“I’m listening,” Reese says.
“Fits of jealousy from Kelli. She also says that she heard the Wards arguing over Jennifer’s call the night she died. Nelson didn’t take that call. His wife did.”
“She’s on my witness list,” Reese says. “Will she say all of this on the stand?”
“Only if you make it looked forced and spontaneous,” Blake says. “She wants to protect Ward, but he’s protective of Kelli. She doesn’t want to end up fired. And she doesn’t want to communicate with you directly and risk upsetting Ward.”
“And you feel good about her?”
“Fuck yes,” Blake says. “I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t.”
“The spontaneous thing is a piece of cake,” Reese says. “I’ll make it happen. I’ll make her feel attacked even though she expects my questions.”
“When should she expect to be called?” Blake asks.
“Friday. And Friday, this ends. I’ll call her and then the wife right before I rest my case.”
Blake hands him an envelope. “She doesn’t know it, but I recorded her. Just to make you feel good about her testimony. If you have questions, pick up the fucking phone.” He leaves, and Reese and I head onward to the elevator.
A few minutes later, we step in the elevator, and it’s not long before we are sitting in front of that view in the chair in Reese’s bedroom, listening to the tape with takeout containers on the floor. “She’s going to be a huge asset,” I say, after the tape ends. “She’s loyal to Ward. She really thinks he’s a good man and she’s got a sweet voice, which helps.”
“If she goes right before Kelli, it’s a brutal set up.”
“With Kelli outside the courtroom, I assume?”
“Oh yeah. She can’t hear Geneva’s testimony.”
“Do you want me to publish my column asking ‘Who Killed Jennifer Wright?’ or does that alert Kelli, that she’s a target? I think it does and I have something else in mind for tomorrow that I’m kind of loving anyway.”
“If you love it, then let’s go with the something else. Let’s keep her feeling protected by her husband. That way when I come at her on the stand, she’s taken off guard.”
“Something else it is,” I say. “What about timing? Why Friday for closing and not tomorrow? You wanted to wrap this trial up without diluting Dan’s poor performance.”
“Everyone wants to go home on a Friday. It’s my way of discouraging long deliberation.”
“Which is why you said it ends Friday.”
“Yes. And then we know the end of the story.”
The end of the story.
Because every story ends.
I kill it in court Tuesday and Wednesday. The medical professionals I call tear down the prosecution. The prosecution tears down the prosecution. It’s hard to believe they were this unprepared, but what’s fucked up is that they could still win. People want justice, even if it’s bad justice. It’s these thoughts that I wake up to Thursday with only one day left before my closing, if all goes as planned. If I were perfect, I could be sure it would.
Cat rolls over toward me and blinks awake, her eyes a perfect summer green. Perfect. That’s what she called me last night, and that word hits ten kinds of triggers for me, of which I normally only have a few. “Perfect is a really hard fucking thing to live up to,” I say. “You know that, right?” I don’t give her time to answer. I roll out of the bed, walk to the bathroom, open the shower, and turn on the water. I step inside and under the hot spray, pressing my hands on the glass wall. Fuck. I hate when I get like this. I hate that she called me perfect. I hate that it reminds me of my father. Of my many confrontations with that man when I was a teen and he was sneaking in the door at three a.m. instead of me.
“You have a wife,” I’d remind him.
“You think you’re fucking perfect, don’t you?” he’d growl back at me.
Even then, at such a young age, I was a hell of a lot more perfect than him. He just couldn’t stop fucking around on my mother—which is one of those perfect secrets I haven’t told Cat. How can I? My father is a cheater. Her past is all about cheaters and overbearing assholes. He was that, too. I’d rather Cat call me an asshole than perfect. That way, I never disappoint her the way my dad disappointed my mother.
The shower door opens and Cat is suddenly between me and the wall, in front of me, and I swear the woman read my mind. “Asshole,” she says, and I’m instantly hard as fuck and ready to fuck. I cup her head and kiss the hell out of her, rolling one of those pretty pink nipples of hers in my fingers, but she pushes away from me, and holy hell, she’s on her knees and my cock is in her mouth.
She sucks me like she’s on life support and she needs this, when I’m the one who needs it. I need her. I’ve never needed like this, but I don’t fight it. That’s the thing. I have always known what I want, and I’ve never let any obstacle stop me from getting it. I’ve needed. I’ve taken. I’ve wanted but I don’t remember, out of any of my desires, dreams, and goals, wanting like I want this woman. She completes a circle that was always incomplete.
I watch her taking me in her mouth, licking me, and oh yeah, I feel her. I tell myself that if I were perfect, I wouldn’t come in her mouth. But I’m not perfect, and I do. I come the fuck in her mouth and she doesn’t care. I decide she’s the one who’s perfect. The kind of perfect a man marries and feels damn lucky he’s the guy who got her. Because he’s not perfect at all.
