by Marie Force
Tom sat down next to Michael. “What’s wrong?”
“She can tie Escalada to the trial.”
“What?” Tom gasped. “How?”
“Do you remember the day I finally asked for police protection because someone on the street gave my roommate the creeps?”
Tom’s eyes widened. “Escalada?”
Michael nodded. “When she saw the videotape from the hotel on the news, she recognized him. She saw him in Newport, too. He was trailing us, apparently waiting for an opportunity to take me out.”
Tom rubbed his face as he processed it all. “Who else knows this?”
“No one.”
“Except Escalada. He knows she can tie him to the trial.”
The gravity of that statement hung in the air between the two men.
“What do I do, Tom?” Michael asked with desperation. “I wanted to bring her to court with me this morning so I didn’t have to leave her at home alone.”
“Her detail is with her, and everyone’s on highest alert. I wish I could tell you not to worry…”
“If anything happens to her, Tom, I swear to God, if anything happens to her…” Michael’s voice broke.
Tom put a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “She’s more than your roommate, isn’t she?”
“If I get very lucky, she’s going to be my wife.”
“Is she the reason you and Paige broke up?”
Michael shook his head. “I know you’ll find it hard to believe, but this happened after that was over. The timing could’ve been better, but timing is secondary when the right one comes along.”
Tom studied him for a minute. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Don’t tell anyone about this. No one. We’ll only involve her if there’s no other option. We’ll figure this out after the trial is over. Until then, I want her at home.”
Michael shook his head. “She’ll never go for that. Her job is too important to her, and she needs the money. But how can I let her go to work and take care of her mother when they’ve got someone out there watching her? Waiting for an opportunity to kill her? How can I do that, Tom?”
“We’ll double her detail—and yours. We’ll get a home health aide for the mother so Juliana only has to go to work.”
“We doubled Rachelle’s detail, and look what happened to her.”
“We’ll do our very best to keep her safe, Michael. I promise.”
Michael wanted guarantees his boss couldn’t offer. “Okay,” he said, wishing he could be with her every minute to ensure her safety himself.
“It’s almost over, Michael. Stay tough and stay focused.”
“Have you ever had a case like this one before?”
“Not in this lifetime.”
The jury filed in, and once they were settled, Judge Stein apologized for the lengthy delay in the trial. “We appreciate your patience and your sacrifice,” he said. “Mr. Maguire?”
Michael stood up. “Your honor, the prosecution would like to introduce as evidence the video testimony of Rachelle Griffith.”
“Objection,” a defense attorney said.
“Overruled. Please proceed, Mr. Maguire.”
Michael used a remote to start the video. Watching Rachelle’s animated face was like a punch to his gut as he wondered if the attack would permanently snuff out her sparkle. With the judge’s warning in mind, he fought to keep his emotions off his face to avoid giving the jury any hint of what happened to her. They were going to have to draw their own conclusions as to why the witness was appearing on tape rather than in person. That, coupled with the timing of the lengthy recess right when the prosecution’s star witness was due to testify, was exactly why the defense requested the mistrial.
The tape was made about two months earlier when Michael brought her to a courtroom to prepare her for the real thing. Remembering her begging him to take her to McDonald’s on the way back to the hotel, he was so glad he had given in despite his worries about her safety. She had been delighted to share a table with him in the restaurant while the police detail surrounded them at other tables.
Off camera, he could be heard asking the questions that guided her through the telling of her story. As he watched her talk, he could see her affection for him in her eyes and hear it in the tone of her voice. It was something he missed the first time around when he had been engrossed in the asking of questions. Only a man who was blind, deaf, and dumb could have missed the enormous crush she had on him, but sitting in the courtroom fighting to keep his face devoid of emotion, he hurt all the way down to his bones over how totally he let her down by failing to adequately protect her.
He glanced at the defense table to find Marco Benedetti’s black eyes fixed on him. At just twenty years old, Marco had the eyes of a hardened criminal. Steven, a year older than his brother, had been charged with murder once before but was acquitted. Michael didn’t believe for a minute that he was innocent of the earlier murder. With juvenile rap sheets a mile long, the shootings elevated the brothers’ pattern of petty crime from misdemeanors to multiple felonies.
Marco’s greasy hair was slicked back, and when his face contorted into a small, evil smile, it took every ounce of control Michael had to remain seated when all he wanted was smash that smile off his smug fucking face. Michael looked around, hoping someone else had seen Benedetti’s smile, but the entire courtroom was riveted to the television.
I promise you, Rachelle. I promise they won’t get away with it. A fierce burst of rage coursed through Michael. He was so consumed by it he failed to notice the videotape had ended or that the jurors were deeply moved by it.
“Mr. Maguire?” Judge Stein said.
Michael didn’t move.
“Mr. Maguire!”
Slowly, Michael rose to his feet. “Your honor, the prosecution rests.”
