“I’ll meet you at the courthouse then,” Harlan asserted. “The girls were already planning to spend the afternoon with my mother.”
“Why?”
“They enjoy her company,” Harlan answered with a smirk, clearly knowing that wasn’t what he meant.
“Why would you come to the courthouse?”
“Because last night started off as one of the worst nights of my life and you drove me away from it. I owe you.”
“If you don’t show,” Dallas said, pulling the door open and gesturing for her to pass, “I won’t hold it against you. Last night I was doing my job.”
“Was that all it was?” she asked, winking and nibbling at her lip. “If so, you deserve a raise.”
“Yes, it was,” he stammered, not remembering a time he’d been so knocked off his center of gravity by a woman.
“I’m kidding.” She laughed a sweet breathy chuckle. “I meant what I said about that being just one night. I’m not looking for anyone in my life right now. You’re not my bodyguard, and you’re not anything else to me.”
“You’re a very unique woman, Harlan,” Dallas said as they walked down the steps toward the street. “I’m not sure I’ve met anyone quite like you before.”
“Trust me you haven’t.”
Chapter 7
“You actually showed,” Dallas said, looking up from his cell phone as Harlan crossed the long corridor toward him. “You didn’t have to.”
“You said that already,” she sighed, touching his arm gently and smiling up at him. “But who’s going to keep you from going all homicidal maniac if this doesn’t go your way?”
“Are you implying you could stop me?” he asked, looking down at her tiny frame. “Not unless you have some grenades in your purse.”
“I’m scrappy,” Harlan teased, balling her hands into fists and pretending to prepare for a fight. “Don’t underestimate me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dallas insisted, and she knew coming had been the right choice as she saw a bit of worry slide off his face when he smiled.
“Dallas, I think you should stay out here,” a mousy looking woman in an ill-fitting pantsuit said as she propped a hand on her hip. Her hair was pinned back with random clips that were hardly doing their job. “Emotional outbursts won’t help Tim’s future court appearances.”
“Melissa, please stop talking like we’ve already lost this one. Tim deserves a new trial.” Dallas checked his watch for the hundredth time.
Melissa shook her head in agreement, but her expression didn’t match. There was a clear sense of defeat around the edges of her makeup-free eyes. “I agree that he deserves a new trial, but proving inadequate representation is difficult. Especially in front of the judge we’ve got today.”
“Hello,” Harlan said sweetly, trying to break the tension. “I’m Dallas’s friend Harlan. He’s had a lot of great things to say about you, Melissa.”
“What?” she asked, her frizzy hair bouncing as she spoke. “I’m sorry, you said your name was what?”
“Harlan,” she said, plastering on the same smile. “Weird name I know. I hope things go well for you in there today.”
“Is this some kind of a joke?” Melissa asked, looking distrustfully at Dallas.
“No,” Dallas defended. “She’s a friend of mine, and she offered to come today. It’s not a joke.”
“Because for as long as I’ve been involved in Tim’s case,” Melissa started, “you’ve been essentially on your own. I haven’t so much as seen you grunt at another human being, let alone call someone a friend.”
“Shouldn’t we go in?” Dallas asked, changing the subject with absolutely no finesse.
“We can,” Mellissa shrugged, her eyes fixed on Dallas, “as long as you are sure you can keep it together no matter how the judge rules today. No outbursts.”
“I’m fine,” he said, straightening his back. “I’m an adult. I can control myself.”
Harlan had the urge to slip her hand in his, to let him know she was there and he wasn’t alone. Instead, she reached up and touched the back of his arm, just for a moment.
“You sure you’ve got this under control?” Harlan asked quietly as they stepped into the courtroom and took a seat a row behind the defendant’s table. The rigid wood bench was anything but welcoming. A reminder that this room held little comfort for anyone. Either you were rooting for justice or hoping for a miracle. Either way you had a fifty percent chance of getting your heart broken.
