“I’m sorry, Mr. Harris. When I want your opinion on how I run my courtroom, I’ll give it to you. Appearance, Ms. Edwards?”
Feeling like a bobble head still nodding, I said, “May it please the court, Lucy Edwards appearing for the State.”
My hands trembled, but nothing in comparison to my chin as I fought back tears. Fuck him, I thought to myself. Fuck him.
Chapter 18
EXCLUSIVE JURISDICTION
JENNER
The second glass of bourbon slid down my throat as smoothly as the first. That Kentucky hug was warm and tight clear down to my stomach. My feet rested on the coffee table, a motion from a case lay in my lap and a muted college basketball game played on the TV. I unbent a paperclip, poking the metal tip into my palm. Self-mutilation was never my thing, yet between the liquor and the pain from the metal—it didn’t even begin to touch the regret over Lucy yesterday—self-harm was becoming an option.
When my doorbell rang, I tossed the half-empty bag of popcorn into the trash. The bag bounced off the side of the trash can, and popcorn and kernels fell across the stone floor. I tossed a napkin on the counter next to the empty pizza box and headed to the door. The porch was dark, so I flipped the light on and turned the knob.
“Fuck me. What do you want?”
My father, Mr. Supreme himself sauntered in. “This places smells appalling.”
I shrugged as he stepped down into the living room.
“You’re living like a pig. Is this because of this girl that I’m hearing about?”
Shit. “There’s no girl.”
His slicked back hair didn’t budge as he bent down and picked up a throw pillow and tossed it back onto the sofa. Then, he leaned over and snagged the lidless bourbon bottle off the coffee table and drank straight from it. Unlike him, but I dug it.
“No female is worth detouring your career or ending it altogether.”
“Detouring my career?” I laughed. Lucy would have laughed at those words too.
My father’s hand came down hard on the granite stone in the kitchen. “Damn it, Jenner. What are you thinking? A young prosecutor?”
“You know, I wouldn’t expect you to understand. We have something that requires emotion. Four months ago, when I met her, my world stopped spinning or maybe it started spinning,” I laughed. “I don’t know which. But I know when I’m with her, there is no place on earth I’d rather be.” Fuck, my chest hurt.
“Your Hallmark card sentiment is unnecessary. I need you to focus. How do we end it with this Ms. Edwards.”
A dry swallow got jammed in my throat. He’d been told her name. “It’s already over,” I quickly added.
“I swear to God, if this comes back on me because you can’t keep your damn dick in your pants.”
I shook my head. “Of course you’re worried about you. It was never Mom and it was certainly never me. It’s always been about you.” No emotion was attached to my words.
“Jesus. You always have been the most ungrateful child. Ivy league education. Law school. Straight into a career so that you could get the judgeship. Were there more qualified candidates? Of course. But, I took care of you. And once again, all you have to say is what a terrible parent I was.”
I rubbed my palms down the length of my face, wishing he’d go back to Washington. “Husband too,” I added. “Don’t forget. You were a terrible husband too.”
There it was. That one vein that always popped out on his forehead when he got angry. A sense of satisfaction grew inside of me.
“That’s fine, son. You are on your own. Go ahead and ruin your life. Just know that I have no intention of letting you ruin mine.” He grabbed a jacket that I never realized he even took off and slid his arms into it as he walked toward the door grunting and groaning the entire way. “Odd though. Your young friend was very willing to never fuck you again,” he said, stepping out onto the porch.
“Pardon me?”
He turned around, the porch light highlighting his furry eyebrows arched high on his forehead. “Lucy? That’s her name, right? I paid her a visit earlier. Poor little thing was as nervous as whore in church. But, she’s smarter than you. She will undoubtedly pay heed to my warning.”
With zero hesitation, I lunged at my ruthless prick of a father, knocking him into the porch banister. “How dare you! Stay the fuck away from her,” I gritted with his tie fisted in my hand. The urge to punch the smirk off his face almost won out.
