Elizabeth hesitated for a moment and knew she could give no other answer. “I will do my best.”
Chapter Three
It had been five years since Elizabeth had stepped foot inside a classroom, and as she watched the students settle, she was filled with a warm feeling of remembrance. Law school wasn’t so bad. The rustling of books and papers accentuated by the students’ amiable conversations made her nostalgic. There were spirited conversations; professors who liked to challenge, such as Professor Schmidt, (for inexplicable reasons, a name that Elizabeth kept forgetting to pronounce with the “m”), who got right in a student’s face with his spit flying insulting every answer. She remembered when it was her turn, she took the Fifth; it was a criminal procedure class after all. Unfortunately, Professor Schmidt failed to see the humor and demanded that she leave the class, forcing her to scrounge for the remainder of the lecture notes from fellow classmates, who proved stingy. Okay, maybe law school wasn’t so great.
“Good morning, class. I would like to introduce you to our guest, Elizabeth Campbell, Supervising Attorney at the Southern Indigent Legal Center,” Professor Elena Dixon announced as she gestured toward Elizabeth, and she straightened, a bundle of nerves finding its way into her stomach. Why was she nervous? It wasn’t like her entire life was staked on the grade in this class. Okay, maybe I’m channeling too much of my law school days.
She took a deep breath and strode toward the front of the class and stood next to the petite, middle-aged woman, who clearly had the respect of the entire class because no sound, not a paper rustle nor hushed whisper, was made the moment Professor Dixon entered the room. Elizabeth agreed to guest lecture the afternoon class on a moment’s notice when she received a call from Professor Dixon, who had by chance seen her in court and thought she would make an interesting addition to her current lecture series. She wasn’t sure if it was the six oranges gifted to her by her migrant worker client that gracefully spilled out of her bag and rolled across the well of the courtroom or her sneezing fit in response to opposing counsel’s cologne that caught the professor’s attention, but she gladly accepted the offer. SILC was running low on legal interns, and as the newly installed supervising attorney, it was her job to generate new (and free) labor. If it meant standing in front of a classroom reliving her law school days, then so be it.
Her anxieties were put at ease as the professor opened a discussion on the US Constitution. “The Founding Fathers gave us a constitution of checks and balances because they realized the inescapable lesson of history that no man or group of men can be safely entrusted with unlimited powers.” Professor Dixon then posed the question whether the courts should use strict construction in interpreting the meaning of the Constitution, so that the words were taken as written with no extraneous considerations, as the late Justice Scalia argued, or loose construction, a more liberal approach that consults the current norms and ideals.
A student boldly replied that the courts had to take into consideration the events and moral beliefs of current society for it to be relevant.
“Then what value does the document have if it’s subject to the whims and interpretation of a judge?” another student shot back.
“That’s the question. Though there has been no constitutional amendment or act of Congress, the Supreme Court can exercise their naked judicial power and substitute their personal political and social ideals for the established law of the land.” The professor paused and allowed her words to resonate before she continued. “Or is strict construction of the words suffocating the document that was written in an era that could never have conceived the world we now live in?” Professor Dixon asked.
After several minutes of polite discourse, Elizabeth felt comfortable taking the reins. She followed the professor’s easy style and didn’t lecture, but threw out questions and allowed an equal conversation to flow between professor and student. The students hung on her words, some of them even writing them down, a boost for her ego. When the topic turned to the current state Supreme Court that was left one justice short after the passing of its chief justice, Elizabeth sat back and let the professor take the lead. She was equally interested in hearing her take on the current state of the court, as without its seventh member, it currently stood equally divided, with three conservatives and three liberals. The late chief justice was the moderate voice and could swing either way depending on the issue.
Judge Davis Powers, the governor’s nominee for the open seat, was meeting resistance by several on the left. A twenty-year veteran of the state court of appeals, he was anything but moderate. There had been several attempts to discredit the man and have him removed from the bench, but the “good ol’ (white) boys club” was alive and well, and no action or comment, no matter how offensive or unethical, managed to stick. Hence, the state senate was in its second month of deliberating the appointment of Judge Powers. It didn’t help that several senators were facing tough reelections as a result of redistricting, making self-preservation their primary concern. As the discussion evolved, the topic shifted to the fate of the prominent cases on the court’s docket, ranging from a proposition passed by the voters that allowed businesses to deny services based on religious grounds to the Defense and Rezoning Act, better known as DARA, that was approved in a special session called by the governor. The students debated the Constitution, private liberties, and the “compelling government interest” standard, as the professor watched, nodding thoughtfully at some of the statements.
Elizabeth and many of the students were disappointed when Professor Dixon signaled that the class had come to an end. After she confirmed the reading assignments for the next class, the students filed out, several stopping on their way to collect Elizabeth’s business card in hopes of interning. Mission accomplished.
* * *
Grace stood with her arms crossed as she deliberately scanned the asphalt for anything that might have been missed. She crouched by the wall and peered behind a trash dumpster certain that the forensic team overlooked a piece of evidence, but was deflated to find only empty space.
