by Carsen Taite
“It was a hard day.”
“I can tell that just by looking at you.”
“I want you to know, up front, that I didn’t finish writing the brief on Eric’s case, let alone get it filed.”
Serena mentally counted to five before she responded. “I’m sure you had a good reason.”
“I suppose. I wanted to work on it, but Paul put the entire team to work on another case. In fact, he called me in last night.”
That explained the tired eyes, the rumpled appearance. “You worked all night?”
“Yes.”
“Care to tell me about it or is it confidential?”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
Serena set the knife down and walked back over to the table. This conversation felt like pulling teeth. Cory was hunched over and on edge. She looked miserable. Serena rested her hands on her shoulders and began to gently knead them. “I think you need to talk about your day or it’s going to eat you up. If you are allowed to talk about it, I’m a good listener.”
Cory leaned back into the comfort of Serena’s touch, and the words came tumbling out. “Michael Young killed five people. With an axe. He chopped them into little bits, each one, while the others watched, too paralyzed from fear to do anything but scream. He didn’t give a damn what happened to those people. Probably still doesn’t to this day, years later.” She paused and let Serena’s soothing touch sink in. She wanted a drink, but to get one she’d have to break the connection. Instead, she spat out the reason behind her angst. “The people he killed will never enjoy a spring day, have children, grow old, but today his life was spared.”
Cory leaned back as Serena stopped the massage and wrapped her in strong arms. Neither of them spoke. Cory was out of words. She’d used the power of language all day in her quest to save Michael Young’s life. No words were left to adequately express the pain, the conflict that came from having to use her powers of persuasion to defend a murderer. The comfort of Serena’s embrace was a surprise. She hadn’t meant to share any of the details of her day, her struggle to align her principles and her gut feelings, especially not with Serena since it might be too easy to draw a parallel between Eric and Michael.
“Was it this hard to work the other side? As a prosecutor?”
Cory took a deep breath and settled on honesty. “I didn’t let it be. I think my perspective from the prosecution side makes working these cases more difficult.”
“I think that might be horseshit.” Serena resumed her gentle massage, but the action didn’t soften the blow of her remark.
Cory twisted around in her chair. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you, miss high and mighty prosecutor, are not the only one who is conflicted about saving the lives of criminals. This man whose life you all saved today, was he the one who had mental issues?”
“Understatement, but yes, that’s the guy.”
“You think I don’t have mixed feelings about whether life in prison is adequate retribution for murder? Well, I do, and I imagine that if someone I loved was one of his victims, the decision would be a whole lot harder. So quit acting like you’re the only one who has all this conflict to deal with.”
Cory grinned. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel? Seriously, do you really have mixed feelings? Even about Eric?”
“Let’s be clear. We don’t know yet if Eric did what he’s accused of doing. But if he did? Well, I wouldn’t want him to die, because he’s my brother, but I do think he should be punished. If I were Nancy McGowan’s mother, I might want him to die a slow and painful death. Point is, it’s not an easy issue.”
“Okay, but back to what you just said. If Eric did what he’s accused of doing. What if you don’t know and could never find out? Michael Young got caught at the scene, bloody axe in his hand, covered in victim DNA. Cases don’t usually pan out that way. Usually, only two people know who committed a crime and, when the crime’s murder, the murderer is often the only one alive to tell the story.”
Serena sat next to Cory. “Why, in cases where you never hear from the victim, do you automatically think the person you’ve put on trial is the one who did the crime?”
“Victims speak through evidence, and as a prosecutor, it’s up to me to give them a voice by presenting that evidence. Today, I spent all my energy saving the murderer. That’s why I didn’t get Eric’s motion filed.”
Serena shushed her. “I understand. I was totally out of place to get angry with you this morning. I think I had a little residual anger left over from the night before. Had nothing to do with Eric’s case.”
“I’m sorry. Julie really is my boss. She worked with me on the Nelson case.” Cory wasn’t sure why she divulged that detail, but she regretted the remark as soon as Serena posed her next of many questions.
“What happened in the Nelson case?”
Why did everything circle around to that? Her relationship with Julie, her career. Everything started and ended with that damn case. If not for Nelson, she’d never have met Serena, the only good outcome from a huge cluster fuck.
“I wish I knew. Judge Yost let Nelson free. Does anything else matter?”
“Yes. I find it hard to believe you’d fight so hard against something unless you had good reason to believe it.”
“Doesn’t matter what I think. Only matters what I can prove.”
“Life is full of things you can’t prove.”
“I know and I hate it.” Cory laughed, but she wondered if Serena recognized how much she really meant it.
“I know you do and that’s one of the truly adorable things about you. A true idealist. Infuriating, but sweet at the same time.” Serena turned her chair and pulled Cory into her arms. “Tell me about the Nelson case. I need to know and you need to tell it.”