At home, Juliana sat on Michael’s bed folding laundry. He had called and outlined the plan he and Tom worked out. She wasn’t at all confident that her mother would accept the help of a home health aide, but she wouldn’t have much choice. It was that or nothing since there was no way Juliana could call on Vincent again.
She had been relieved to hear that she would be able to continue working. Money was always an issue for her, and despite offers of help from both Michael and Jeremy, she didn’t feel right taking money from either of them.
Thinking of Michael playing the video of Rachelle if the judge allowed it, Juliana couldn’t imagine how hard it would be for him after seeing her so diminished in the hospital. Putting away clothes in his dresser, Juliana found her rent check sitting on top of it and realized he never cashed it. Her heart contracted with overwhelming love for him. He loved her in such an all-consuming way, and he was going to need her to love him just as much tonight after having to sit through that video.
A thump on the roof startled her out of her thoughts. The wind was whipping, and Michael mentioned the night before that he needed to bring the furniture in off the deck for the winter. A second thump convinced Juliana that one of the lounge chairs on the roof deck had blown over. She deactivated the alarm and went out through the sliding door to investigate. Taking the stairs to the roof deck, she stopped short when all the oxygen left her body in one big whoosh.
“Don’t you dare scream,” Roberto Escalada said in a low, sinister tone. “If you scream, you’re dead. You got me?”
Juliana nodded as terror rippled through her and robbed her of the ability to breathe, let alone scream. She couldn’t have made a sound just then even to save her own life, which was suddenly in grave danger.
“Turn around and go back down.”
Juliana couldn’t seem to make her legs move.
“Now!”
She turned and on shaking legs went down to the lower deck and opened the door to Michael’s bedroom.
Escalada followed her inside and slid the door closed behind him. “I thought you and lover boy were never going to come home from wherever they had you stashed.”
Juliana sat on
the edge of the bed and willed herself to keep breathing as she trembled uncontrollably.
He took a look around the room. “So this is where it all happens, huh? I bet you give it up to that motherfucker Maguire every night, don’t you? You look like the kind of girl who likes to get it on.” He came over to stand in front of her and leaned down so close she felt his breath on her neck. “Maybe I should have me a taste of what he’s been getting.”
“No,” Juliana whimpered. “Don’t touch me.”
“Now that’s not very friendly, Juliana, and we’re old friends, aren’t we?” He ran a finger along her neck and jaw. “Is that any way to treat a guest?”
She moved away from him, and he grabbed her arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“There are cops everywhere,” she whispered.
He laughed. “Cops haven’t stopped me so far, have they? Believe me, I’d love nothing more than to be halfway across the country by now, but it occurred to me I’d left behind a juicy loose end here in Maryland. You know I can’t have you linking me to the trial, Juliana. My clients wouldn’t appreciate that.”
Juliana began to cry as she struggled against the iron grip he had on her arm.
He smacked her hard across the face. “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!”
Falling back on the bed, Juliana saw stars and was too stunned to cry or even scream as he paced the room. When the haze of fear cleared a bit, she realized the cops wouldn’t be checking on her again for close to an hour. If she was going to get out of this, she was going to have to do it on her own.
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
He looked her over to see if she was up to something before he gestured for her to go ahead. “Hurry up, and no bullshit. I want to get this over with and get the fuck out of here. Leave the door open.”
Her face throbbing from where he’d hit her, Juliana did as she was told. It took all her fortitude to get through the motions of going to the bathroom. She was terrified he would take advantage of her half-dressed state to make good on his threat to rape her, but this was her only chance to save herself.
Slowly, so she wouldn’t attract his attention, she reached up to the tiny cabinet above the toilet paper roll. She remembered Michael laughing when he showed her the phone the previous owner installed in this and every bathroom in the house. Relying only on her sense of touch, she lifted the receiver and dialed 911.
Hearing the operator say, “911, please state your emergency,” she put the phone down and flushed the toilet. With adrenaline coursing through her, she pulled her pants back up and willed her shaking hands to button them. Only when she had her clothes back in place was she able to breathe again.
“What the fuck are you doing in there?”
“I’m coming.” She forced her trembling legs to move and prayed to God the 911 operator had done her job and notified the police.
Escalada grabbed her.
She whimpered at the feel of a cold metal edge resting against her throat.
He ground his erection into her back. “Mmm, mmm, mmm, I sure do wish I had time to have me some of you,” he growled against her ear. “Your boyfriend’s going to come home to a big mess tonight. No more saucy piece of ass for him.”
“Freeze!”
Juliana shifted her eyes to find three cops in the doorway with their guns drawn.
Escalada tightened his hold on Juliana. He backed them up to the sliding door and opened it with his free hand.
She felt a burning sensation against her neck and realized he had cut her.
“Let her go, Escalada,” one of the cops ordered.
He dragged her outside to the lower deck.
The cops followed them.
Her shirt became wet as a warm, sticky trail of blood accumulated in a pool at her collarbone. The combination of the cold and the fear had Juliana shaking even as she fought to remain still against the knife.
“Let her go!” the cops ordered again.
