Sidebar

by Carsen Taite

  “Hold on, it’s coming.”

  He turned up the volume, and seconds later, a banner across the screen read Mistrial Declared in Darryl Wilson Trial. West straightened up on the couch, eyes glued to the screen.

  “After a week delay in the pending trial of Darryl Wilson, the defendant accused of providing a co-ed from Richards College with drugs that resulted in her death, Judge Camille Avery granted the defense counsel’s motion for a mistrial. The motion was filed under seal, so we can only speculate about the reason for the mistrial, but a statement from the US Attorney’s office said they are exploring their options for retrying Mr. Wilson and the case would likely be assigned to another judge.”

  When the anchor switched to the weather report, Bill turned down the volume. “What do you think about that?”

  West’s first thought was of Camille. Declaring a mistrial on her first federal trial was rough. She’d probably get an earful about the waste of taxpayer money and juror time from Stroud. The decision had to be based on the leaked documents, and the reassignment was likely because the leak had come from her office. Camille’s last text was burned in her brain. I was wrong. About everything. Did everything include believing she’d been involved with the leaked documents?

  “There’s more,” Bill said, breaking through her thoughts.

  “What?” Not sure if she wanted to know, but unable to resist hearing every detail.

  “Avery’s other clerk, Garber, got the boot today.”

  Camille had fired Lloyd? West wasn’t sure if she believed it. “Where did you hear that?”

  “I have my sources.”

  West punched him in the side. “Spill.”

  “Okay, okay. Courthouse gossip. One of the attorneys at the office was in Avery’s court today and said Lloyd was escorted out of the building by the marshals. That’s all I know, but your judge is now down two clerks. Sure you don’t want to give the couch a rest and go see her?”

  West struggled to process the intel. Was Lloyd the one who leaked the documents? Had Camille figured it out, and was that the reason for the cryptic wrong about everything text? Maybe if she hadn’t tuned out of life for the past week, she’d know more. West was desperate to find out. Or was she? Maybe she was better off in her bubble, away from the place and people that caused her pain. “What was the other thing?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said you had some news that might help me out. Please tell me it wasn’t this, because I’m not going back there.”

  Bill shook his head. “Personally, I think you’re making a mistake by not even talking to her, but what I was going to tell you is Lambda is hiring. Before you get all excited, it’s a part-time briefing clerk position and you have to be admitted to the bar, but they’ll accept résumés from graduates who sat for the exam in July. The money’s not great, but it’s a great place to work, and you’d be doing good things—”

  She cut him off with a fierce hug. “Yes! Yes!”

  “Hey, chill. It’s not a sure thing. I can get you the interview, but the rest is up to you. With your grades and standing, you’re probably set, but you can bet they’ll ask why you decided to give up your clerk gig less than a month in.”

  Bill’s words cooled her newfound excitement, but not entirely. Although she’d spent the past week in a steady funk, she’d had a few bouts of momentary panic wondering what she was going to do with her life. This summer her options had been endless, but now most of the sweet jobs would be taken, even the ones at the big law firms. More than once she’d speculated on what she would have done if she hadn’t kept her promise to Hank, but so many of those doors were closed to her now. She didn’t blame him, not in the least, but she’d about decided it was time to reach out to him, confess she’d quit the job he’d given her. She owed Hank an explanation of why she’d thrown away her clerkship.

  Her first instinct was to call Camille to discuss her dilemma with her. Funny, since Camille was the reason she was in this position. If she’d clerked for any other judge, she might have faced conflicts, but none that forced her to decide between kissing her boss and keeping her job. She was better off facing Hank and his disappointment than crawling back to Camille and hoping for a do-over.

  * * *

  Camille peered out the door viewer and sighed when she saw Jay standing on her front step. Jay wasn’t likely to give up and go away, so she swung the door open and waved her in. “Do you want a glass of wine?” She raised the glass in her hand. “I just opened a bottle of red.”