Cory sighed and gave in. She’d shared bits and pieces with her circle of friends, but she’d never tried to tell the whole story in a single sitting. She and Julie, as close as they’d worked on the case, never hashed the details other than to work out their arrangement at the end, when everything fell apart. She suspected Serena needed the telling as a barometer of sorts, to allay her concerns that Cory may not fight hard for Eric because she was predisposed to believe a convicted felon deserved whatever he had coming. She could understand that. Maybe sharing the details would be cathartic. Surely her promise that she’d give only “no comments” didn’t extend to her personal life.
“Ray Nelson and his wife had a rocky relationship. In the two years they’d been married, the police had been called to their house seven times after receiving complaints of abuse. A couple of those times, he’d been the one to make the call, but the rest were neighbors calling to report that Ray was beating up on Helen again. The first few times, she’d refused to talk to the police, said she wanted to drop the charges. Then the DA’s office started making her go through extra hoops to make things go away, and at least two of the cases were dropped because she didn’t show on the day of trial.
Finally, we got smart and sent one of our investigators to get her before the next trial date, keep an eye out to make sure she showed up. When he finally racked up three convictions, we had him on a felony. Yost wasn’t on the bench at the time, and the “they all can be saved” judge gave him probation after he gave some sob story about how drugs and alcohol had led to his problems and if he only had a chance to get clean, he could manage his anger and his fists.
Three years into his seven-year probation, several rehab programs behind him, police were called out to their house. Helen had been stabbed to death. The neighbors heard the noise, but they’d long since given up on trying to intervene. Nelson was nowhere to be found.
Two days later, they found him, drunk off his ass, trying to buy crack from an undercover cop. They arrested him right away for a probation violation and took him into custody. Judge Yost was on the bench then and set the bond high enough to keep him under wraps until we could figure out the situation with h
is wife.”
Cory stood and walked to the fridge. “I’m going to have something to drink. Can I get you anything?”
“Some cold water would be great.”
Cory fixed Serena’s water, and pulled a cold beer from the fridge for herself, not bothering with a glass. While she fiddled with the drinks, Serena asked, “What kind of evidence did you have against Nelson?”
“You mean besides his long history of violence, which should definitely not be minimized? Statistics show that most family violence deaths were signaled by numerous prior events in the household. The recidivism rate for family violence offenders is not only high, the offenders tend to escalate in the number and severity of assaults.” Cory didn’t try to hide her anger about the situation.
“I didn’t mean anything by my question. I was just asking.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. I just can’t help but get a little touchy about the whole subject. Most of these crimes can be prevented.” She took a long pull from her beer. “Neighbors testified about fights they’d had, including a rather loud argument the night of the murder. Based on the time of death the medical examiner gave, Nelson had no alibi. There were a few other things, a particularly violent movie he’d rented the night of the murder. Aspects of his wife’s death could be tied to the events in the movie. The cold, callous way he acted when the police questioned him after her body was found. Everything we had was circumstantial, but like I said before, sometimes that’s all there is.”
“So what went wrong?”
“I’m not sure. We got our conviction, but years later, Nelson’s mother-in-law tells some reporter who wants to write a book about the case that she told one of the detectives that Nelson’s son, who was left alone with his dead mother, said that his dad wasn’t home when the murder occurred, that some ‘monster’ broke in and did the deed. The kid was three years old at the time.
“The reporter tells Nelson’s lawyers, and they get the Innocence Project involved. They file a writ and our new DA, who’s made a national name for himself as the conviction integrity guru, opens the entire DA file to the defense attorneys. They found not only a taped conversation with the grandmother that says exactly what she told the reporter, but also supplements to the police report that were never produced at trial, in violation of a court order.”
“What did the police reports say?”
“Someone tried to use Nelson’s wife’s MasterCard ten days after she was killed. And her paycheck had been cashed at a bank in a neighboring town, the signature forged.”
“You didn’t know about these reports?”
“Damn right. I’d swear on my life those supplements weren’t part of our file when we tried this case. All I can figure is that when the current DA agreed to open the file, he had our appellate division check with the law enforcement agency that investigated the case and requested copies of their files to be included as well. Apparently, no one logged the files. It all got lumped together, so there’s no way to tell what we had at the time versus what turned up later.”
“And because everyone assumes you had this info and didn’t turn it over, you got blamed?”
“Pretty much. This case went high profile fast. They needed a scapegoat. Someone high enough up to matter, but not so much that all their aspirations would be ruined. I won.” Cory sighed as she recited the party line she’d memorized. She could hear Julie’s whispered urgings as if she were there in the room. When I’m the DA, we’ll be able to put this unfortunate episode completely behind us. Take the heat now, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. Julie had never given her a reason to distrust her, but the fallout had been more than she bargained for. Still, she cared about Julie who, unlike her, had fiery political aspirations. She was the only other attorney who’d worked on the case. If she took the fall, she’d have been ruined. Cory felt ruined, but she would survive. She’d been pressured by promises. Julie assured her that no matter what happened, she wouldn’t lose her license and she would always have a job. She’d have to claw her way back to the reputation she’d worked her entire career to build, but if she and Julie both went down, she’d be left without any options. At least this way she’d have some assurances.