Harlan could see only the shaggy hair and orange jumpsuit of a man she presumed was Tim.
Dallas cleared his throat loudly and Tim turned halfway around. Harlan caught the edges of his profile, and her heart melted as a small nod passed between the two men.
The courtroom was all wood and high ceilings, and Harlan wondered how long it would be before she and Rylie would be back in a place like this. The divorce had been anything but smooth so far and the idea of having to battle him for years to come ripped at her.
As the hearing began Harlan could feel the tension rise in Dallas, whose arm was pressed against hers. His breath was rigid, and he had to keep swallowing back the words he wanted to interject. But he stayed contained.
“With the information provided today and the testimony yesterday the court does not feel Mr. Andrews’s sixth amendment rights to a fair trial were violated. The principle standard is to determine whether the lawyer's conduct so undermined the functioning of the judicial process that the trial could not be relied upon as producing a just result. Though some of the original defense may have been compromised in some way due to a medical condition of the attorney, there is no substantial evidence that the outcome of the trial would have been impacted.”
“No,” Dallas hissed through his gritted teeth, “the guy fell asleep during part of the trial.” His voice was growing louder but stopped suddenly when Harlan laced her fingers into his. He clamped tight around her hand and drew in a deep breath.
“Let Melissa handle it,” she whispered back. “There is more you can do. But not right now.”
“Damn right there is more I can do,” Dallas grunted. “This is insane. There’s evidence out there that hasn’t been explored. Why isn’t she bringing that up?”
“There are multiple reasons you can appeal, but they all have their own process. She’s hedging her bets. This was the weakest appeal opportunity. The odds of winning an appeal on the grounds of a bad lawyer are low. Courts lean toward the fact that any given lawyer's conduct falls within the range of reasonable professional assistance.”
The gavel cracked down a few moments later, and Tim was escorted by bailiffs from the courtroom. Melissa gathered up her paperwork and moved quickly toward them, almost anticipating the need to move Dallas into the hallway.
“What about the evidence, the things I’ve told you? Why didn’t you bring those up?” Dallas looked ready to pounce, to call everyone back in and force them to hear him out.
“We’ll get there,” Melissa said, raising a cautionary hand. “There’s a process to all of this. It won’t move as quickly as you’d like, but we are moving forward. The examples you’re calling evidence may not even be admissible in court, let alone meet the standard required for a new trial to be granted.”
“Can I see him?” Dallas asked, watching his friend disappear through a side door in the corner of the courtroom.
“I’m going back to see him in a few minutes. They won’t let you back. But I’ll tell him you were here and when he’s back at the prison you’ll be sure to set up a visit.” Melissa’s nostrils were flaring now as she checked her watch. “Take him home,” she instructed, eyeing Harlan knowingly.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out today,” Harlan offered, but it fell miles flat against the disappointed faces of Melissa and Dallas.
When Melissa turned and walked away without a goodbye, Harlan could sense the tension between them wasn’t based on anything besides frustration for lack of progress. Both seem
ed passionate about finding the truth but didn’t agree on how to do it.
“What kind of evidence have you gathered?” Harlan asked as she practically ran to keep up with Dallas.
“It’s complicated,” he grunted, not sparing her a glance as he plowed forward.
“Try me,” she challenged. “Maybe some fresh eyes could help. I’m good at this kind of stuff.”
“You’re good at proving a man innocent of murder?” Dallas asked, his anger channeled at her. Expected and easy to forgive.
“I’m better than no one. I’m better than going home and staring at the same stack of papers, waiting for something new to pop out. Plus, I make a great ham and cheese sandwich.”
“What about your girls?” Dallas asked, his rigid stance softening some as though he were warming to the idea.
“I’m going to get them at my mother’s house soon. She’s got a great study. We can set up in the house while the girls play. They’ll be glad to stay longer.”
“Ham and cheese?” he asked, mock intrigue lighting his face.