  “Look who’s being all hospitable. Can’t be bothered to join her friends for brunch several weeks in a row, but when you show up at her door, you get free drinks.”

  Camille ignored the jibe, walked to the kitchen, and poured another glass of wine, but Jay was not to be deterred.

  “I’ve conducted a poll of all our friends and the only person who’s heard from you in the last week is Sadie. At first I was excited to hear you were still alive, but then she told me you phoned in the equivalent of a Dear Jane letter, so I’m thinking you might be dead after all. I mean, have you met her? Dr. Sadie Jackson, gorgeous, accomplished trauma surgeon?”

  Camille glared at her, but sipped her wine instead of gracing her with a reply. She’d finally returned one of Sadie’s several calls, thinking it was better to rip off the Band-Aid of possibility than leave her hanging. “It was hardly a Dear Jane. Besides, we’d only been on one date. I was doing the polite thing and letting her know that despite my very persistent friend, I wasn’t really in the market for someone to date.”

  “Fine, but there’s more. Why did I have to hear on the news that your first trial totally tanked? A mistrial right in the middle of testimony? That has to be a juicy story, but since you didn’t bother coming to brunch yesterday, I had to come here to get the scoop. So spill.”

  Now Camille wished she’d ignored the doorbell since it would be a whole lot easier to explain her absence than the events of the past week. “Sit. This may take a while.”

  Camille took her through a summary of the case and the persistent leaks of information that had been contained in sealed court documents.

  “But how did you find out documents were being leaked? Couldn’t the press have just talked to the people who had knowledge of the contents? And that’s not illegal unless it was one of the attorneys subject to your gag order.”

  “Yes and yes, but it turns out one of my clerks was leaking information to a wire service.”

  Jay set her glass down. “Tell me it wasn’t the one you were lusting after. What’s her name?”

  “West,” Camille said, irrationally annoyed Jay couldn’t be bothered to remember her name. “No, it wasn’t her. But she thinks I thought it was. And that’s what caused—never mind. Anyway, no, it was the other one, Lloyd. The marshals are questioning him about his motives, but I’m not sure it matters. He actually had the gall to say he didn’t get what the big deal was for exactly the reason you said—that everyone was telling the press their “why I hate Darryl Wilson” stories. I couldn’t very well let the trial go forward when someone from my own office was obstructing justice.”

  “I see your point, but I heard the case is getting transferred to another judge. How does that affect your career plans?”

  “It doesn’t.” At Jay’s surprised look, Camille plunged on, relieved to finally give voice to the roller coaster of emotions she’d been feeling. “I’m no longer in the business of politics. From now on, I have one goal for my career. Do the right thing, no matter what. It’s what I did in state court and it lost me my bench, but nothing could convince me to go back and change my mind. If I lose out on an appellate bench because I made the tough calls, then it wasn’t meant to be. Those losses pale in comparison to what I sacrifice if I don’t go with my gut.”

  Her speech skidded to a stop and Jay’s eyes widened. “Someone’s on a tear.”

  “Yeah, if only I could figure out how to translate all this good intention to my personal lif
e.”

  “I’m guessing this has something to do with the clerk. West.”

  “We had sex. I thought she was involved with the leaks. She quit. She won’t return my calls.” Camille took another sip of wine after delivering the bullet point summary, bracing for a lecture from Jay about how she shouldn’t have gotten involved with her clerk in the first place.

  “That’s rough,” Jay said. “All of it. You really fell for her, didn’t you?”

  Fallen wasn’t how Camille would describe how she felt. More like crashed and burned before she’d even gotten the chance to tell West she loved her. She wanted to confess the depth of her feelings, but Jay wasn’t the one she should be telling, so she merely said, “It was more than that.”

  Jay nodded knowingly. She set her wineglass down and talked with both hands. “Then you should do something about it. Something big and bold. A grand gesture.” She flicked her hands at Camille. “Quick before you lose your nerve.”