His glare didn’t bother me a bit. “Don’t make me come up to New York again to deal with your shit.” He jerked the front of his dress shirt, adjusting it back into place, then walked down the front steps.
After I slammed the front door behind me, I gave it a swift kick, trying to release a lifetime of frustration. I searched for my phone. I needed to call Lucy. When the doorbell rang again, I glanced around trying to figure out what my father had forgotten. My body still shook with rage, but I opened the door regardless.
Daryanne stood there in my old Princeton sweatshirt that I’d asked for twenty times, but I’d finally given up and let her keep.
“Seriously.” As I tried to close the door, she stuck her arm in and shoved it open.
“I need to know one thing,” she said. “Why her? Why not me?” Her whiney voice grated on my last nerve.
“Who told you where I lived?”
Her shoulder jetted up and down. She wasn’t going to tell me. I was surprised she’d never knocked on my door before, honestly. There was no way my mood would tolerate an ounce of her shit.
“Daryanne. I’m not having the best of nights, could you please leave? I have some things I need to take care of.”
“Jenner, please tell me. What is it that went so wrong?”
My entire body tensed when she grabbed the front of my sweatshirt like we were lovers. I grabbed her wrists, squeezing slightly and forcing her to let go, then I backed away from her. Her overwhelming perfume filled the distance between us.
“Nothing went wrong. We were just wrong. When you feel it, you feel it.”
“And you feel it with her?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying I didn’t feel it with you.” My words were terse, but I didn’t care.
My hand reached for the doorknob.
“Get out, Daryanne,” I said as non-confrontational as possible and opened the door.
Lucy stood on my front step shivering. The tip of her nose was red, maybe from the cold, maybe from the tears. Her nose always reddened when she cried.
“Ms. Edwards.” I hated the formality, but I was shocked.
A single rivulet of tears made its way from her eye down to her chin where it fell to her scarf. I wanted to hold her…to comfort her…and the only thing stopping me was Daryanne standing a mere ten feet away.
“Your father came to my apartment.” She hiccupped a cry. “United States Supreme Court Justice Weber…he…”
I reached toward her, gripping her shoulders.
LUCY
My body hadn’t stopped shaking from the moment Supreme Court Justice Weber walked out of my house. I hadn’t shed a tear until Jenner opened the door. He had the right to know that his father had come by, the threats he’d made and my fear of never loving him again. We’d said the words, in my head I’d already said goodbye. Yet, as I stood before him, shivering from the cold, I wanted him to take me in his arms and tell me everything would be okay.
“Your father came to my apartment.” I hiccupped a gasp. “United States Supreme Court Justice Weber…he came to my place.” I shook my head, still in disbelief.
Jenner stood there. Frozen.
“Jenner,” I whispered as a stream of tears strolled down one cheek. Something was wrong. His vacant round eyes looked defeated. I wondered if the awful words I’d said to him to make him leave my apartment still resonated in his head. When he reached out, gripping my shoulders, my body stiffened.
“Lucy, listen to me. I need you to ignore what’s going to happen in the next
thirty seconds. I need you to know that I…”
Before he finished his sentence, Daryanne’s blond curls came from the shadows. Inside. His. House. Daryanne.
I didn’t know what Jenner was saying. Though I heard his words, no part of my mind could put them together. My life converted into a slow motion catastrophe playing out before my eyes. My eyes flickered to Jenner’s as hard as I fought it. He shook his head as his mouth continued to move. All I could hear was blood swooshing in my ears as my heart crumpled.
She was there with him. At his house. They were together. I took two steps back, stumbling off the brick paved porch.
“Lucy. Lucy. Listen to me,” Jenner raised his voice.
“It doesn’t matter,” I whispered. And it didn’t. “It’s ok.”