“Yep, I’ll even cut the crust off if you say the magic words.” She winked as she turned and kept walking.
“This almost one-night stand is dragging out longer than you said,” Dallas joked with a raspy laugh. Flashes of last night’s fleeting passion rippled over her body as he said the words, and she could tell it showed on her face. His eyes were raking over her and a flush filled her cheeks.
“Never mind,” she replied, pursing her lips. “You’ll have to cut the crust off yourself.”
Chapter 8
Dallas knew the Kallings were wealthy. He imagined them as well off enough to eat at fancy restaurants and upgrade their cars whenever they pleased. But it wasn’t until he and Harlan pulled up to the family home that he realized they were a whole different level of rich. An empire. Billionaires.
“Nice place,” he chuckled as they stepped out of the car. “Why in the hell would your brother enlist in the military if he had a place like this?”
“Emmitt was lost most of his life. It was one arrest after another. The family name got him off a few times, but eventually he knew he’d die if he stayed around here much longer. Or my mother would die of shame. She takes reputation very seriously. My father had already damaged it; Emmitt was making it worse. You seem to forget money doesn’t solve all your problems.”
“Right,” Dallas replied, sounding unconvinced. His father had been a very wealthy man. A media mogul who struck it rich by discovering a few actresses who stayed loyal to him during their careers. The only problem was, his mother, Mary Sue, wasn’t cut out for the life of the rich and famous, opting instead to live pay check to pay check with her three sons in South Boston. And his dad never looked back.
“I meant to warn you about my mother,” Harlan said sheepishly enough to worry Dallas for a moment until he remembered.
“I’ve read the bio on every member of the family,” he reassured. “I know your mother has OCD. Some of her triggers include people wearing red and the volume on the television being set at a level that bothers her. I’ll be honest, I don’t have much experience with it, but I read a little on the diagnosis. I’ll be as sensitive as possible.”
“Right,” Harlan said, looking at first relieved and then annoyed. “You have a bio on everyone in the family? Even me?”
“Especially you,” he grinned. “Yours was eight pages long if I remember. Your brothers put it together and no detail was spared. Favorite color, allergies, where you spent your summers as a child. That birthmark on your lower back, kind of over to the left.”
“They put that in there?”
“No,” he laughed. “I saw that for myself last night when you took your dress off.”
Harlan’s mouth snapped shut as she fought a smile and pushed her way through the front door.
“Girls,” she called happily down the hall. “I’m back.”
Thundering feet came pounding down the long curved staircase. There were only two, but the way they rushed forward created a blur of pigtails and rosy cheeks. Dallas had been shadowing Harlan and her daughters for nearly a week before she knew he’d been hired. It was a delicate balance, trying to keep them safe without intruding on the tiny simple moments that make up life. He’d watched her carry all their dance gear to the car and load them all in, never complaining. One daughter needed a boo-boo kissed while the other got her hair braided. His own mother had been a saint, but he’d been too young and dumb to appreciate what it took to raise children alone. There seemed so little of Harlan left when she was done giving herself away.
“Anna and Logan, this is Dallas,” Harlan explained as she squeezed the girls tightly in her arms. “He’s going to be doing some work with Mom for a little while in the study if you girls want to stay here a while longer.”
They cheered and squealed as they argued over who would get the next turn playing with grandma’s jewelry.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Dallas said, crouching to their level. “Your mom tells me you are both very nice girls.”
“Are you mom’s boyfriend?” Anna asked as casually as someone might inquire about the time of day. As though the answer would be as finite and as simple as letting her know it was three o’clock.
“Anna,” Harlan scolded, giving her a very serious look. “I’ve asked you not to ask that of every man we come across. Remember when you asked Mr. Lonson at the grocery store? His wife wasn’t too happy about that.”
Dallas couldn’t hold back his laugh. “I’m just a friend of your mom. She’s helping me with something important. It’s a big job.”
