Two Years Later

by Jones, Lisa Renee

  He cups my head and kisses me. “You are a tough cookie.”

  “Touch enough to kick your ass if you don’t get focused.”

  His cellphone buzzes with a text, he grabs it and glances at it. “Dana sent me a text she copied from the boyfriend’s phone this morning and this just got interesting.” He grabs his briefcase. “Come on. I’ll tell you about it on the way to court.”

  We hurry downstairs where Savage is waiting and we settle into the back of the SUV when Reese’s phone rings. “I don’t know this number.” He answers. “Reese Summer.” His expression goes dark. “How did you get this number, Debbie? Because we both know I changed it a long time ago.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Reese

  I am acutely aware of my wife beside me in the car, while I have Debbie on the phone that is presently pressed to my ear, and I have no doubt that Cat knows this is her. Debbie is trying to get to me through Cat and it’s pissing me off. “How did you get my number?” I repeat.

  “I’m resourceful,” she says, “most mothers are for their children.”

  “I take it the real father doesn’t have money, so you thought you’d just take mine.”

  Cat’s hand come down on my arm and she whispers. “Careful. Buy time.”

  I inhale and say, “Deal with my attorney, not me, but let me be clear: Go near Cat again and I will go to the police, and she’ll go to the press. She’s not one to be held captive by threats anymore than I am.”

  “I have video of us fucking. Do you want me to send it to Cat for her journalistic use?”

  My jaw flexes. “Send it. It can be dated, in many ways, by a forensic specialist and I won’t even have to wait until that baby is born to prove you as the liar you are. I’ll tell Cat and Reid to expect it.” I disconnect and press two fingers to the bridge of my nose.

  “There’s a video,” Cat says, her breath rasping from her throat, and when I look at her, her fingers are digging into her leg.

  “She’s probably bluffing,” I say. “It’s a last-ditch move to intimidate me into paying up. It’s blackmail and I think it’s time we go to the police.”

  She looks at me, her skin pale. “Right. We probably need to.”

  “I’ll talk to Royce,” Savage says. “If you do that, we’ll get our contacts involved, people we trust.”

  I turn to Cat. “Sweetheart—”

  “I’m fine, Reese. I’m fine. I know this was from before my time. It’s just a lot right now.”

  “I know. You know I love you and I want to make this go away.”

  “I do,” she says. “You are not to blame. I don’t want to see that recording though if it exists. Never.”

  “I understand. I wouldn’t either.”

  “She’s bluffing,” Savage says. “There’s no tape. This is the bitch of blackmail we’re dealing with. I feel sorry for that kid, and for the rest of us since she’s the one raising him.” He pulls us to the side of the courthouse.

  “Cat—”

  “I’m fine. Go give me a court performance to keep my mind off of this.”

  Savage exits the SUV. I pull Cat to me and kiss her, and I make sure I do it well, and the pain I taste on her tongue guts me. “Come back with me.”

  “No. You need to focus. When you walk in that door, the job is what matters. I’ll be there watching.”

  Savage opens Cat’s door and I follow her out of the vehicle. I pull her close and we walk inside the courthouse only to have Richard waiting for us just inside. “Dana told you about the message she copied between her boyfriend and the prosecution,” I assume.

  He huddles in with me and Cat. “The boyfriend is here. He came to tell us about it. He says he was trying to find out what they had on Dana.”

  “Or he knows she busted him,” Cat says before I can.

  “Exactly,” Richard says. “But Dana believes him.”

  Royce walks in behind us. “I have something for you,” he says, handing me a folder. “It’s trial related.”

  I open the envelope to find a shot of the assistant working for Dana’s father for the past few years, and she’s naked with Mr. Warren. “How the hell did you get this?”

  “We work magic. My brother is a hacker, remember? She had it on her hard drive which may or may not have had a nefarious purpose. That’s unclear. She’s on the prosecution’s list.”

  I file that away for a moment. “Debbie.”

  “Savage just told me. We’re working on solutions. We’re keeping Cat close.”

  “I am,” Savage assures me.

  “I’m ready to be the only man keeping her close,” I say and turn to Cat. “I need to go.”

  “I can’t wait to see what you do with this,” she says, her eyes filled with excitement over this new development. I love the way she’s so inside my world.

  I wrap my arm around her and pull her close, my lips near her ear. “You’re everything to me,” and with that, I turn and start walking with Richard falling into step behind me.

  “What are you thinking?” Richard asks.

  “That I need the boyfriend out of my face and Dana alone in a room.”

  We turn the corner to our private office areas and Elsa is waiting at the conference room door. “She’s in there with him.”

  I open the door and I don’t even look at Reginald. I focus on Dana. “I need to see you alone.”

  She looks at Reginald. “See you later.”

  He walks over to kiss her, a tall man with dark air and an appropriately chosen tattoo sleeve featuring a Harley since he owns a chop shop. He gives me a nod that I don’t return. I’m not convinced he’s innocent. The minute the door shuts, Dana says, “You heard that he setup the prosecutor.”

