Lauren scoffed at Bradley’s perfectly timed display of forgetfulness and stepped lively toward her opponent, muttering, “Grandstanding piece of shit.”
Bitch! Bradley thought as he turned toward his seat.
Lauren stepped toward the witness stand and then turned away as if to say Never mind. Maze stared at his defense attorney, mouth agape. He was wondering why she had chosen not to cross-examine the witness.
Of course, Lauren knew exactly what she was doing. She waited until the witness had nearly cleared the box before saying, “Wait, Mr. Ross, I have just one question.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lauren was ready to explode Bradley’s examination of the security officer with one question that would require a simple no reply.
She had known what to ask Ross even before her client had ruptured a gasket and been ushered out the back door. The only question left for her was, Will the jury remember Maze’s outburst and hold it against him, or will they remember Mr. Ross’ answer?
Grinning widely, Lauren sauntered up to the witness box. She tapped a glimmering, high-heeled shoe on the floor and turned to face the witness who had retaken his seat.
“Mr. Deputy Security Chief, I have but one question to ask you,” she said in her sultry voice, which had brought many a man to his knees, including her docile husband. She took a long pause as if considering how best to word the question. It had to be worded correctly, stated precisely in such a way as to get the desired response. Then she acted as if it had suddenly come to her. Of course, this was all for dramatic effect.
“Mr. Ross, after performing your on-board investigation, do you have any material reason to believe that anything—anything—Mr. Maze told you that morning was less than one hundred percent truthful that is, based solely upon only your investigation?”
Mr. Ross looked to Bradley for help and received it.
“Objection.”
“Overruled.”
Lauren smiled at Ross and waited for his reply. Finally, almost inaudibly, he said, “No.”
“Would you repeat that a little louder for the court, please?”
“No!”
Murmuring commenced, both among the members of the jury and the spectators at the back of the room. Bradley sat back in his chair, frowning.
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
“Now, the witness may step down.”
Like the hen highest on the pecking order, Lauren puffed herself up and strutted with newly regained confidence back toward her seat. She didn’t notice, but the top three buttons on her sheer blouse strained to keep her neatly tucked into place. Lauren showed her most convincing death stare to Bradley as she walked past, but it was lost on him. Dillon’s eyes were overtly riveted just a tad bit lower than were hers.
Black bra. Damn, Dillon thought. He craved, desired, coveted, and yes, lusted!
Lauren looked down to where Bradley’s eyes were focused and gently tugged her blouse back into place. All pigs, she thought. She reached her table and spun around to face the judge.
Once again, Judge Howell was transformed.
Oh, no. Not again!
Lauren’s expression transformed into one of fear. Somewhere beneath her cranium, an alarm went off. Her body became rigid as the same unwelcome sensation gripped her. She froze.
God was staring back at her from the bench from within the black justice’s robe of Susan Howell.
Lauren did a double-take, paused, and looked again. “Please, let it not be real,” she whispered to herself.
But it was all too real. The neatly trimmed white beard, wrinkled brow, and stern countenance were undeniable. The glaring figure of God. She slowly glanced around the cavernous room. It seemed larger, but at least this time, it was still a courtroom. As normal, whispered conversations were taking place.
Bradley was in conference with his team, plotting their next move; reporters were bickering amongst themselves; a few jury members were in deep discussion about what to make of Mr. Ross’s answer.
Lauren needed to avert her eyes and turned to her left. Ryan was beaming up at her with a congratulatory, almost worshipful smile. No one else seemed to notice Judge Howell’s metamorphosis.
Suddenly, Lauren dashed toward the clerk and grabbed the Bible used for swearing in off his desk. Without opening it, she raced back to the table. Conversations ceased as everyone turned to look once again at the crazy attorney.
Lauren’s head was reeling. The walls seemed to be rapidly closing in on her. Although she was no longer looking up at Him, Lauren could feel God’s burning presence glaring down at her and through her. She began to hyperventilate. Then, in a state of sheer panic, she spotted it. Instinctively, she raced to Maze’s side of the table and snatched his bottle of anxiety medication. Opening the cap, she dumped all the pills into her hand. Ryan reached out to stop her. Too late. Lauren thrust a pill into her mouth, dry swallowed, and dropped the rest.