“Back off or I swear to God, I’ll kill her!”
A shot rang out, and Juliana screamed when Escalada slumped over her, knocking her down as the knife fell from his hand and clattered onto the wood deck.
He landed on top of her.
Shrieking, she clawed at him.
The cops moved quickly to free her. One of them gathered her into his arms and carried her inside while another radioed for paramedics.
“It’s okay, Juliana. We got him. You’re safe.”
She slumped against him and lost consciousness.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Michael was having lunch with his colleagues at a deli across the street from the courthouse when Officer John Tanner rushed over to tell him that a 911 call had been made from his house.
He jumped up. “Juliana,” he gasped, running with Tanner from the restaurant to a cruiser outside. “What happened? Is she all right?”
“We don’t know yet. All I know is there was a call, but the caller didn’t say anything. Her detail was going in when I came to get you.”
Michael got into the car with John who flipped on the siren to make a path through heavy midday traffic. During the interminable ride, they heard snippets over the police radio that had Michael paralyzed with fear: gunshots reported on Chester Street, a call for paramedics, two victims.
Oh God, please. Please.
John’s cell phone rang with a call from a member of Juliana’s detail asking if he had Michael. “We’re on our way to the scene,” John replied. He was told Juliana was being taken to Hopkins.
“How bad it is?” Michael urged John to ask.
“They don’t think it’s life-threatening.”
Michael sagged into the seat, his stomach roiling with nausea. They don’t think it’s life threatening. That meant they didn’t know for sure. Please, God. Please don’t let her die.
They arrived at the hospital at the same time as the ambulance. Michael was out of the car before it stopped. He raced over to the ambulance and for a second time fought the urge to pass out at the sight of a ghostly pale Juliana covered in blood. This time, though, she was unconscious, and the cut on her neck was still bleeding profusely. There was something else all over her that looked an awful lot like brain matter.
“Oh,” he whispered. “Oh, God.”
John pulled Michael back so the paramedics could get her inside. They hustled her down the hall and into one of the trauma rooms. The nurses stopped Michael outside the door.
“What the hell happened?” he screamed when two of the cops from Juliana’s detail rushed into the hallway.
“Escalada. We figure he came down from the roof deck. It’s close enough to the house next door that he could’ve jumped.”
“But the alarm was on,” Michael said. “How did he get in? How did he get to her?”
“The alarm was off.”
Michael shook his head. “No way. She wouldn’t have shut it off.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Maguire. I don’t know what to say. It was off when we went in after the 911 call. Somehow she managed to get to a phone. There’s no doubt that saved her life.”
Based on what Michael saw a minute ago, he had considerable reason to wonder if her life had in fact been saved. He sat down hard in a chair in the hallway. “Where is he now? Escalada?”
“He’s dead. One of our guys got off a shot from the roof next door.”
Michael felt a brief moment of relief at that news. At least their other problem had been solved. “Where was Juliana when they shot him?”
The cop looked down at the floor, his face tight with tension.
“Where was she?”
“He had her, with a knife to her throat. That’s how she got cut.”
“Oh my God.” Michael put his head down to stop the rush of nausea that struck when he realized how easily the cop could have missed Escalada and hit her instead, or even both of them. Michael kept his head down and prayed like he never had in his life. Even when Tom Houlihan came in
and sat next to him, Michael kept his head in his hands and never stopped praying.
“Should you call her family, Michael?” Houlihan asked.
Michael shook his head and ran a trembling hand through his hair. “She wouldn’t want them here. You’ve got to keep her name out of the reports, Tom.”
“It’s already taken care of.”
After what seemed like hours to Michael, a doctor finally emerged from the room where Juliana was being treated. Michael jumped up.
“Are you with her?” the doctor asked.
Without hesitation, Michael said, “She’s my fiancée.”
“We’ve got the bleeding stopped, and I’ve called in a plastic surgeon to suture her.”
“She’ll be all right?” That was the only thing the doctor failed to say and the only thing Michael needed to hear.
“She lost quite a bit of blood, but she should be fine in a day or two. One millimeter deeper and we’d be telling a different story. She got very lucky.”
Tom shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you.”
When his legs failed him, Michael sank down to the chair.
Juliana opened her eyes in the dark room and tried to figure out what was pinching her finger. She raised it to discover a medical device clipped to it, and realized she was in the hospital. Attempting to turn her head, she winced when the wound on her neck burned in protest.
Michael’s head rested on the hospital bed next to her arm. She raised her hand to run her fingers through his hair.
His head whipped up. “Juliana… Oh God…”
Juliana held out her arms to him, and he crawled right up onto the bed to hold her as deep sobs shook both of them.
“Are you all right, baby?” he asked when he could finally speak again. Running his hand over the bruise on her face, he brushed back her hair. “Does anything hurt?”
She tried to shake her head and winced.
“Don’t move your head.” He kissed her cheek, her lips, and her neck, just above the large white bandage that covered the wound. “Thank God you’re all right.”