caroline and Daniel hold each other and cry. I watch from a distance as Jonathan puts up a brave front, but it isn’t long before he too breaks down.

  To an observer, it’s heartbreaking. To have gone through that exact experience, I wish there was more I could do. For me, standing there and not being able to console Jonathan is the most difficult; it’s heart wrenching. But I am very much aware that there are many eyes on me, and at this moment, complicating the District Attorney’s life is not something I intend to do. As difficult as it is, I stand my ground and observe from afar.