Maze scrambled. He tried to retrieve his medication before the yellow tablets rolled off the table. His meaty little hands were able to corral most of them, but several slipped past. He dove to the floor to recover them.
As Maze scooped the prized possessions back into the vial, Lauren bolted to the rear of the courtroom and out the back door, leaving a packed courtroom stunned.
In wide-eyed astonishment, Ryan threw his hands up and looked to the judge for some guidance. Judge Howell stood and told him to go after her.
Lauren was frantic. Her breathing was elevated to a near frenzy, and she was starting to foam at the mouth. Lauren splashed herself with water from the drinking fountain as if she were on fire, as if the cold water might bring her back to reality. Plenty of people saw her anguish, but none stopped to offer assistance. Many believed it was just another psycho woman in a city which seemed to produce far too many crazy beauties. They stood aside, giving her a wide berth.
Turning away from the drinking fountain, Lauren took the Bible and began rifling through the pages.
Catching up to her, Ryan clutched her shoulders, more for his own safety than as a way of helping her. He had no earthly idea what she was capable of in such a state. Quickly, he spun her around to face him. He shook her, trying to snap her back to reality. She scared him. Her eyes were wide with either fright, mental illness, or an undetermined combination of the two.
The Bible slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. Lauren watched as it fluttered open. She reached down to retrieve it, but Ryan prevented her from doing so. In his strong hands, she began to tremble, and then shake. She was on the verge of passing out. She held a hand to her mouth and pointed. No longer did she have to search for what she was seeking. On the floor by her right foot, facing up as if accusing her was the book of all books opened to Proverbs. Highlighted in yellow was the verse 6:16!
As he tried to hold her upright, Ryan’s grip tightened. “Oh, my God, Lauren! Get a hold of yourself!”
At the word God, Lauren regained the power of speech. She stood bolt upright, grabbed Ryan’s suit sleeves. “You saw Him, too?”
“Who, Lauren?”
A small crowd of men had gathered around, unsure whether to deck Ryan for accosting the beautiful damsel or assist him in hauling her away. They stood silently, waiting to hear more.
“The judge. Did you see Him?”
“Him? Her? You mean Judge Howell?”
Lauren began shaking her young partner by the shoulders. “Yes, damn it. Did they look different?”
Ryan shrank from Lauren; her eyes were ablaze and spittle formed at the corners of her mouth.
“How? In what way?”
Satisfied she was the crazy one, the crowd slowly dispersed without uttering a single word. Realizing Ryan hadn’t seen what she did, Lauren released him.
“Never mind.”
“Look, Lauren, I have no clue what you are talking about, but we have got to get you back in there. Howell is pissed, and rightfully so. Bradley and those yahoos are practically rolling in thei
r seats. They’re having a grand old time, and the bailiff is guarding Maze, who, like you, kinda seems to be unraveling at the seams. I need you to be you!”
Ding! Lauren’s cell phone.
It was what she needed. The most minuscule of things brought her back from the brink. Lauren pulled her cell out of her suit pocket and glanced at it. It was a simple, one-word message: “Sex?”
CHAPTER NINE
Lauren Hill and her young protégé were huddled together just outside the courtroom entrance. She was making a few last-minute adjustments to her hair and garments while preparing mentally to face whatever punishment might befall her. Ryan stayed by her side, not only for moral support but to act immediately if Lauren showed any signs of breakdown. Her behavior was incomprehensible. What had befallen his boss over the course of the last few hours was unprecedented. Frankly, he was disgusted, but he also couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.
Replaying several worst-case scenarios in her mind, Lauren prepared herself for everything short of being banished from the kingdom. What she had done, in the eyes of the court, could easily be considered grounds for disbarment. However, her exemplary track record, she honestly believed, would keep her from that fate.
She knew Judge Howell very well, yet there were no guarantees and realized she was in jeopardy of being handed serious reprimands.