Flash forward, and I’m not in that shower anymore. I’m walking into the courthouse in my lucky suit, intent on ending this trial today, and I can still feel her mouth on my cock. I’m pretty sure that’s the luckiest feeling a man takes with him anywhere he goes. With that luck on my side, my first order of business is to confiscate a room and hold a short meeting with Elsa and Richard, where we recap our plan for court. “As we’ve discussed,” I say, “I’m going to call Geneva Marks first. Elsa will keep Kelli out of the courtroom on the pretense of prepping for her time on the stand.” I look at Richard. “You’ll bring Kelli in when I finish with Geneva.”
“Got it,” he says.
I glance between them both. “Let’s do this.”
I exit the room and cross the hall to the conference room where my client awaits, only to find Kelli sitting with her husband. Kelli is the star today though. She just doesn’t know it. She’s wearing a low-cut turquoise top, her fake but impressive breasts exposed. It’s a good choice for the day I put her on the stand. Of course, she thinks that she will be on the stand next week.
Nelson, on the other hand, looks reserved, and I set my briefcase on the table. Elsa and Richard join us and remain standing. I press my hands to the table.
“You’re up today, Kelli,” I say.
She sits up straight. “What? No. You said next week.”
“What’s going on, Reese?” Nelson asks, sounding concerned, and looking professional as always in a navy-blue suit and tie.
“To end this story,” I say, “I’m closing today.”
Nelson stands up. “Today?”
“Yes,” I say. “Today.”
“What about the character witnesses?” he asks.
“The prosecution has a bombshell waiting on us,” I say. “Let’s not keep hunting for it. Let’s get your wife on the stand and let’s get you back to your normal life.”
“You think we’re going to get an acquittal?” he asks.
“A jury is never a sure thing,” I say. “But in theory, we’ve proven reasonable doubt. Kelli can help seal the deal.”
“What are you going to ask me?” Kelli asks, standing now as well.
“Elsa is going to spend some time prepping you this morning,” I say, knowing very well that my questions won’t resemble Elsa’s, but that’s the plan. “You’ll be called midmorning, after which I’ll rest my case, and we’ll close this afternoon. Unless the judge decides closing will be Monday, which I doubt he will. He wants the jurors to go home, if they can go home.” I turn and
exit the room, and yes, I’m nervous. I’m always nervous for closing, my adrenaline pumping, and that’s a dangerous feeling that can be distracting if not reeled in.
Fifteen minutes later, I walk into the courtroom and, as always, my attention gravitates to Cat. I find her in her normal spot, her notebook in hand, her beautiful blonde hair pinned primly at her nape. And there is nothing hotter than a schoolteacher image in public who saves her wild side for me. Fuck. I’m crazy about this woman, and rather than distracting me, there is something about her being here that helps me center that adrenaline. It’s the damnedest thing.
I take my spot at the table, and it’s not long until Richard joins me and Dan appears at his table. Soon, the judge and jury are in place and the day is set to begin. I call Geneva Marks, Nelson’s secretary, a pretty thirty-something brunette dressed in a blue suit dress. She’s sworn in and states her name, and I start with softball questions.
“How long have your worked for Nelson Ward?”
“Five years.”
“How well do you know him?”
“I know more about him than probably even his wife.”
“Based on that statement, is he a man of honor?”
“Objection,” Dan shouts. “Leading.”
I rephrase. “What is your assessment of his character?”
“One of the best men I’ve ever known. Honest, kind, generous. Smart.”
“Have you ever witnessed him and his wife fighting?”
She inhales and lets it out. “Yes.”
“What about?”
“Me. She was jealous of me.”
“Does she have reason to be?”
“No. My relationship with Mr. Ward is completely professional, which is one of the things about him I respect. He would never, ever dream of cheating on his wife, or making a woman feel uncomfortable.”
“Did you hear them fight about Jennifer Wright?”
“Yes.”
“What was the context?”
“There was a call to Mr. Ward’s cellphone from Jennifer Wright the night she was murdered. He wanted his wife to admit to the police that she took the call, not him.”
There is a rumbling of voices in the courtroom that fades quickly, and you can almost feel the courtroom waiting for what comes next.
“What was Mrs. Ward’s response?” I ask.
“She said it would make her a suspect. She—”
“Objection!” Dan shouts, jumping to his feet. “Hearsay.”
“This is not hearsay,” I argue. “She was sitting outside the office and heard the conversation.”
“Overruled. Continue.”
I look at Geneva. “You were saying. She what?”
“She cried and accused Mr. Ward of not loving her if he wouldn’t protect her.”
“And how did Mr. Ward respond?”
“He proclaimed his love and promised to protect her.”
“Did either admit to murdering the victim?”
“No. I did not hear any admission of guilt.”
“At any time has Mr. Ward admitted to killing Jennifer Wright?”
“Not when I was present.”
“I’m done with the witness,” I say, walking back to my table and sitting down, while Dan stands.
Nelson leans into me and whispers, “What the hell are you doing?”
“My job,” I say, as Dan asks, “Ms. Marks, was the door open when you heard this conversation about the phone call between Nelson and Kelli Ward?”
“No,” she says.
“In other words, the conversation was muffled?”
“The walls are thin,” Geneva states. “I hear everything.”
“Is there any chance you might have overheard a portion of the conversation?” Dan presses.
“Unlikely.”
