"I love you so much, Alex," I say, grasping his tie and pulling his lips to mine. "Thank you for taking care of me."
He smiles, and gives me another quick kiss before standing. "Wow, if I had known I would get this reaction bringing you lunch, I would have done it an hour ago."
I chuckle and take a bite of the turkey on rye.
Alex leans against the desk facing me. "How's it going? Did you get your opening statement figured out?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I know exactly what to say." I take another bite of the sandwich and wash it down with the remnants of my cold coffee. "Don't worry."
Alex laughs. "Baby, I'm not worried in the least. You are amazing, and I trust you completely."
Twenty-Seven
"Good afternoon, I'm Kylie Stone, and I represent Mr. Alex Stone."
I walk around the podium to address the jurors. The more I can make one-on-one eye contact with them, the better. Besides, if I'm going to do this entire opening off the cuff, I want them to know it.
I glance over my shoulder at Alex, and find those blue eyes that center me. Taking a cleansing breath, I face the jury once more.
"I have to tell you, the man Mr. Gaines described in his opening statement was horrible. I don't recognize that man. He's not the man accused of this crime. Certainly, not the man I know—and I do know him—probably better than anyone. Most of you know Alex Stone as a billionaire, extremely shrewd in his business dealings. Maybe some of you have friends or family employed by him. A few of you may even know someone who has been touched by one of his various charitable endeavors. I could stand here and tell you how nice he is, how kind, and maybe you'll believe me. Maybe it won't mean anything to you because you don't have a point of reference. After all, what I consider nice, kind, and caring may not be your definition. So, instead, I just want to tell you something about this man—something not more than a handful of people know.
"When I met Alex, I was dealing with a serious personal issue. My ex-boyfriend, who had abused me during our relationship, started stalking and harassing me when I finally left him. By the end of the first week of dating Alex, he had saved me from my ex beating me, strangling me, and drugging me in an attempt to kidnap me. I didn't ask for his help—in fact, I was embarrassed that I was in a situation that required protection, at all. Not only did Alex extend his help, he insisted I accept it. When my ex set fire to my residence, Alex not only opened his home to me, but found a contractor to rebuild the top floor of my townhouse."
I turn and look at Alex and smile. "And a few weeks later, when the police released my stalker, the man hunted me down and shot me. When I woke up in the hospital, Alex was there. I learned from family and friends that he rarely left my side. You might expect the man you love to stay with you for a day or two. What you may not know is I was in a coma resulting from my head hitting against a rock after I was shot. One month. He never left me. A woman he had only known a brief amount of time. And he has been with me just about everyday since then."
Good place for a dramatic pause, and I make a point of swinging my gaze to Matt as I glance over my shoulder at Alex. What's good for the goose, and all that…
I point at Alex. "That's the man that sits before you today. It is touching, however, that Mr. Gaines has such a heavy heart trying a man for a murder he didn't commit. What I—along with Alex, and my co-counsel, Jack, want is for the District Attorney to place more importance on the heavy burden he is charged with—the burden of proving this crime beyond a reasonable doubt. The State has laid out a purely circumstantial case. That's probably a term you've heard often, but do you really understand what that means? It means all their evidence is based on circumstances. The prosecution has no direct evidence that Alex committed this crime. All they have are a few circumstances they believe add up to guilt. Let me be clear—the prosecution will offer no forensic evidence that ties him to the murder of James Wells. What they will offer as evidence is weak at best, and a stretch at worst. They want you to suspend belief and comment sense, and grasp the thinnest threads linking together circumstances that on their face, prove nothing. We," I point to Alex and Jack, " ask that you look at each piece of evidence—each offer of proof by the prosecution—with a skeptical eye. Can the evidence they put forth reasonably be considered evidence beyond any shadow of a doubt? I think you will all agree by the end of the trial that the state fails to meet their burden and there will be no offer of proof. The only fair judgment will have to be not-guilty."
Most of the jurors are writing in their notebooks. Two jurors have their heads down. The same two that have not been able to keep eye contact with me. What the hell is up with them? I sit down, but swivel in my seat to face Lisa in the seat directly behind me. "Get me notes on jurors three and seven. And keep your eye on them, and anyone else that looks displeased with our defense."
She nods. "I'll head back to the office now, unless you need me," she whispers.
"Go ahead, the judge is going to wrap this up for the day."
As predicted, the judge calls it a day, and releases the jury. I gather up my notes and slide them into my bag. When I turn, Alex is talking to his family. Paul and Ryan are standing with them.
Ryan gives me a hug over the railing. "You did great, darlin'."
"Thanks, it was better than I thought it was going to be."
Alex's arm snakes around my waist. "Are you going back to the office?"
I half expect there to be a note of disdain to his tone, but there's none. This is new. In the past, my need to work late into the night during a trial has caused tension between us.
"I wasn't planning on it," I say. "I thought I would just bring my notes home and go over them tonight."
He narrows his eyes and tilts his head just slightly to one side. "Oh, I wasn't expecting you to say that. I figured you would want to work on the case."