How in the world would she be able to respond to the allegations? Tell Judge Howell she had witnessed her transform into God? That would fly about as far as a pregnant rhino in a light breeze. And what did she expect in return for revealing such truth? How ironic: she was a high-powered attorney getting paid rather handsomely to mislead or at least distort the facts enough to where they became truth. Yet if she were to go in there and tell what she damn sure believed had happened, there’d be a mistrial and she’d get a one-way ticket to Happy Acres.
Lauren kept replaying the strange events over and over in her mind. She honestly didn’t believe she was slipping into the realm of lunacy. Damn it to hell! What I saw was real! She wasn’t ready for basket weaving 101 or playing checkers until sunset. She was a lawyer, the best, and there was serious work to do.
Lauren and Ryan’s main concern, of course, was damage control. She was wondering how she was going to turn an unforgettable situation around and make things right. Not likely, she thought. He was thinking about presentation—how to put himself in the best possible light and help his bedraggled employer save face. Neither seemed likely, and he was on edge.
Lauren glanced at her elegant Rolex, which informed her it was 12:37. Ugh! With the early lunch break, the day was dragging along far more slowly than she had expected. Or does God somehow have His grubby hands on the flow of time, as well? she wondered.
She wasn’t being sarcastic. She had already witnessed the impossible stoppage of time performed by the omnipotent Ruler of the universe. It was certainly not beyond His abilities. But unless God revealed to her it was exactly what He was doing, she had no way of knowing.
Looking at Ryan, Lauren smiled shakily, trying to convey confidence. From his worried expression, she knew he wasn’t buying it. Lauren took a deep breath and exhaled hard.
“Well, time to face the music, I guess.”
“I know.”
“Face forward and don’t look intimidated,” Lauren instructed. “They’re vultures waiting to pick over the dead.” Seeing his blank expression, she added, “Don’t worry, it will all work out in the end.”
Ryan wished he could believe that. Reluctantly, he opened the door for Lauren, and the two of them entered.
As they walked briskly down the center aisle, they could feel all eyes were upon them. Following Lauren’s cue, Ryan remained focused on reaching their desk. They heard the murmurings, but neither of them gave the ravenous dogs of the press the satisfaction. Quietly, they took their places, and the bailiff backed away from Maze.
Judge Howell glanced up to acknowledge their presence, but she only nodded. Sure, she understood what pressure Ms. Hill was under to perform. But Judge Howell also had a duty to perform for the people of California. Thousands of taxpayer dollars had already been spent on the trial. In her eyes, the only recourse, for now, was to allow it to continue. It was too close to being in the books. Besides, before putting on her judge’s robe, Susan Howell was first a woman. She knew firsthand what it was like to claw through a man’s world. She commended Lauren for her string of successes and was rooting for her all the way. Still, she realized she couldn’t let the usually bright attorney get away with any further interruptions. Delays were costly, both administratively and professionally. If she wanted to be reelected and remain on the bench, and she did, she had to consider the possibility of reprimanding Defense Attorney Hill. She would have plenty of opportunities to discuss Lauren’s bizarre behavior with her in the near future, but for now, she decided to table it.
Bradley, for all his determination and smugness, looked concerned for Lauren when she returned to her place. Usually, he would have been gloating watching an opponent crumble, worthy or otherwise.
But this was the great Lauren Hill. It was so unlike her to falter. What she had done wasn’t a simple fumbling for words, nor was it a mild fainting spell. Those could be brushed aside as pressure and nerves. This was a breakdown of epic proportions, the likes he had never seen before, and certainly not from the quick-witted Lauren who had so handily beaten him so often, whom he had never known to as much as flinch. Bottom line, watching Hill’s mental deterioration and collapse wasn’t the way he wanted to win a case. Yes, he needed to see justice served, and he believed it would be, but not at the expense of an esteemed peer. He was a competitor, but not that cold-blooded.
Seeing Judge Howell nodding her acknowledgment of Lauren’s not-so-triumphant return to the stage actually relieved him. The reprimand would come at a later date and would likely not be too harsh.