  For a second, Camille was roused by Jay’s words, but then tried to imagine a scenario where West would be impressed by a flash mob, a declaration of love on a jumbotron, or any of the other wild ideas she was certain were reeling through Jay’s head. No, those methods were more likely to send West running than revive their connection. What she needed was some spark to signal West might forgive her for doubting her, for doubting her own feelings, but even though Jay’s excitement was contagious, she wasn’t holding out hope.

  Her phone buzzed, and for a second she imagined she’d conjured a reconnection with West, but when she looked at the screen, she saw a message from Peter Donovan instead. Need to talk. Where are you?

  Chapter Twenty

  Camille fidgeted with the pens on her desk, trying hard not to look in the direction of the webcam the marshals had hidden in the bookshelf to her right. When Ester buzzed to tell her Stroud was waiting to see her, she forced calm, slow breaths, and told her to send him in.

  Donovan and another marshal had come by her house last night after she shooed Jay out the door. Apparently, Lloyd had lasted all of an hour in custody before he spilled the truth about why he’d set West up to take the fall for the leaks in the Wilson case. The ultimate goal had been to make Camille look incompetent, first for agreeing to keep a clerk that was so clearly biased, and second for failing to notice that same clerk was the source of the leak. According to Lloyd, the plan to undermine Camille had been Stroud’s idea, and he’d been loaned to Camille to find opportunities to bring the plan to fruition.

  “Lloyd told us he planted the notes you received, but Stroud wrote them,” Donovan said. “Stroud also gave him the copy of West’s CPS file that he left on your desk.” Donovan cleared his throat. “And it was Lloyd who took the picture of you and West.”

  Camille resisted the urge to try to explain her indiscretion. Justifying her feelings to strangers was the old way of doing things, and she’d meant what she said to Jay about her new perspective. “If you have Lloyd’s statement, I’m not sure what you want from me.”

  “You know as well as I do a confession is a helluva lot better than a statement from an accomplice. Just have a conversation with him and see if he trips up on anything. We’ll be watching the whole time. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

  Watching the whole time. Camille wasn’t sure if the virtual presence of law enforcement in the privacy of her office made her feel more secure or more vulnerable, but as Stroud took his seat, she concluded it didn’t matter now. All she wanted to do was put this chapter of her life behind her and figure out how to win back West.

  “Camille, dear, I came as soon as I could. I’ve had so many calls from the press about these unfortunate matters. First West, then Lloyd. I can’t get a straight answer from the marshals about why they arrested Lloyd when it’s clear West was the one leaking information to the press.”

  Camille relaxed at bit. The fact that he’d plunged right into the details of Lloyd’s arrest told her he was at least slightly worried about whether his role would be revealed. “Actually, Barry,” she leaned forward to give her words a conspiratorial flavor, “Lloyd set West up. He was the one funneling stories to the press. He confessed. Guess we should have looked into that a little more carefully before accusing West.” She sat back and watched his face take on a pinched look.

  “Are you sure? I find it hard to believe the marshals wouldn’t have told me about this development.”

  “Oh, I’m not surprised. He’s saying all kinds of things. I’m sure they’re taking their time to investigate before they make additional arrests.”

  “I see,” Stroud said. Camille let the silence hang between them, certain he wouldn’t be able to resist asking more. She didn’t wait long.

  “I don’t suppose the marshals have shared any of the allegations with you, have they?”

  Camille gave him what she hoped was a knowing smile. “Oh, they most certainly have, which makes sense since they directly involve me and my safety.”

  “Have you spoken with your parents about this?”

  The question threw her for a second and she blurted out, “Why?”

  “Because I’m sure they’d have some advice for you, especially if your well-being is at stake.” Stroud reached a hand across the desk. “Camille, I didn’t want to be the one to bring this up, but maybe this job isn’t worth the risk. You’re an accomplished lawyer. You could secure a job wherever you wanted. Why put yourself in the public eye to risk embarrassment again, especially when you don’t know if the person threatening you might actually be capable of causing you harm?”

