“Does that mean the victory will be sweeter if I tell you that you’ll probably lose?”
She considered. “Maybe. But then I would feel crappy now.”
“Wouldn’t want that.”
“So why don’t we just hold back on our predictions and wait patiently?”
He nodded. “I can do that.”
“Good.”
Leary’s expression turned serious. “Did you mean everything you said in there? About marrying me?”
Jessie nodded. “Every word.”
“So you’re ready? No more hesitation?”
“I’ve been ready, Mark. Maybe I didn’t show it. Maybe I wasn’t even aware of how ready I was. But I’ve been ready since the moment you got down on one knee.”
“Well, maybe we can’t celebrate your courtroom victory yet, but we can celebrate that.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Why don’t we go home? I’m sure we’ll think of something.”
Jessie laughed. “Sounds good.”
They started to head for the elevator, when someone grabbed Jessie’s arm. It was one of the deputy sheriffs from Judge Carabotta’s courtroom. “Excuse me, Ms. Black. The lawyers are being called back into the courtroom.”
Jessie felt a jolt of surprise. “Is something wrong?”
“Jury has a verdict.”
“Already?” She shot Leary a look.
The deputy shrugged. “Judge wants everyone back inside now.”
Jessie felt a gnawing sensation in her stomach as she and Leary followed him back to the courtroom. A fast verdict meant the jurors probably had not reviewed all of the evidence carefully, had not weighed the facts against the legal standards, and had, instead, simply acted on instinct.
Leary touched her hand as they walked. “That was fast,” he said.
“Too fast.” They headed into the courtroom to hear the verdict.
43
A wave of people had just made their way out of the crowded courtroom. Now they hurried back to the courtroom to reclaim their seats. Jessie found herself swept up in the rush of bodies funneling through the doorway. Reporters, lawyers, spectators. She heard excited babble, breathy predictions. Then she was through the door.
The crowd swarmed the benches of the gallery. Jessie headed through the bar and into well of the courtroom. Hal and Kristina Nolan already stood at the defense table. They both looked at her, neither making much effort to hide a nervous expression. Jessie knew she probably had a similar expression on her own face. None of them knew what the near-instant timing of the verdict meant, but it was unusual enough to make them all uneasy.
“Do you know what’s going on?” Hal said.
“Only what you know,” Jessie said. “The jury has a verdict.”
Kristina looked at her watch. “Did they even have time to talk in there?”
The buzz of the courtroom suddenly silenced, and the air seemed to fill with tension. Jessie turned and saw two sheriff’s deputies bring Hazenberg into the courtroom. The man looked as confused as she felt—apparently, he had expected a longer deliberation, too.
When the deputies deposited him at the defense table, he whispered something to Hal and Kristina. Jessie could not hear him from the prosecution table, but he looked angry. She couldn’t hear Hal’s or Kristina’s responses either. Whatever they told him only seemed to make him more furious. He glared across the aisle at Jessie, rage flashing in his eyes.
He thinks he’s going to lose, she thought. She wished she were equally confident in a guilty verdict, but she had butterflies in her stomach.
Judge Carabotta swept into the room with her black robe billowing behind her like a cape. She took her seat at the bench as Jessie, Hal, Kristina, and Hazenberg rose from their chairs.
“Welcome back,” the judge said. “I understand the jury has reached a verdict. I’m going to call them into the courtroom now.” She nodded to one of the deputies, who spoke quietly into his shoulder mic.
The door at the back of the courtroom opened, and another deputy sheriff led the jurors into the room. They filed carefully to their assigned seats in the jury box, a process which to Jessie felt like it took an eternity. She strained to read their expressions, but she could glean nothing. Her gaze swung to the jury foreperson, a retired high school science teacher named George Philips. He held a folded sheet of paper in his hand. Jessie held her breath.
“Mister jury foreman,” Judge Carabotta intoned, “has the jury reached a verdict?”
“Yes, Your Honor. We have.” He held out the piece of paper. It was passed to the judge, who read it over and then handed it to her clerk. The clerk read the sheet, then looked expectantly at the judge.
“Go ahead,” the judge said.
The clerk cleared her throat. “In the case of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania versus Oscar Hazenberg for the unlawful death of Kent Edley in violation of Penal Code Section 2502(a), we, the jury, find the defendant guilty of murder in the first degree.”
Jessie led out her pent-up breath. Her muscles relaxed. Her heart rate steadied. She had done it. Against all odds, she had won.
44
The clerk’s nasally voice echoed in Hal Nolan’s head. Guilty of murder in the first degree.
A second later, Hazenberg’s face was inches from his, and the man was practically hissing into his ear, asking how the hell Hal had let this happen, what kind of a useless idiot he was, and asking what he was going to do about it.
Hal put his head in his hands. Rubbed his temples.