  “Tell me about your father’s assistant.”

  “Martha. She’s sweet. I like her.”

  “And tell me why she’s on the prosecutor’s list.”

  “I assume because she’ll testify about me fighting with my father.”

  “And what’s the worst thing she ever heard you say?”

  “‘I hate you.’ Probably many times.”

  That’s not good, but I’m prepared for it. “Did you know she was fucking your father?”

  She blanches. “Martha. No. No way. That didn’t happen.”

  “It did. I have proof.”

  I toss the envelope on the conference table. She looks inside and shoves the photos out of sight. “Did she do it?”

  “If she did, she’s going to come at you hard. What is she going to say?”

  “I told you. I screamed that I hated him numerous times.”

  “Do not leave anything out. I need to know.”

  “I’m not leaving anything out.”

  I consider her a moment. “Are you sure Reginald didn’t figure out that you checked his messages?”

  “I don’t see how. No. He couldn’t have. We can take down the prosecutor now, right?”

  “We can, but that means there’s a potential trial delay. Is that what you want? It gives us time to prove who really killed your father, but it could give the prosecutor time to strengthen his case and it drags this out for you. More money. More time. More hell.”

  “They can’t prove I did what I didn’t do, but I want this over with. I also need to trust your instincts. What do we do?”

  “We decide at the end of today.”

  “Why today?”

  “Because Martha’s on the stand today.”

  I turn and exit to the hallway to join Richard and Elsa in the hallway. “Are you going after the prosecutor?”

  “We decide after I’m done with Martha today.” I look up to find Royce walking in our direction. “Make sure Dana’s head is on right for today,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”

  I step around them and meet Royce a few feet away. “Is there any connection between the boyfriend and the assistant?”

  “Nothing we’ve found yet, but we a
lways look for connected dots. I suspect the assistant thought she would get some payday, in some way. If the boyfriend wanted the same, they fit together.” He moves on. “Wilson Moore, the attorney I told you was involved with Debbie. We pulled camera footage from places Cat frequents and we picked up images of him following her for a good month now. He’s also in financial trouble, neck deep in debt he took out with some pretty rough people.”

  “He’s desperate.”

  “Yes. And that’s not the same thing as just scheming for a payday like Debbie. Desperate people worry me. They do desperate things. If there’s a recording of you with Debbie, they’ll use it, but that’s the least of my concerns. They could go after Cat in a bigger way. I think you might want to get Cat out of town.”

  “Fuck. She’s not going to leave without me.”

  “You’re going to have to make her.”

  “It’s time,” Richard calls out.

  I scrub my jaw. “I’ll talk to you at the break.”

  I turn and meet-up with my client and team, and when I walk into that courtroom and my eyes meet Cat’s, I’m not distracted, I’m motivated. Cat in danger is the best thing that ever happened to Dana. I’m after a confession today from the real killer and I’m going to get one, too. I’m going to end this trial. And then, I’m putting my wife on a plane, with me by her side. Once I get her out of harm’s way, I’ll go after Wilson Moore and Debbie with every ounce of my force.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Cat

  The minute Reese’s eyes meet mine in the courtroom I know that he’s on a mission and everyone that stands in his way is going to feel the pain. The chaos has come together as a perfect storm, and for Reese, that isn’t more chaos. He has this incredible way of centering himself and focusing, that I’ve seen in actions, but never with this much weight on his shoulders. I’m in awe and I prepare for what I know will be a dynamic day in court. I’m actually impatient as the jury and judge take their places, eager to get started and it starts with a bang.

  The prosecution is now up, and Milton Wicker, the lead prosecutor, who in a blue suit and looking rather gaunt today, remains in control. His first order of business is to cast Reese’s table a dramatic stare before he calls Officer Marks; a tall, fit, fifty-something officer with salt and pepper hair who’d responded to the crime scene to the stand. Milton proceeds to go through a series of useless questions that all center around Dana’s behavior when she discovered her father dead. “Did Ms. Warren cry?”

  “No, she did not,” Officer Marks replies.

  “Did she appear to grieve in any other way?”

  “No, she did not.”

  I expect Reese to object but he doesn’t, which means he has a plan, and he’s letting the prosecutor walk into a trap. This questioning drags out and presents absolutely no evidence that Dana killed her father. It’s all about making her look like a spoiled rich daughter who was after her father’s money. Finally, it’s Reese’s turn to question the officer.

  He stands up and approaches the stand. “First, thank you for your service, Officer Marks. Our men in blue are underappreciated.”

  Officer Marks’ eyes light with appreciation. “It’s my honor to serve the fine citizens of New York City.”

  “How long have you been on the force?”

  “Twenty-one years,” the officer states.

  “Ask and answered previously,” the prosecutor yells out.

  “I have a short memory,” Reese replies, but he moves on.

  “How many death investigations, murder or otherwise, have you investigated?”

  “Fifty-one if you include non-criminal acts such as accidents and natural causes.”