“Yes or no?”
“Ah—yes.”
“I’m done with the witness,” Dan states, walking back to his table.
Nelson grabs my arm and leans into me. “Leave it.”
I stand back up, forcing his hand from my arm. “Redirect, your honor?” Seeing the judge’s agreement, I press forward, “Ms. Marks, have you ever heard something through the walls and found it to be untrue later?”
“No, I have not.”
She’s dismissed, and I motion for Richard to retrieve Kelli. “Judge, we’re retrieving Kelli Ward, who will be our next witness.”
“Ask for a break,” Nelson orders.
I clench my teeth. I’m on a timeline I don’t want disrupted. I lean into him. “If we break and I don’t close today, we risk a long deliberation next week that’s not in your best interest.”
“I’m going to fire you if you continue on this path.”
“You won’t get that approved, but you’ll make yourself look guilty or make Kelli look guilty along with you. Do you really want to do that?”
He inhales sharply and settles back in his seat. I am smiling inside, though. That interaction was witnessed. He looked afraid, and not for himself. For his wife. He looks like a man protecting a guilty woman. I didn’t understand this kind of connection between two people before Cat. I do now. After only a few weeks, I’d do anything to protect Cat. The difference between me and Nelson is that, unlike Kelli, Cat is worth the battle.
Kelli takes the stand and is sworn in, completely unaware of the conversation I had with Geneva in this courtroom.
“Do you love your husband?” is my first question.
“Yes,” she says. “Of course.”
“Why?”
“He’s everything. Good looking, generous, kind,” she says. “He’s everything,” she repeats.
“How long have you been married?”
“Five years,” she states.
“The same amount of time Geneva Marks has been his secretary.”
“Objection,” Dan growls. “Is there a question?”
“How long has Geneva Marks been his secretary?”
“Since the week before we were married,” she says. “Five years.”
“Did you ever work for your husband’s companies?”
“Yes. I was a secretary to one of his partners in another building.”
“What do you do now?” I ask.
She frowns. “Why is this relevant?”
The prosecutor interjects, “Objection. She’s right. Why is this relevant?”
I look to Judge Moore, who is sixty, with a lifetime in the court, but he’s tough, and not always fair. “I’m on a path, judge. I’m getting there.”
“Get there quickly,” he states, looking at Kelli. “Answer the question.”
I nod. “What do you do now, Mrs. Ward?”
“I run our household,” she states. “My husband is a busy man. I look out for him.”
“In other words, your life is about your husband. You live for him.”
“Objection,” Dan shouts. “Leading, and again, where is this going?”
“I’ll move on,” I say. “As a secretary, would you say that a secretary knows the innermost workings of a busy man?”
“Yes. I would.”
“Including Geneva Marks, your husband’s secretary?”
“Yes. Including her.”
“Did you know Jennifer Wright?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“My husband saw her crying at a coffee shop he frequents. She worked there. He started talking to her daily for a few weeks. When she finally opened up about her situation, he talked to me, and asked my input. That’s when I suggested a better-paying job would work wonders for her, and I just happened to know about a friend looking for a nanny.”
“And that friend can confirm the interview was set up?”
“She can, yes.”
“Please state her name for the courtroom records.”
“Carrie Matthews.”
I look at the judge as Richard moves forward. “Entering into the record a statement from Carrie Matthews confirming this information.”
Once that i
s complete, I move on and return to the prior topic. “Have you ever fought with your husband in his office?”
“Yes. Couples fight.”
“Have you ever fought over Jennifer?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Did you ever fight about this investigation in his office?”
“Yes.”
“What about it?”
“Random things. I don’t remember.”
“Did Jennifer Wright call your husband’s phone the night she’s believed to have been murdered?”
“Yes,” she states.
“Did you have an argument about that call in your husband’s office, within hearing range of his secretary?”
She stares at me. “I think we might have.”
“Was Geneva Marks at her desk at the time?”
“Yes. I believe she was.”
“Why did you argue?”
She shifts in her chair. “Does it matter?”
“Answer the question, Mrs. Ward,” the judge orders.
“I wanted to tell the police that I took that call, but he didn’t want me to,” she says, contradicting what Geneva told us.
There is rumbling in the courtroom, and, of course, assumed guilt placed on my client. But I’m not done. “But you did not.”
“No.”
“Why?” I press.
“He felt it would drag me into this,” she says. “More so than I already have been.”
“Based on that argument that was witnessed by your husband’s secretary, who took the call?”
“Me. I took the call.”
There is another rumbling of voices in the courtroom and the judge calls the court to order, and then looks at me. “Continue.”
“How did you go about answering your husband’s phone?”
“I was reading in bed and he was asleep and I didn’t want to wake him up,” she says. “I grabbed the call and went to the other room.”
“How long was the call?”
“An hour or so. It was a lengthy conversation,” she confirms. “But she needed to talk.”
“Did your husband talk to her?”
“No.”
“Was your husband aware that you were talking to her?” I ask.
“Not until I’d been on the call with her for a while.”
“Why did you take the call at all?”
Dirty Rich One Night Stand Page 19