“Looking for leftovers?”
Grace jumped at the voice and stood and turned. “Elizabeth, what are you doing here?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I saw the alley and was in the mood for a little dumpster diving.”
She ignored the quip and trailed her eyes down Elizabeth’s navy suit before turning back to the dumpster. “What are you doing here?” she repeated.
“I was driving past, and I saw your car. What are you doing here?”
“My job.” Grace didn’t really need an answer as to why Elizabeth was here. She already knew when Mrs. Francis walked into her office that they would once again find themselves in this position.
“What are you looking for? Maybe I can help.”
“You can’t help; we aren’t a team. Remember, I put them in jail and you get them out.”
“Grace, why are you so upset?”
She couldn’t answer the question because she didn’t really understand it herself. How could there be a relationship if they couldn’t even be on the same side?
“Grace, please, look at me.” Reluctantly, she turned to face her and made eye contact. “Remember when we first met, you told me that I should spend my time representing someone who says he’s innocent. Well, Jackson claims he’s innocent. He needs help.”
“Well, then have at it,” Grace said, pointing to the dumpster. “Happy diving. I have to get to an appointment.” As she started to walk away, she turned and softened. “Don’t stay too long; it’s getting late.”
* * *
Grace strode through the family restaurant with her father, arms linked, which he believed was chivalrous, but she held on for extra security in case he stumbled. As much as he physically improved after the stroke, she felt better having a hold on him. The restaurant was a place they knew well, as it was their favorite when she was a child, and he led them to their usual booth. The menu was simple and there were be
tter places where they could dine, but memories kept them coming back.
“So, Pop, what are you having?” she asked as she lifted the plastic menus from a metal holder at the end of the table and handed one to him. The question was not a real question, as he always ate the same thing, meatloaf, but she asked more out of tradition.
Once the orders were placed, her father leaned in. “So what’s going on with you?” She suspected something was on his mind because their usual restaurant visit wasn’t due for another week.
“The usual, Pop. Just working a new case.”
He eyed her as though knowing that there was more going on than a new case. “You want to talk about it?”
Growing up, it had only been the two of them, and they knew each other well, so she wasn’t surprised that he sensed her turmoil; however, she wasn’t ready to talk. As much as she loved her father, she never told him that she was gay. She never saw the reason because there was never anyone in her life worth it—until maybe now. A headache began to grow in her forehead, and she sipped at her ice water.
“You want to talk about him?” he asked.
Grace choked and nearly spit her water on him. “Him?”
“I know that look, Gracie. This is a matter of the heart.”
She could only stare until the server interrupted to bring their food. As they settled in carving up their meat, she hoped the topic passed, but it didn’t.
“Well?”
She treaded lightly. “Well, it’s complicated.”
“It always is when it’s worth it.”
His one-liners were about to do her in. She didn’t know whether to laugh or run. She pushed forward, knowing that she wouldn’t be permitted to escape. “We work together, sort of, and that makes it complicated.” Among other things.
“Do you get along?”
She pondered that question. Do we? “We bicker, she…he is stubborn.”
“Ah, your mother was stubborn,” he reminisced. “When she had her mind set, there was no changing it.” Pride was evident in his voice. As his mind returned to the present, he asked, “How do you feel when you’re together?”
It’s hard to breathe when we’re in the same room. “Not sure.”
“All right, I drilled you enough. Just know I’m here for you.”
“Thanks, Pop.”
Chapter Four
“And how does the defendant plead?” the judge asked in a manner indicating that he had asked the same question countless times before.
“Not guilty.” Jackson spoke loud enough so only those closest to him could hear, causing the judge to order him to repeat it. Elizabeth gave him a reassuring smile, and with his pleading complete, finished with the court formalities before Jackson was led away again out of the court.
Elizabeth approached the assistant district attorney and asked the question that had been bothering her since she received the charging document before she headed out of the court. Camille, who had been sitting in the front row, followed directly behind her.
“He looks too thin. What are they feeding him?”
Elizabeth understood her concern and offered the only response she could. “It will get easier.” Although she wasn’t sure that was true. She sank down onto a bench outside the courtroom and thumbed through the charging document.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing…It’s just curious that the victim’s name is not identified in his charging document.”
“Is that unusual?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
Camille sat next to her and leaned in to view the court document. “It says Jane Doe.” Elizabeth nodded in acknowledgement.
“I’ll call someone who may know.” Elizabeth reached into her bag for her phone and pushed her speed dial.
Grace stepped off the elevator in time to see Camille lean into Elizabeth. A sense of uneasiness filled her, and she jammed her hand into the closing elevator door and stepped back in. She wasn’t sure why she came. She had no reason to be there. Her presence wasn’t needed for the hearing, but she wanted to see Elizabeth, if only for a moment, but now she wished she had stayed at the station. Grace’s phone began to ring, and she unclipped it from her belt to view the caller. Elizabeth’s name appeared on her screen, and she hovered her finger over the button. Before she could decide, the call went to voice mail.
