Unscrupulous Desires: Sisters Torn Apart (Dangerous Family Secrets Book 1)

by Mack Collins

  “Besides they’ll be crazy to send your fine ass to jail,” he laughed as the palm of his hand made contact with my bum delivering a hard smack that sent shockwaves through my body.

  I jerked forward a little from the impact of the sudden smack. “Rob…” I whined, pulling down on my almost inappropriately short skirt.

  “What! I’m just saying you’re fine as hell,” he laughed at his own comment while I kept a straight face.

  This was no time for jokes or games. In a few minutes my future would be determined by a jury. These were people who knew little to nothing about me or what I had been through with my sister. They would be making their decision based on what they heard and saw in court. I needed to be on top of my game.

  ****

  The early morning traffic was horrific. As I looked at my watch I realized how late it was. “Shit it’s almost ten,” I shrieked. I honked my horn viciously, occasionally swearing at the other drivers on the road. I was usually calm behind the wheel but this morning it was obvious that my shaky nerves were getting the best of me.

  I looked over at Robert. He was so calm and collected that I almost envied him. It was like he did not seem to have a care in the world. “That slick bastard,” I muttered to myself as I took the exit leading to the court house. The truth was; he was not the one on trial, so why would he really be worried? To most people he was just Molly’s sad, lonely husband.

  Surprisingly although we spent a long time stuck in traffic we were still able to make it to our destination on time. I quickly parked my car into one of the empty parking spots out in the front of the huge building. I had been to the courthouse hundreds of times before, but this visit felt like my first. The butterflies in my stomach came alive as my entire body quivered from my nervousness. We walked through the hallway leading up to a set of brown double doors. There was a little squeaking noise as I pushed the door open and we walked up the small aisle in the center of the court room. Robert strode in behind me at a steady pace. My eyes perused my environment looking for someone, anyone that I knew. I was relieved to see Aunt Gretchen in the small audience in the room.

  Her face was pale and her eyes were bloodshot red, in her hand she held a white handkerchief, I could tell that she had been crying. The look on her experienced face broke my heart and I found myself weeping silently, trying hard to conceal my tears. Robert looked over to where she was sitting, he gave her a faint smile then shifted his gaze back to me.

  We sat on one of the benches way to the front awaiting the arrival of the judge. Soon a short stout man entered the room from a side door. He was dressed in black and held some files in one hand and a gavel in the other. He was the judge.

  “Please stand for the Honorable Judge Lance Fraiter,” the bailiff ordered.

  Everyone in the court room rose to their feet promptly allowing the judge to take his seat on the small platform in front of the room.

  “You may be seated,” the judge said, his voice was calm yet firm at the same time.

  As my eyes surveyed the room I could see a small group of about fifteen people to my left. They were the jury. I was a bit saddened by the fact that I knew none of them, maybe if there had been someone that I knew they would have been able to convince the others to be lenient with their verdict. I cursed under my breath, wishing that I had never gotten myself into this messy situation in the first place.

  “That dam Robert, he was the cause of all of this drama,” I thought to myself.

  As I looked to my right, I almost pissed on myself. There stood Miami’s best prosecutor, Mr Samson Leer. He was an older man, probably even older than the judge was, his grey hair indicated that he had years of experience under his belt. I had gone up against Mr Leer one time in the past and he had totally destroyed me. That was actually one of the two cases that I have ever lost. I managed to shift my attention from the prosecutor to Miss Bird the court clerk who was getting ready to read my charge.

  “You Miss Linda Carter on the fifth day of June, 2010 at about eight twenty p.m. in Falcona, Quarter of Miami, Florida are charged with attempted murder on the life of Mrs Molly James. Are you guilty or not guilty? How do you plead?” She lifted her head from the document that she had been reading and looked me directly in the eye. Her voice was emotionless.

  I turned to her and replied, “Not guilty.”

  Upon hearing my plea she looked over at the judge who sat to the front of the room and said, “not guilty your honor.”

  The judge nodded his head slightly and then spoke to me for the first time that morning.

  “Do you have a lawyer present here with you today?” he asked.

  “No your honor, I’m going to represent myself. I’m an attorney by profession,” my statement came off with a little too much arrogance in it.

  The judge looked pensively at me and then asked me again whether I was sure that I wanted to represent myself. I quickly confirmed my decision to him. He then informed me that they would see my case today and I was asked to exit to the back where I would have to wait until they were ready to deal with my case in particular. I looked at Robert one last time before following the bailiff into the small room to the back. There I met some other people awaiting trial.

  After about two hours of waiting I heard the bailiff call out my name. I quickly headed out the door and into the court room once again. I was asked to take the stand, so that the prosecutor could cross examine me.

  The bailiff presented me with a Bible and instructed me to place my hand upon the book and take an oath, swearing that I would tell the absolute truth. I maintained a straight face as I repeated every word that he said to me. The bailiff then returned to his position on the right side of the judge’s booth. The judge looked down at me from where he sat and asked me to take a seat.