Welcome back, Lauren, Dillon Bradley thought. And without further thought, he turned to his next witness, the gray-haired Beatrice Davis.
Back in charge and back in her comfort zone, Lauren was ready to resume. Real or not, she had come to terms with what she had seen and was determined to let it bother her no longer. Her only matter of concern was to push through this and win the case for her client. Then she could take a couple of days to relax and unwind. The last few weeks had been an emotional roller coaster for her. Speaking of her emotionally sensitive client, she hadn’t given any thought to him since her return. She needed to establish how he had held up in her absence.
Lauren turned to face Maze. It didn’t seem Maze had performed well on his own at all. He seemed worried, distraught, shaken up by her absence and the demons in his imaginative mind. Sweat was beading up on his forehead again. He looked like a pressure cooker seconds away from rupturing. Lauren leaned behind Ryan and gave Maze the stern, come-hither finger. Maze complied and leaned toward her.
“Why do you look worried?”
He didn’t have a ready answer, but he was thinking, Gee, I don’t know, maybe it’s because my attorney had a panic attack and ran out on me. Not daring to voice what he felt, Maze simply shrugged.
“You look guilty,” she whispered.
“I’m not.”
“Listen, in love, war, and trials by jury, perception is everything.” Lauren grit her teeth to let him know she was still the fiery-eyed tigress in charge of the lair. “Pull yourself together. Don’t leave any room for doubt.”
“Yeah, but is my attorney okay?”
Lauren tilted her head back, eyes ablaze. She wasn’t inclined to say anything, just let him see her wrinkled brow and piercing eyes.
“If you’re gonna bother worrying at all, worry about you and you alone.” She sat up, crossing her arms over her chest. She tuned in to Bradley, who was finishing up a question.
“So, Mrs. Davis, you heard some shouting around eleven-twenty that evening?”
“Yes. I’m sure because I looked at my alarm clock.”
“S
houting? A man and a woman?”
“Yes, a man and woman.”
“And where was the shouting coming from, Mrs. Davis?”
“The adjoining cabin. Behind my head where I was trying to sleep.”
“Okay, and what did you hear next?”
Mrs. Davis explained she had heard a terrible crash, the unmistakable shattering of glass, “like a huge window breaking.” Maze sat fidgeting with his sealed medicine bottle as he listened to the woman’s version of what happened. It didn’t go unnoticed by the jurors.
Lauren was fully aware that the twelve were scrutinizing her client. Inside, she was boiling mad, but no one would know it by her exterior—pure cucumber. Although she couldn’t seem to get it through Maze’s thick skull that appearance wasn’t just essential but everything, she had to keep her head. She reached over to get his attention. When he looked up, Lauren shot him a look for the ages.
“Mrs. Davis, the reason why I asked you back to the witness stand is to ask you this one question—to establish one thing that we feel wasn’t established, before.”
The witness nodded. Maze looked at Lauren and cowered, sending whispers amongst the jury.
Bradley continued. “Did you, at any time after hearing that initial explosion, hear any further shouting in the next cabin?”
“Heavens, no.”
Gasps escaped from dismayed spectators. Bradley, content with his strategic move, had no further questions. Lauren, having nothing further to ask, declined cross-examination. Mrs. Davis was allowed to step down, and Osterman helped the old woman hobble back to her seat.
CHAPTER TEN
District Attorney Dillon Bradley was extremely pleased with how the day was progressing. Mrs. Davis’ testimony was damning and unrefuted. The defendant Maze had lost his cool several times during the day, and Defense Attorney Hill had crumbled under pressure (but not so completely that he needed to feel bad about it). Granted, she had outsmarted him a time or two, but he had presented solid arguments for the twelve members of the jury to sink their teeth into, and he believed he had swayed them to his side. With only one witness remaining before the state rested its case, Bradley felt confident he was going to get a conviction and beat Lauren Hill. Sure, much of the evidence was circumstantial and some of the details a bit sketchy, but others had been convicted on less than what he and his team had presented.
In Defense of Guilt Page 5