  The subtle threat sent a chill up her spine, and Camille pushed her chair back to gain some distance. “I know of very few people who have the ability to put their hands on an unredacted CPS file, and Lloyd isn’t one of them. Would you like to tell me why you had him deliver West’s file to my office?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You do. I know you do,” she said, mustering confidence she didn’t feel. “And Lloyd told the marshals you gave him the file with instructions to leave it on my desk.”

  Stroud’s eyes narrowed, his pupils steely glints of disdain. “I never understood what Blair saw in that trash. I suppose she was a charity case to him, something to make him feel like a big man, but she never even pretended to appreciate the chances he gave her. And you? Your parents would die if they knew you were sleeping with your law clerk, especially one with her lack of pedigree.”

  The personal attack took her off guard. “So this is about West?”

  “No, Camille, this is about you. You never should have gotten this bench. There are others with more experience. Others who didn’t spend the last year in the news because of their poor judgment.”

  Camille’s memory wound back to the conversation she’d had with him the day she started. “Like Mark Hollis? Is that why you did all this—sent me the notes, set me up to look like I didn’t know what was going on in my own court—so you could get me to resign and your buddy Mark could get the job?”

  “Too bad it didn’t work.”

  It wasn’t quite a yes, but it definitely wasn’t a denial, and it would have to do because Camille was done talking to this man. “I think it’s time for you to leave my office.”

  He didn’t move. “No one will ever believe I did anything to you.”

  Bingo. It was like he was reading the standard script of the guilty as charged. “I predict you’re wrong about that. Now get the hell out of my office.”

  She saw the marshals corner him as he crossed the threshold. This wouldn’t be the end of the investigation—there would be lawyers and law-enforcement interviews and court dates—but she hoped Stroud’s demise would clear the way to a new beginning for her and that West would be part of it.

  * * *

  West sat in the dining room at the Blairs’ house picking at her food. She’d called Diane hoping to schedule a quick visit with Hank, but Diane had insisted she come for dinner. S
he didn’t have the heart to say no.

  When she saw Hank, Diane’s insistence made sense. His physical condition had improved exponentially, and he took a lot of pleasure in showing off his ability to walk with a cane. West was relieved to see him getting around on his own, and hoped it would buffer the impact of her announcement.

  “I quit the clerkship,” she blurted out between bites of mashed potatoes.

  Both Hank and Diane turned toward her, neither showing any signs of surprise. “I know,” Hank said.

  “Who told you?”

  “Ester.”

  West sighed. She should’ve known Ester would call and give him all the courthouse news. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  Hank set his fork down and looked at Diane. West looked between them. “It’s okay. You can say whatever you need to say in front of Diane. I’m fully prepared for you to be pissed.”

  “I hate that word,” Hank said. “But let’s talk about choices. You absolutely did have a choice. You always have a choice. I don’t know every detail about what happened, but it sounds to me like you took off when things got rough. I’ve never known you to do that before.”

  “You don’t know what it was like. They were accusing me of violating a court order, breaking the law. And somehow Camille had my CPS file and they were discussing my past—” She stopped mid sentence, conscious of the desperate ring of her rising voice. In the pause, Diane excused herself to check on dessert, and West focused on steadying her breath. She needed to sound more rational if she was going to make him understand.

  “Tell me about Camille,” he said. “Do you think she’s a good judge?”

  West eyed him closely, trying to decide if his use of her first name was for her benefit. “I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  West considered the question. Camille was a good judge—fair, open, and smart. But she was having a hard time separating Camille the judge from Camille the lover, and the lover had shut her out. “I guess I can’t really answer because I’m kind of biased.” She rushed the next words before she lost her nerve. “I fell in love with her.”