She waited until she found a quieter spot outside the courthouse before she listened to the message. “Hi, Grace, it’s me. I have a question, and I know I probably shouldn’t be calling you, but I don’t know who else to ask.” A moment of silence passed, before the message continued. “I miss you.” Grace allowed her tense grip on the phone to lessen, finding a bit of comfort in the last three words.
* * *
Grace leaned back in the driver’s seat with her eyes closed and relaxed her breathing. A gentle sound of crickets filled the still night air, and the peace nearly lulled her to sleep. She hadn’t been sleeping well, her mind refusing to shut down. She blamed it on work, but knew that there were other thoughts that kept her awake at night.
Oncoming headlights forced her eyes open, and she pulled herself up, transitioning to full alert. She watched the car slow and pull into the paved driveway. She narrowed her eyes and peered through her passenger window in an attempt to get a better view of Elizabeth, who exited the car with plastic bags dangling from her arms. Realizing disaster was close at hand as a small tear on the bottom of a bag began to widen, Grace dashed out of her car in a heroic effort and snatched up the bag before the contents broke through and spilled.
“God, you scared me! Where did you come from?” Elizabeth asked.
Without answering the question, Grace scooped up another bag to equal out their load and headed for the front door. Elizabeth followed and juggled her remaining bags as she freed her keys from a side pocket of her messenger bag and opened the door, then allowed Grace to enter first.
Grace had only been in her home once before, but she remembered it well and headed for the kitchen.
“Where do you want these?” Grace asked, lifting the bags in a gesture. These were the first words she spoke.
“Just put them on the counter, thanks.”
Elizabeth busied herself putting the groceries away as Grace leaned against the counter to watch, running her hand against the cool, smooth marble. She smiled to herself at the site of Elizabeth doing a simple domestic task. She had seen her defend the rights of the less privileged, take on the system when no one else believed, and all around kick ass when those close to her were threatened, but this was different. It was ordinary and simple, and yet it was equally wonderful. Grace shook her head. Oh God, I’m losing it.
With her mission complete, Elizabeth pulled down two glasses for wine and poured. “Let’s go in the living room.” She handed a glass over, and Grace accepted.
Elizabeth settled on her overstuffed couch, crisscrossing her legs and resting her arm on the back. Grace sat at the far end, facing forward, gripping the wine glass. She felt Elizabeth assessing her, making her even more uneasy.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, the glass perched at her lips and her eyes fixed on Grace.
“I got your message,” Grace replied as though that sufficiently explained her unexpected visit and tried to keep her eyes trained on the table in front of her, instead of unabashedly staring.
Elizabeth kept her position, quietly sipping her wine and watching.
After a few moments of silence passed, Grace finally spoke. “We don’t know who the victim is.”
“Huh?” Elizabeth seemed as though her mind was engaged in another internal discussion.
“That’s why you called me, right?” Grace turned to her. “You want to know why the name of the victim is not listed in the criminal complaint.” Elizabeth nodded, and Grace continued. “I know I shouldn’t be telling you this, but you’ll get it all during the discovery phase anyway. The victim had no identification on her. Her prints
don’t match anything in our system, and no one has reported her missing.”
“What about her purse?”
“It was nearly empty. There was just a hairbrush, a tube of lipstick, and a compact mirror. No wallet, no ID.”
“Could it have spilled out?”
“I checked the alley myself to see if anything was missed, but nothing. How about you? Did you find anything?”
“No, but I didn’t even know what I was looking for.”
Having said what she came for, Grace set the full glass of wine on the table and pushed herself up with considerable effort.
“Grace, wait.” Elizabeth hastily set her glass down and grabbed her arm. Grace offered little resistance and allowed herself to be guided back to the couch. No longer willing to see how things would play out on Grace’s terms, Elizabeth leaned into her and brushed against her lips. A delicious shiver traveled from her mouth downward as Elizabeth’s lips lingered and taunted.
Grace reached out and caressed Elizabeth’s neck. She weaved her fingers into her hair and pulled her closer to deepen the kiss. Elizabeth groaned, and she desperately grasped at the back of Grace’s shirt trying to find a hold.
Grace moved her mouth lower below her ear, and Elizabeth turned her head to allow her better access. Resting her hand on Elizabeth’s side, she caressed her breast with her thumb. “God, Grace, I’ve been waiting for this.”
Grace pulled back. “Wait, we can’t.” She stood, putting distance between them.
“What’s wrong?” Elizabeth asked.
“We can’t do this,” Grace said, gesturing her hand back and forth between them.
Elizabeth sank back into the corner of the couch and pulled her knees to her chest, forming a protective barrier.
Grace knelt in front of her. “Honey, I’m the detective on the Francis case, and you’re defending him.”
Secrets of the Last Castle Page 3