My heart stops. Is he worried that I'm not giving his case one hundred percent? Or at least the amount of attention I tend to give my other cases?
"I'm going to work on your case, I just thought I could do it from home—but maybe you're right. I should probably just do it from the office." The words rush out of my mouth, matching the high rate of my speeding heart.
A wide grin crosses Alex's face. "No, baby, you misunderstand me. I want you to do whatever you want. Ryan and Paul were feeling sorry for me potentially being on my own and invited me to go out to dinner."
I glance at my two best friends. God, I love them. Of course they would take care of Alex and give me time to do my "lawyer" thing—as Paul calls my work.
"Well, how about I come with you," I say. "I can spend some time with you before I get lost in trial prep. Besides, I need to see that baby boy."
"Then, let's go," Paul says, clasping his hands together.
"I can't go yet," I say, and glance behind me at the judge. He is going over some papers with his clerk, and doesn't seem annoyed that I'm delaying things. "We have to meet with the judge to go over administrative things—but Alex doesn't need to be here for this. Why don't you three head back to the hotel. Jake can wait around for me, and bring me over when I'm done."
The three men nod in agreement. Alex leans closer and kisses my cheek. "I'll let Jake know what's going on."
"Ms. Stone," Judge Franklin calls to me. "Are you ready to get started?"
I turn away from the men as they leave the courtroom, and take my seat at the defense table. "Yes, Your Honor."
* * *
Jake drops me at the entrance of the historic Rowe Hotel. Back when the hotel was first built, the rich and famous would stay when bringing their yachts into port. It's still one of the most beautiful, and most exclusive, hotels in the area. Even when I was making an above average wage, I would have had a hard time paying for more than one night's stay here.
Arches draw the eye up to the artwork painted on the ceilings. Large Persian rugs soften the hard, wide open marble flooring in the lobby. I text Alex for the room number as I walk toward the elevators.
<
br /> "Kylie?" A female voice calls behind me.
I turn and face the last person I expected to see—especially here. "What are you doing here, Angelina?"
"I decided to stay in town. I meant what I said, I want to be here for you." She twists the strand of pearls around her neck, her fingertip turning bright red as she tightens. "I know I will never be able to make up for being absent from your life, but I want the opportunity to be here if you need me."
I shake my head, and stare at her for a moment. She can't be serious? "I will never need you. I have made it through most of my life without you, and I really don't see how that will change in the future."
"But I'm family, Kylie—"
"No," I say, and thrust my finger toward her face. "My family is waiting for me upstairs. The three people that have stuck with me through some of the most horrendous shit anyone can go through. They didn't run away. They didn't decide there was something better to do than be there for me. And not one of them had to do anything for me. But they did. They have done everything for me. That's family. It has nothing to do with the blood that runs through your veins." I press the up button for the elevator. "Since when do you give a rat's ass about family, anyway? Certainly not when I was growing up. And not after Dad died. So what is it you want? Because I don't believe for one minute that you came here out of some maternal love for me."
"I'm sorry you don't believe me, but that is exactly why I'm here. I want to repair the bond we used to have."
She is seriously delusional.
"How are you able to afford this place?" I ask. I know her last husband had money, but I suspect her sudden interest in me has something to do with my new husband's wealth, and not my well-being.
The elevator doors slide open, and a few people step off.
"You don't get through as many divorces as I have without learning how to negotiate."
I step onto the elevator and face her. She has her chin up and shoulders back. She's proud of her accomplishments taking rich men for their money.
"Unbelievable," I murmur as the elevator doors close between us.
As soon as I knock on the door, Paul opens it wide, and invites me with a kiss to my temple. Ryan walks from the bedroom with Kyle in his arms. "Hi, darlin'," he says.
"Hi," I say, and reach my arms out for my nephew. "Give me that baby." Placing my hand on his back, I hold him against me, and rock back and forth. I inhale deeply, savoring the baby smell as I place gentle kisses on his baby fine blond hair. This is just what I needed after the day in court, and the confrontation with my mother. A little bundle of warmth and unconditional love nestling into my body. Simple, beautiful. Centering.
Ryan sets me on the couch with a pillow under Kyle and a bottle while he and Ryan finish getting ready. Alex sits next to me, a smile across his face. For a moment, I can see how life could have been if we had met under slightly different circumstances. We would've had a beautiful family. My heart swells. The thought is sweet, but I wouldn't give up the life I have with Alex for anything.
Dinner was wonderful, but we stay close and eat in the hotel restaurant. By the time the waiter brings the dessert menu, Paul and Ryan are yawning, and I wonder which will fall asleep at the table first. Alex and I send them back up to their room, and we go home. I worked for a couple of hours, and then go in search of Alex. I find him watching a baseball game in the family room.
Alex drapes his arm over my shoulder. I scoot closer to snuggle in, and rest my head on his chest. I cherish these moments, when it's just him and me. Relaxed and quiet.
"So, I saw my mother today," I say.
Alex pulls his head back to look at me. "Yeah? Where?"