  “That’s a large number,” Reese comments. “How many loved ones, spouses, daughters, sons, and significant family members and friends of those people did you interact with?”

  “Hundreds.”

  “Of those hundreds, how many were deeply connected to one of the deceased?” Reese asks.

  “All of them.”

  “How many of those people, when told they’d lost someone close to them, cried?” Reese asks.

  “Roughly seventy percent,” Officer Marks replies.

  “In other words, if you talked to three hundred people, at least ninety of them didn’t cry.”

  “Correct,” Officer Marks says.

  “Did you find this strange?” Reese asks.

  “Objection,” the prosecutor shouts. “Leading the witness and speculation.”

  “I’ll rephrase,” Reese says. “Is it true, officer, that you’ve been trained to observe and expect certain physiological reactions from individuals involved in death investigations?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many hours?”

  “It’s ongoing,” Officer Marks replies. “Hundreds of hours. Our training is constantly on repeat. It’s impossible to log the number of hours.”

  “Hundreds of hours,” Reese repeats. “And based on this training, what is a normal reaction to grief?”

  “There’s a wide range of normal reactions.”

  “Is it normal to cry?”

  “Yes,” Officer Marks replies.

  “Is it normal not to cry?” Reese asks.

  “Yes,” he answers again.

  “Why is this a normal reaction?”

  “Shock is a key factor,” Officer Marks explains. “They aren’t fully processing the death to be real. The body often shuts down to protect us from what we can’t handle. It’s survival.”

  “How many homicides have you investigated?” Reese asks.

  “Twenty.”

  “During those investigations, did you have close family members demonstrate this type of shock?”

  “Yes,” Officer Marks replies.

  “Of those people who went into shock and shut down, how many of those were guilty of the crimes?”

  “Ten percent.”

  “Ten percent. In other words, another ninety percent of those close to the victims who did not cry were not responsible for the homicide?”

  “Correct.”

  “How many of the people who cried when they were given news of the death were responsible for the homicides?”

  “I would say at least forty percent.”

  “Thank you,” Reese says. “I’m done with the witness.”

  Milton stands up. “Redirect, your honor?”

  The judge nods and Milton turns to the officer once more, “Did Ms. Warren give you any other reason, outside of her emotional withdrawal, to suspect her guilt?”

  “She was confused about where she’d been during certain hours,” Officer Marks states. “We needed a solid alibi and at the time she didn’t give me one.”

  The prosecutor sits down. Reese stands up. “Judge? Two more questions?”

  “One, counselor.”

  Reese doesn’t argue. He focuses on the officer. “Is it normal to be confused when you are in shock?” Reese asks.

  “Yes,” Officer Marks replies.

  I let out a breath. Reese nailed that witness and the morning passes with Reese wiping the floor with the prosecutor over and over. Finally, the last witness before the break: Martha. The secretary. She approaches the stand, a pretty brunette not much older than forty, if that. Milton, the prosecutor starts out hard and fast. “How long did you work for the deceased?”

  “Three years.”

  “How many times did you hear Ms. Warren say she hated her father in that time?”

  “At least half a dozen.”

  “When was the last time you heard Ms. Warren say that she hated her father?”

  “The day before Mr. Warren died,” Martha states.

  “Who was she speaking to?”

  “Him. She came to the office and shouted it at him.”

  “How did he react?” Wicker asks.

  “He shut his door. He didn’t come out for hours. That’s how he handled stress.”

&n
bsp; The softball questions that all aim to make Dana look like a spoiled brat go on for forty minutes. Finally, again, Reese approaches and he wastes no time digging in. “Did you ever sleep with Mr. Warren?”

  Her eyes go wide and Milton stands up. “Objection. Relevance?”

  Reese looks at him and arches a brow. “You don’t know what this witness having a personal relationship with the deceased has to do with this?”

  The judge gavels his desk to death. “Enough.”

  “Judge, I’ll get to the point quickly.”

  “You better,” he says.

  Reese refocuses on Martha. “Did you have a sexual relationship with the deceased, Mr. Warren?”

  “I did not,” she lies.

  “You do know you’re under oath, correct?” Reese asks.

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “Did you ever take intimate photos with the deceased without any clothes on?”

  Milton pops to his feet to object and the courtroom erupts in murmurs that has the judge pounding away again. “Recess until one-thirty, and counselors, to my office.”

  “Judge, I’d like to request the current witness return to the stand after recess.”

  “Granted.”

  I smile. She lied. That’s not good for the prosecutor. Reese walks back to his table and when his eyes find mine in the crowd, he doesn’t wink, but he doesn’t have to. I know my husband. He just got exactly what he wanted.

  ***

  Reese

  I walk into the judge’s chamber with Milton already up in arms. “What the hell was that, judge?” He looks at me. “What the hell was that?”

  “She lied.” I hand the judge the envelope Royce gave me. “That won’t be admissible into evidence, but she lied.”

  He opens it and looks inside, his expression tightening as he does. He looks at me. “How did you get this?”

  “Walker Security,” I say. “They frequently work with law enforcement and are highly respected.”