This was the end. The end of the trial, the end of his law practice, quite possibly the end of his marriage. He had staked everything on winning an acquittal for Oscar Hazenberg, and he had failed.
“Are you fucking listening to me?” Hazenberg’s voice was a snarl. Flecks of spittle flew from his lips and struck the side of Hal’s face. “What are you doing? Going to your fucking safe space? Snap out of it and do something.”
“There’s nothing to do,” Hal snapped back. “Not right now.”
Smooth, soft fingers folded around his hand. Hal looked to his right, into his wife’s eyes. Their depths calmed him. “We’ll get through this, Hal. Together.”
Hazenberg snorted. He glared at them, face twisted with disgust. “Letting you two losers talk me into retaining you was the worst decision I ever made.”
“You sure about that?” Kristina said. As always, Hal found himself shocked by her fearlessness. She could look this murderer in the eye and challenge him, while Hal just wanted to go home and hide from the world.
Two deputy sheriffs materialized behind Hazenberg, ready to start a process that would end in a five-by-ten cell in a maximum-security state prison.
“Wait.” Hazenberg held up a hand, and the deputies paused. Hazenberg leaned toward his lawyers. “We’re going to appeal.” It wasn’t a question. It was an order.
This time, it was Kristina who snorted derisively. “We sure will. But for that, we’re going to need another retainer. A big one.”
“Are you mocking me, bitch?” Hazenberg stood from his chair, looming above her, but Kristina did not look intimidated. She rose smoothly from her own chair, her gaze locked with his.
Hal stood, too. “Okay,” he said lamely. He tugged at Kristina’s arm. He just wanted to get the hell out of there.
Hazenberg’s stare was fixed on Kristina. “You know what happens to people who disrespect me?”
“Yes, and that’s why you’re never going to see daylight again.”
“Let’s go, buddy” said one of the deputies standing at Hazenberg’s side.
Hazenberg flexed the fingers of his right hand. For a second, Hal thought the man might make a fist, but he didn’t. His hand flew to the deputy’s belt and clamped around the butt of the deputy’s gun. He tore the weapon from its holster. The deputy shouted a curse. The other deputy fumbled for his own gun.
Hazenberg hardly seemed to notice. His face was a mask of grim determination as he bro
ught the gun up and leveled the barrel at Kristina.
What happened next was a blur. As if from far away, Hal heard himself yell something—maybe it was “No!” or “Don’t!” or maybe it was just an incomprehensible shriek—and then he threw himself into the space between Hazenberg and Kristina.
There was a sound like dynamite exploding, and something slammed into Hal’s chest. He crashed into the side of the defense table, his legs gave way, and then he was sitting on the floor. He had time to think, Why am I sitting on the courtroom floor? And then a wave of pain turned his vision red. He heard yelling. He saw shoes and legs rushing all around him. He looked up and saw the two deputy sheriffs, his wife, and Hazenberg.
What the hell just happened?
And then a barrage of bullets knocked Hazenberg backward and sent him wheeling through the well of the courtroom. The left side of his face exploded in a burst of blood and bone. The sight slipped out of focus as Hal’s vision swam, but he saw the man fall backward. He heard his body thump the floor.
“You’re going to be okay, Hal.” Kristina’s voice. She was squatting beside him. Her face was painted with blood. My blood, he thought. My blood. “Hold on.” Her voice cracked, choked with emotion. “Please hold on, Hal.”
Hal tried to respond, but found he couldn’t speak. Even nodding his head was a challenge to which he couldn’t rise. His energy seeped away. And his mind felt like it was breaking apart.
His vision dimmed, and then went dark.
45
Normally a courtroom victory was followed by a celebration. Nothing elaborate—they were prosecutors and cops, after all, government employees on a budget—but a good time at a local bar was usually expected.
Not this time.
A lawyer had been shot. Right in the courtroom. Hal Nolan was now in the intensive care unit of the University of Pennsylvania Hospital, clinging to his life. His chances, as Jessie understood them, were not good.
So instead of a celebration, she sat in Warren Williams’s office, both of them unusually quiet and somber.
Hal Nolan was a defense attorney—the opposition—but he was also one of them. And no one would celebrate while he fought for his life.
Jessie had never been a big fan of these celebrations, anyway. To her, winning a murder trial was always a bittersweet experience. Yes, it meant she had overcome challenges and done her job well, upheld justice and made her city a safer place.
But none of that eased the pain of the survivors or undid the tragic loss of the victim’s life. In this case, Kent Edley was still dead, having never even reached the age of forty. Maxine Hazenberg had lost her lover and learned that her husband was a murderous monster. Becky Runyan had probably done permanent damage to her marriage. And Hal Nolan might not make it through the next few hours.