“My mom doesn’t do that,” Logan said in her squeaky little voice as she furrowed her brows. “She doesn’t do work.”
Harlan stuffed back any evidence that the words wounded her. Like a good mother she smiled and brushed back her daughter’s wispy bangs.
“I don’t know,” Dallas said thoughtfully. “Does your mom make ham and cheese sandwiches? Does she drive you around? Give you a bath? Tuck you in? Read you stories? Does she play with you and teach you things? Those sound like pretty important jobs. And she’s going to help me do some police work tonight. I don’t know what I’d do if she wasn’t here to work with me.”
“Really?” Anna asked, looking impressed at her mother’s responsibilities for the night.
“Yes,” Dallas reiterated, “you’re lucky to have her, and tonight I am too.”
“You guys go and play. Tell Grandma I’ll be upstairs to see her soon. I’ll bring up sandwiches.”
The girls planted kisses on her cheek and scuttled off as fast as they’d arrived.
“You didn’t have to say all that,” Harlan offered quietly. “Kids don’t ever really appreciate all that small stuff we do.”
“They don’t,” Dallas agreed. “I know I didn’t. I wish I had. I didn’t get to say it to my mother, but I’m glad you heard it. You have the means to never have to really lift a finger for them, but you do it all. I know you aren’t happy I was assigned to you without you knowing I was there. That can’t be very comfortable for you. But know that when I was on duty, it was refreshing to see your relationship with your daughters. You’re doing a great job.”
Tears filled Harlan’s eyes alarmingly fast, unsettling them both. “I . . . um, thanks,” she stuttered out as she whipped at her eyes. “They make it easy. They’re such good girls.”
“Do I get the crust cut off my sandwich again?” Dallas teased, trying to add some levity to the heavy moment.
“We’ll see,” she said, waving him to follow her into the study. “I apparently have some very serious police work to do first. Where do we even start?”
“Where do you want to start?” He shrugged. “You’re the fresh eyes. Maybe it’s better for you to take this where you want.”
“Tell me again who you wanted to kill,” she said as they sunk into the plush leather chairs separated by a small glass table with intricate metal woven around the legs. The room
was dim, but intentionally so. The shades were tightly shut, and the wood on the desk and bookcases was all deep mahogany. A few small lamps sat in the corners of the room but provided very little light.
“Larry Monroe,” Dallas said, knowing his entire demeanor changed as he uttered the familiar name. A sour taste filled his mouth as he thought through the damage one idiot could do.
“Who is he?”
“The one witness who testified against Tim. He’s a guy who’s done his share of petty crimes and pointed the finger at Tim. The police had tunnel vision and never chased down any other leads. Larry had been picked up about a month and a half after the murder. He’d been caught breaking and entering some pawnshop. Apparently he told the arresting officer he knew where the body of a restaurant owner, Angus Durrah, was and who’d killed him.”
“That’s pretty convenient.”
“At that point Angus was just some missing person case sitting in a file somewhere. His wife had reported him missing the night he didn’t come home from closing the restaurant. Monroe led them to the body and told them Tim had killed him.”
“That can’t possibly be enough to convict someone,” Harlan said with wide disbelieving eyes. “That’s just hearsay isn’t it? There must have been more to it.”
“The case was weak,” Dallas said, raising his voice defensively. “There were no forensics linking Tim to the scene, no other witnesses, no one else saying they heard Tim talking about committing a murder. It was Larry spinning some story, and they were desperate to close the case. They took him at his word.”
“Where was Tim that night?” Harlan asked hesitantly, and Dallas could hardly blame her. If he didn’t know Tim so well it would be hard to believe someone could be put away for life if they were truly innocent.
“Tell me where you were the first Tuesday of this month in the afternoon,” Dallas challenged. “You can look at your phone, check your calendar on it. Whatever you need to do. Where were you?”
“Um,” Harlan said, pulling out her phone. “Well, on Tuesday we have dance class for Anna after school.”
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