  In that moment, I wished that I could have wiped off the wicked little grin that Mr Leer had on his face. He strode towards me, in his black suit, almost like a black panther eyeing its prey.

  “Miss Carter what was your relationship like with your sister?” he asked.

  I was a bit taken aback by the forwardness of his first question. He was definitely not dancing around the issue. I tried to remain calm and answered his question looking him directly in the eye.

  “I have a great relationship with Molly, she’s my sister, we share the same blood,” I looked at him, anxious to hear his comeback. Although I was not as much of a “bulldog” in the court room like he was I could pretty much hold my own and he knew it.

  “Miss Carter, I’m talking about whether you guys fought a lot. From what I heard you two were more like enemies with each other,” his look intensified. “Did you guys not have a huge argument a few days before Molly’s accident?” he had a cold hard stare that sent shivers through my body.

  I hesitated a little trying to think of the most suitable answer to his question. I did not want to lie and get caught while there on the stand, however I also did not want to tell him the ugly truth. That we had been fighting for years, ever since she found out about my relationship with her husband. I did not want him to know that I had even threatened to expose her deep dark secret to Robert.

  “Like all sisters we had our little disagreements, nothing major. I mean its human nature to disagree with each other. I don’t think any two people get a long all the time, we’re all different.” I looked over to the jury, hoping that they understood my point.

  “Okay, if that’s what you want us to believe. That’s fine,” he said pacing back and forth in front of the witness stand where I sat.

  He stopped for a moment and leaned forward resting his elbow against the counter of the booth where I sat.

  “Where were you Linda, on the night of June fifth?” he had a weary look on his face.

  “I was at a conference, I was not even in Miami on that night, I was all the way in Detroit,” I said returning the same look that he had given to me.

  “Are you sure of what you’re saying, don’t you lie now?” he urged
me.

  “I have nothing to lie about Mr Leer,” I assured him.

  He turned around looking directly at the jury. He told them he was going to prove that I was nothing but a lying conniving woman. He said I was a relentless, heartless woman who had tried to murder her sister. He ended his rant about me, saying that I had been desperate to satisfy my unscrupulous desires and that’s why I had tried to kill my sister.

  “That’s not true! I love my sister!” I shot back at him, almost at the verge of leaping out of my seat and attacking him for all the mean stuff he had just said about me. The picture that he was trying to paint to the jury was completely false and I could not sit back and let him continue to tarnish my name to this group of strangers that had my fate in their hands.

  “Miss Carter sit down!” the gavel hit the desk repeatedly as the judge tried to get my attention. I had been so caught up in defending myself I had failed to realize that my actions were only making me seem like a guilty woman.

  “You see people that’s the kind of violent nature that took over her, that night,” Mr. Leer smiled deviously having accomplished his goal of having me erupt in front of the jury.

  It took a minute before I could calm down. “That’s all your Honor,” Mr. Leer said with a look of satisfaction on his face. He walked over to his desk and allowed me the opportunity to leave the stand and return to the desk opposite his where I stood next to Robert.

  He shuffled around some files that he had on the desk in front of him and returned to the front of the court room, this time he called for his first witness, Mona Calendar. I watched as a middle aged woman with thick, curly brunette hair walked to the front of the room. She too had to take the oath, swearing that she would tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

  Mr. Leer walked over to the witness stand and began questioning her.

  “Miss Calendar, tell us where you work, and how long you’ve been working there?” he asked with a curious look on his face.

  The woman sat upright and looked him straight in the eye as she answered his question. “I work at the West Springs hotel in Detroit, I’ve been working there for ten years now.”

  “Tell me in all your ten years, what are some of the things you see in the rooms after a guest has left?” he asked.

  “OBJECTION YOUR HONOR!” I stood up to my feet trying to interrupt whatever he was trying to say.

  “Where are you going with your question Mr. Leer?” the judge asked him.

  “I’m trying to show that in all this woman’s years as a housekeeper, she knows when a room is occupied and when it’s not. Your Honor Linda Carter never even stepped foot into that hotel room. She booked it, fair enough, but she never slept in it because she was back here in Miami trying to kill her sister.”

  The judge switched his gaze from the prosecutor to me, “Overruled, you may continue Mr. Leer.”

  I felt a flush of disappointment as the judge allowed him permission to continue with his preposterous claims. He continued to ask the housekeeper several questions about what she found in the room, which was basically nothing. My blood boiled as anxiety gripped my body. I yearned desperately for the opportunity to confront this woman, to cross examine her and make her look like the fool that she was. Finally he was done and it was my turn to approach the witness.

  As I walked towards her I maintained a steady gaze with her. In the past I had found that looking intensely at the witness, made them nervous and intimidated and resulted in them making mistakes and easily losing control of the situation. I stalked her like an animal watching its prey before even uttering one word.

  Finally I decided to show the court how clueless this woman really was. “Miss Calendar, have you ever had one guest in all your ten years, that made their bed?”

  She looked at me, taking a few minutes before she replied with a simple, “yes”.

  My next question would drive the nail in her coffin without her even knowing it. “Miss Calendar, what are some of the things that you do when the guest leaves the room?”