Everything was stacked against us. We were wrong from the start. I had refused to believe it in the beginning. And I sure as hell didn’t know what to believe at that point. The night had been an emotional rollercoaster, and I’d crashed. I needed to get away. My mind raced as my eyes moved back and forth between the two of them. I needed to compose myself. I needed to think. I needed out of there…so I left.
***
As I peeled my eyes open, I glanced at the window, looking for sunlight, hoping that the longest night in history was over. My nose was still stuffy from the night full of tears. And today was going to be no easier. It was funeral day. Paige Engle was being buried. She’d unfairly lost her battle with her mother’s illness. Survivor’s guilt hardened inside of me.
I slid my phone off the night table and unhooked the charger. Six missed calls. Three texts. All from Jenner.
Lucy, please call me.
I deserve the opportunity to explain
OK, it is your prerogative to disregard these texts but I’m asking you to please allow me to defend the circumstances. I understand your reaction.
The texts came in through the night, at different times. His night must have been as shitty as mine. Served him right. I wanted to respond but didn’t know what to say. I decided to wait until after the emotional day played out. There was honestly no sense in carrying this on any longer.
There was no covering the red, rashly splotches on my face. Only time would help those disappear. And knowing more tears would be shed today, I applied very little eye-make up. Only some waterproof mascara…the rest of my face remained bare.
The funeral was small. A school bus sat out front of the funeral home; Paige’s class must have come to say their goodbyes. Only a plant and a small arrangement of flowers sat on stands up by the…urn. She was cremated? I wondered about the autopsy Jenner mentioned. Immediately, anger raged inside my body. Cremation. How fucking ingenious. No investigation could be done after the fact. No evidence to charge her sick, bitch mother. As the thoughts registered through my brain, I spotted her. She wept—wails and literal howls of…grief. Or was it regret? Did she mean to kill her? I watched as people surrounded her. Consoled her. The kids from Paige’s class simply stared at the spectacle.
The service was short; the urn was small, and the crowd was even smaller. My heart—already cracked and bleeding from the past few weeks—was simply crushed at the thought of what had happened to this poor girl. I wondered if she knew that her mother was hurting her or if she didn’t understand the unjust hand she was dealt.
When I caught sight of the mother laughing in a corner, I couldn’t think straight. The wrath I wished to unleash on this woman was justified but dangerous. At that moment I didn’t care. Without thinking, I stood, and my feet started moving toward her. Suddenly, more than the rage, I felt the magic floating through the air that I only sensed when Jenner was around. Two forces from extreme opposite ends of the emotional spectrum continued to propel me forward. A man, with his hand resting on Paige’s mothers back, stared at me as I approached them. Unexpectedly, a hand intertwined with mine and led me in a different direction. The grip was strong, firm, unforgiving. But I knew his touch, and even though the hood covered his identity, I knew who he was.
As he casually led me away from my target, he remained silent. I knew his thoughts. I knew them before he even said them. He would reprimand me for attending the funeral. He would say that this shouldn’t be personal. And, maybe it shouldn’t be…but it was.
Once inside his car, we both sat staring out the windshield. The trees were almost completely stripped of their leaves. His hoodie still covered his head.
“Did the autopsy show anything?” I asked softly.
“I haven’t heard anything, yet.”
“But she was cremated. Isn’t all evidence gone?” I shook my head, frustrated that we could have made a difference.
“Lucy, if it makes you feel better, feel free to blame me for this.”
“Why didn’t you trust me? Trust my instinct?”
A sarcastic huff of sardonic laughter scraped up his throat. “You really don’t get it.”
“No, Jenner. You don’t get it!”