“I know you don’t want to hear this right now,” Warren said, “but you did great in there, Jessie. No one thought you could win this case. With Novak’s screw-up with the glove and Hazenberg’s confession to his wife being privileged, if you had worked out a halfway-decent plea deal I would have been happy. But you got a conviction. First-degree murder. Don’t think this victory won’t go unnoticed in the DA’s Office.”
“Hazenberg is dead,” Jessie said. “Is that a victory?”
“Not the one you wanted,” Warren said. He shrugged. “But the world’s a better place for it.”
“And Hal Nolan?”
“I checked in with the hospital a few minutes ago. He’s still in critical condition. The bullet did a lot of damage. Apparently, it tore through his right lung and lodged in his spine. The doctors think he has a chance, but….”
Jessie nodded and wiped her eyes. “A chance is better than nothing.”
“He saved Kristina Nolan’s life,” Warren said. “Pretty heroic.”
“Yeah.” Jessie paused for a moment. “I’m going to take a little time off, Warren.”
He looked surprised. “To process what happened in the courtroom? I know Hazenberg died right in front of you….”
“No, it’s not that. I’m getting married. I need to get ready.”
Warren seemed to watch her carefully.
“You probably don’t understand,” she said.
“I’m happy to give you the time off. As much as you need.” He looked at her and his frown changed to a smile, surprisingly warm. “Hey, I know you’ll be back.”
“You’re going to be there, right? The wedding?”
“Jessie, I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
46
Jessie had rehearsed this moment in her imagination more times than she could count, but that had not prepared her for the rush of emotions—strong and unexpected—hitting her with each step as her father walked her down the aisle.
She felt total warmth, vast optimism, pure love.
Mostly she felt happy. Unprecedentedly happy.
Mark Leary waited for her at the altar, flanked by the bridesmaids and groomsmen. Some of them were smiling. Some had tears in their eyes. Emily Graham caught her eye, grinned, and winked. Leary smiled, too, watching her with an expression of confident adoration that she knew she wanted to see for the rest of her life.
She walked past a host of familiar faces seated in the pews. Many of these faces belonged to people she had thought of as colleagues or coworkers, but now she realized they were more than that. They were friends. Jesus Rivera, the district attorney of Philadelphia. Warren Williams, the head of the DA’s Office Homicide Unit. Noah Snyder, a sometimes-ally, sometimes-opponent, had brought a date who looked twenty years younger than him and was dressed like a stripper. Jessie smiled at him as she passed, and he smirked back. Kristen Dillard was there, a witness and victim from the trial that had made her career and had almost cost her her life. Even Reggie Tuck, an incarcerated con artist with whom she’d been trapped in a courthouse for one harrowing day, had made it to the wedding on a special dispensation from prison. Not surprisingly, he wore a fancy tux that looked great on him. Toby Novak was there, and lots of other cops and prosecutors as well.
She passed her brother Alex with his wife Alice and their kids. The kids waved to her as she and her father walked past.
Jessie had never been super comfortable being the center of attention, but she allowed herself to enjoy the moment. These people were here because they cared about her. They were happy for her.
She reached the altar and her father stepped aside. Jessie took her place facing Leary. She looked into his blue eyes.
“Do you, Mark Leary, take this woman, Jessica Black, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
Leary smiled at her. “I do.” He pushed the wedding ring onto her finger.
“And do you, Jessica Black, take this man, Mark Leary, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
“I do.” Her hand was shaking as she tried to put the other ring on his finger. He steadied her hand, and the ring slid smoothly on.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
The room erupted with applause as Jessie and Leary sealed the moment with a kiss.
THE END
Thank you for reading Silenced Witness!
If you enjoyed the book, please post a review on Amazon and let everyone know. Your opinion will directly influence the success of the book. It doesn’t need to be an in-depth report—just a few sentences helps a lot. If you could take a few minutes to help spread the word, I would greatly appreciate it.
—Larry A. Winters
Books by Larry A. Winters
The Jessie Black Legal Thriller Series
Grave Testimony (prequel)
Burnout
Informant
Deadly Evidence
Fatal Defense
False Justice
> Silenced Witness
Also Featuring Jessie Black
Web of Lies
Other Books
Hardcore
About the Author
Larry A. Winters’s stories feature a rogue’s gallery of brilliant lawyers, avenging porn stars, determined cops, undercover FBI agents, and vicious bad guys of all sorts. When not writing, he can be found living a life of excitement. Not really, but he does know a good time when he sees one: reading a book by the fireplace on a cold evening, catching a rare movie night with his wife (when a friend or family member can be coerced into babysitting duty), smart TV dramas (and dumb TV comedies), vacations (those that involve reading on the beach, a lot of eating, and not a lot else), cardio on an elliptical trainer (generally beginning upon his return from said vacations, and quickly tapering off), video games (even though he stinks at them), and stockpiling gadgets (with a particular weakness for tablets and ereaders). He also has a healthy obsession with Star Wars.
www.larryawinters.com
Silenced Witness Page 19