  She immediately started listing several chores that ranged from changing the sheets, towels and toiletries to changing the filter in the coffee maker.

  “So you changed the filter in the coffee maker?” I asked with curious eyes.

  “Yes,” she replied unknowingly.

  “Why would you waste the hotel’s money by changing a clean filter, doesn’t that say something about the type of worker that you are? You just don’t care. Do you?” I asked condescendingly.

  “It was dirty so I changed it.” She shot back with irritation in her voice.

  I smiled, knowing that I had her exactly where I wanted. “So it was dirty right, that’s what you just said?”

  “Yes,” she replied in a firm voice.

  “So you’re a good worker, you try to help the hotel in every way, helping them cut costs, by doing little things here and there to save them money right?”

  “Yes I do, I only change the filter if it’s dirty,” she confirmed, looking over to the jury.

  “So explain this to me then, if no one was in the room, then the filter would not be dirty, because no one would be using the coffee maker. Do you get my point?” I looked over to the jury who all seemed to agree with what I was saying. As I looked back at her face, I could see the look of embarrassment lingering on it. She had been caught in a lie.

  “You see your honor this woman just got caught up in the hype of it all. She knows very well that I was in that room. I actually have OCD, obsessive-compulsive disorder. I clean any area that I use thoroughly, including the hotel room, and I brought my own toiletries, and fixed my bed. But that’s not a crime that does not mean that I was not in the room.” I looked over to the jury before making my last statement. ‘If cleaning after myself is a crime then I don’t know what this world has come to.”

  I looked over at Mr. Leer’s face; he looked impressed at the way that I had man-handled his witness. He must have known that I would not break easily. He asked the judge to take a recess while he met with some of his other witnesses.

  I was quite shocked; who else did he have coming to the stand to testify against me. “Who could it possibly be I thought to myself?” as we left the room to walk outside for a bit to get some fresh air.

  Soon the ten minute break was up and we were called back into the court room.

  “Court is now back in session, the Honorable Fraiter residing,” the bailiff read as the judge resumed to his former position.

  “Your Honor I’d like to call my next witness to the stand?”

  I looked on curiously waiting to see who Mr. Leer’s next witness was. I almost gasped in shock when I saw the young woman walking up from the back of the room. To my dismay it was my new archenemy Ana Jarrett, Molly’s babysitter.

  She looked over to me and gave me a wicked little grin, as she took her oath on the stand.

  Mr. Leer asked her several questions all leading up to the time when she accused me of assaulting her with “a deadly weapon”.

  “What were you doing when Miss Carter attacked you with the knife?” he asked her.

  “I was basically just talking to her, she had been having a huge disagreement with Molly, about something that she should NOT have done,” she gave me a look of disgust with her statement.

  “I simply told her she was wrong, but she was not having it and so she hoisted the huge knife she had in her hand and tried to basically stab me with it and she would have been successful had Molly not intervened,” she continued.

  Mr. Leer walked across to the Jury and said directly to them, “you hear this, Miss Carter had been having a huge fight with the victim, not a little disagreement, a HUGE fight. I’m right Miss Jarrett?” he was now walking back to the witness stand.

  “OBJECTION!” I called out in a thunderous voice.

  “What grounds?” the judge replied.

  “It’s irrelevant details your Honor, all siblings have disagreements. How can an outside third
party determine to what degree we were fighting? It was a simple misunderstanding…”

  “You were FUCKING her husband!” Ana interrupted with an angry voice.

  “ORDER IN THE COURT!” the judge shot back at her, hitting his gavel violently against the desk.

  “You were you were fucking Robert and you KNOW it!” she insisted, disregarding what judge had said.

  “Council control your witness, or I will have her thrown out of court. For contempt!” the judge exclaimed in a powerful voice.

  He had a serious look on his face that made Mr. Leer quickly move to the front of the witness stand to get Ana to calm down.

  I was pleased with myself. I had her showing her true colors without even saying anything much. I anticipated the moment when I would cross examine her. A short while after, the judge asked Mr. Leer whether he had finished questioning his witness and when he confirmed that he was done, I happily sprung up out of my seat and proceeded to the front of the room.

  “Ana what was I doing in the kitchen when we had the disagreement?” I asked her with a weary look.

  “I don’t recall exactly,” she replied.

  “You don’t recall that I was cooking dinner for both you and Molly? Is that what you’re saying? How can you recall everything else but what I was doing in the KITCHEN?” I asked turning around to face the jury. I could see the looks of confusion on their faces. I quickly turned my head back to the front, locking gazes with Ana.

  “To remind you exactly what I was doing, I was standing next to the counter chopping carrots, for the beef stew. That’s what I was doing. Am I wrong?” I asked sarcastically. I knew that she remembered exactly what I had been doing. And she had just been trying to stir up some drama, but her evil intentions did not sit well with me and I intended to show the court her true colors.

  “Yes, you were chopping some carrots, so what? That does not give you the right to come at me with the knife,” she quickly tried to cover up her lie.