“I don’t get it? Don’t tell me I don’t get it, Lucy.” He yanked his hoodie off exposing his face. Obviously, he hadn’t shaved in a while because the dark shadow of a beard covered his face. I hadn’t noticed last night. “Have you ever looked into the eyes of a little Hispanic boy that had both palms burned on the kitchen stove because he stole his father’s change jar to give to a kid at school so he wouldn’t bully him anymore? I have! Have you ever looked into the eyes of a little girl who told the court she’d been hit with a horse whip but because DCF couldn’t find one in the home, I had to put the little girl back into the home. The girl gets beat again and it isn’t until she hides the horse whip in her backpack to show to her teacher that we realize she was saying a whore’s whip. I’ve looked into her eyes too. Or there could be the seven-year-old boy whose father used a curling iron to penetrate him.” I slammed my fist against the steering wheel. “You can’t imagine the things I’ve seen in the short time I’ve done this job. Don’t tell me I don’t get it, Lucy. Don’t fucking tell me that.”
I knew my expression was all sorts of screwed up and my words fell silent.
“You shouldn’t have come today, Lucy.”
“It was the least I could do.”
“You shouldn’t have. It makes you look guilty.” He shifted his car into drive.
“Guilty? I’m the one who was on her side.”
“You still shouldn’t have come.”
“Are you talking about me coming to the funeral or to your house last night?”
His eyes closed as I watched his chest rise with an inhale. “That was unfortunate timing.”
“Unfortunate timing? Is that what we’re calling getting caught…says every guilty criminal.”
“I’m not guilty, Lucy. My father paid me a visit. Then, she showed up. I thought he forgot something, and I opened the door. I never would have let her in.”
Imitating his voice, I sarcastically repeated him, “she doesn’t even know where I live. She’s never been to my house. Take me to my car, please,” I added in my own voice.
“Your car?”
“I drove Midge’s car.” I pointed at the black Honda Accord and gripped the door handle to get out as he parked next to it.
“I’ve clearly done a poor job showing you how I feel. I’m not sure you comprehend the gravity of…”
“Jenner,” I interrupted. “Don’t.”
Jenner grabbed my hand. “Fine. OK. But, go home, Lucy. Please, if you’ve ever listened to me, don’t go back in there. Just go home.”
Once in the safety of my own car, I fell apart. My guts twisted into nauseous knots, and I had to take deep breaths just to keep from hurling. As stupid as it sounded, when Paige Engle was killed, a part of me died. Losing Jenner was the initial blast, but her death was a reminder that I survived and what I was there to do. I still had so much to accomplish. The reality of doing it without him, though, seemed unimaginable. He’d become a part of my essence.
When I got back to my apartment, I dried my te
ars, changed my clothes and updated my resume with my short-term experience with the New York County District Attorney’s office. To tell my future employer that I was wanting to move was going to be easier than telling them I got fired because I was sleeping with the judge. This job was so important to me that it was necessary that I pay heed to Jenner’s father’s warnings. If there was one person that would make sure that I never worked again, it would be him. Supreme Court Justice Weber made that perfectly clear. Leaving Jenner alone was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done.
Chapter 19
SEQUESTERED
JENNER
For the next few weeks, I did everything in my power to give her the space she wanted. In court, I fought not to make eye contact, hoping she found comfort in the space. She didn’t squabble when I ruled against the State. And, she hadn’t been to my office even once. But I waited. Hoping.
That day, I woke to dry gin mouth. Trying to drown memories, I’d indulged in a few too many martinis last night. And now a severe ache seared through my head. Never had I utilized sick leave before, but I speculated today might be the day.
My phone rang as I sat at my desk contemplating my decision. At the same time I picked up the receiver, Larry walked into my office. I hadn’t spoken to him since the night I left his house. He was undoubtedly the one who had informed my father about my questionable relationship. I understood. I wasn’t mad at him. He was my chief judge and my father’s friend.
“This is Judge Weber,” I answered, holding up my index finger to Larry.
“Judge Weber? This is Wayne Collison from the Post.”
I swallowed hard as my eyes darted up to Larry who literally plopped down in my office chair. “The Post?” he whispered.
I nodded.
“Sir, I was wondering if you’d like to comment on a piece we are running in tomorrow’s paper.”
“That depends on the nature of the piece,” I answered. My eyes never left Larry’s. His carried enough concern for the both of ours.
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