I snort. "At the hotel, in the lobby. She caught me before I got onto the elevator."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I take a deep breath, and inhale his spicy, musky scent and revel in the way it calms me and sends tingles through me. "I didn't want it to be the topic of conversation tonight. I just wanted to be able to enjoy my husband, my best friends, and my nephew."
He runs his fingers through my hair, and kisses the top of my head. "You okay?"
I glance up at him. "Yeah, I just wasn't expecting to see her. I thought—well, hoped—she had left town."
"You want to tell me what she said?"
"Not tonight," I say with a chuckle. "I can only deal with one of our crazy parents at a time. Right now, yours has my full attention."
Twenty-Eight
"The State calls Detective Janice McClure," Matt says.
The courtroom is quiet as the detective takes the witness stand and is sworn in. She avoids looking at me or Alex, and focuses only on Matt. Matt goes through the usual questions regarding the detective's experience before getting to the meat of the examination. "Detective McClure, can you explain the events at Alex Stone's residence on the date in question?"
McClure clears her throat. "Yes, law enforcement responded to an anonymous tip of suspicious activity on Mr. Stone's estate, specifically the boathouse," she says, and provides her answer directly to the jury.
Well trained.
"Two police officers were escorted by one of the defendant's security personnel to the boathouse. When they went inside, they discovered a male, obviously deceased."
"Why do you say that?" Matt asks.
"The body was covered in blood, and had several gunshot wounds to his chest."
Matt nods. "Please continue, Detective."
"Law enforcement initially questioned the residents of the house. Since it was determined to be a homicide, my partner, Aaron Kain, and I were assigned to investigate. We questioned Mr. And Mrs. Stone at their residence."
"Did the defendant have an alibi for the night prior to the body being discovered?"
"No, he did not."
"Thank you, Detective," Matt says, and turns to me. "Your witness."
I stand, place my legal pad on the podium, taking longer than necessary to start my cross-examination. I look up and smile at the detective. "Good morning, detective." She can't avoid me now, and it's time to make the tough detective with an attitude uncomfortable. "Can you tell the jury what exactly the anonymous caller said?"
"The caller stated that they saw suspicious activity on the estate at the boathouse," she says.
"That's it?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes."
"There was a search warrant issued prior to the police officers checking the property or the residence on the property, correct?"
"Yes, there was reason—"
"Thank you, detective, you answered my question. Is it standard procedure for law enforcement to obtain a search warrant before making even an initial contact with the owners of the property to determine if there is a simple explanation for what one person may deem suspicious activity?"
"There was reason—"
"Just a simple yes or no will do, Detective."
She exhales heavily through her nose. "No."
I flip the page on my legal pad. "You stated the deceased had what appeared to be gunshot wounds. Was a gun found in the boathouse, or elsewhere on the property?"
"No," she says, her tone sharp. "It was not."
"And, to date, the gun has never been recovered, isn't that right?"
"Correct, the gun has not been found…yet." She gives me a quick smile.
"With respect to Alex Stone. Is there any proof that he left the house the night in question?"
"No, but there is no proof he was there, either."
"So, no cell phone pings that would show that he was somewhere else?"
"No."
"And, of course, you checked his cell phone activity for that night?"
"Yes."
"And did it show he was at home all night?"
"No, it showed his cell phone was home."
Touché, detective.
I pause and stare into space. I know what I want to ask, but there is nothing like making the witness believe a spark of brilliance just came to me.
"Were there any other suspects in this case?" I ask, slowing my words.
She pauses before answering. "No."
"How soon into your investigation did you decide Alex was your prime suspect?"
"Soon."
"How soon?"
"Almost immediately."
"Thank you, no further questions."
Detective McClure steps down from the witness stand and crosses in front of me as I move behind the defense table. A deep exhale expresses her disgust and exasperation with me. Not that I care. I'm done with her and the laughable effort of her investigation to find who killed James. I wouldn't care so much about the lax detecting into this case—after all, I don't really care if they ever find who really murdered my father-in-law. But when they decide to pin it all on Alex, they better have every "I" dotted and "T" crossed, or I will hammer the hell out of them.
Matt calls the head of the crime scene unit as his next witness. The man with dark hair and a groomed beard, sits in the witness box fidgeting with his tie. I gather he is not comfortable in a suit, and would probably prefer to be in his CSU uniform. Or not be here having to testify. He's not seasoned at providing testimony, barely even acknowledging the jury.
"Investigator Shaw, please describe the crime scene?"
Shaw clears his throat, and glances at the jury. "Yes, towards the back of the room was a couch. The cushions were saturated with blood, and a large pool of blood was on the floor next to it."
"May I approach the witness, Your Honor?" Matt asks.
Judge Franklin nods.
Matt hand a stack of eight by ten photo to the investigator. "Do you recognize these pictures?"
"Yes, these are all from the crime scene." The investigator returns the photos to Matt.
"At this time, Your Honor, I would like to admit State's exhibits A through D, and ask we be allowed to publish them to the jury and project them onto the screen?" Matt asks.
"Ms. Stone?" Franklin direct at me.
I stand and go through the photos, and hand them back to Matt. "No objection."
Vindication: Of Demons & Stones: Tri-Stone Trilogy, Book Three Page 18