She felt a twinge of guilt that she hadn’t shared any of the backroom arrangements with Melinda, her lawyer, but she felt more than a twinge that she wasn’t sharing any of it with Serena right now. But she couldn’t. She’d given her word to Julie, and no matter what anyone else thought of her, her word meant something.
Serena sensed there was more that Cory hadn’t shared. Her feelings, for one. She wanted to pull her back into her arms and hold her tight, murmur comforts to smooth away the edges of her sadness. She could tell Cory wasn’t entirely convinced Nelson hadn’t killed his wife, but none of that really mattered in the face of what she’d lost as a result of the high-profile fiasco. While comforting Cory was all she wanted to do, she remembered her vow, the reason she’d come to Cory’s house in the first place. Restore the boundaries, show she could work with Cory on Eric’s case and not get emotionally involved, either in the right and wrong of the case or the tangle of feelings she had for Cory that was twisting her into knots. She pushed back her chair and walked to the fridge. “Would you like another beer?”
“You don’t have to wait on me.”
“I only asked if you wanted another beer. I didn’t say I was going to get you one.”
Cory laughed. “Good point. I think I’ll pass. It’s getting late.”
It was. Serena returned to the table. “I should go.”
“I know, but I don’t want you to.”
I don’t want to. Serena didn’t dare speak the words. To do so would send a river of want tumbling out of control. “I’d like to keep working with you on Eric’s case. You could use the help, and I promise I won’t get in the way.”
“What if I want you to get in the way?” Cory moved closer, her hands dangerously close to taking Serena’s into their grasp.
“I don’t think we can let what we want matter,” Serena lied. The passion she felt when Cory touched her, bared her soul to her, mattered more than anything else had ever mattered to her before. She’d stay close long enough to see Eric’s case to conclusion, but she’d have to keep her distance the entire time.
Chapter Seventeen
Cory tumbled out of bed the next morning wishing for a few more hours sleep. Her dreams had been punctuated with images of Serena. Images she shouldn’t be having, images she couldn’t shake. Didn’t matter. She’d blown off all pretense of professionalism the night before and Serena had rejected her advances. Even her rejection was as tender as the caresses she’d delivered when Cory had needed comfort. Maybe when this case was over Serena might welcome more.
Cory quickly dismissed the idea. When this case was over, Serena would go home to Florida. And if this case wasn’t over soon, Cory might not be around to see it through. She only had a few more weeks of her penance to serve. She needed to talk to Paul about a transition plan. She’d file the writ today and make sure all her notes were in order in case another attorney had to conduct the actual hearing. Would Serena be relieved to have a different lawyer make the arguments in support of her brother’s case? Would she feel more confident? Cory tried not to care, but she didn’t have a choice. Without even trying, Serena had dug her way into Cory’s heart. Whether destiny would give them a chance or not, Cory resolved to make the brief supporting Eric’s case the best legal work she’d ever done. She needed to show Serena who she really was, that she was capable of seeing more than just one side of an issue. How else could she ever hope to earn her respect? Cory knew she wanted more than Serena’s respect, but she didn’t dare name her desire for fear she would doom her chances.
After she showered and dressed, she checked her phone for messages. She hadn’t bothered to reconnect with the rest of the world after Serena had left the night before. Melinda was right; she was notorious about blocking out the rest of the world when
she was involved in her work or her relationships. She didn’t even try to convince herself that failing to check last night had been about work. She hadn’t wanted to invite anyone or anything else into what could have been, preferring instead to fall asleep with hope and promise for what might be.
She had several messages. Julie had called three times, sounding increasingly apologetic each time she failed to reach a live voice. She ended the last message with an emphatic, urgent plea for Cory to call her back as soon as possible. Cory deleted each of Julie’s messages. As much as she needed her job, she needed to focus more. At least for today. Tomorrow, after she’d smoothed the way for whoever would take over Eric’s case, she’d call Julie and make nice.
The last message was from Skye. Her lead on Dale Bolton had panned out and she had an appointment to interview him this morning. She gave Cory the when and where and suggested she come along. Cory looked at the clock. She barely had time to make it. She should get started on the writ and let Skye handle the interview alone. But if Bolton had something really useful to say, Cory wanted to hear it, directly from him. She told herself it was because she would have an easier time incorporating the evidence into the brief if she’d heard it firsthand, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit like there was more to it than that. One more day. Could one more day make a difference? She could only hope.
*
Serena shot up in bed. The dream she’d awoken from had the combined effect of thrilling her and scaring her to death at the same time. She leaned back on propped up pillows and dissected its meaning. Just before waking, she’d been in Cory’s arms. The two of them were naked, panting from sex. The vivid detail of her dream surprised her. She recalled the hum of anticipation as Cory had gently removed her clothes and urged her into bed. The hum quickly grew to a steady roar as Cory undressed and stood before her, strong, beautiful, vulnerable. Every inch of her craved contact with Cory and she gave in to long suppressed urges, pulling her down on top of her, rising to meet her. Struggling to be closer, she ground her pelvis against Cory’s, reveling in the slick wetness of their arousal. She licked and sucked Cory’s breasts and delighted in the moans she elicited with each new touch, her own pleasure mounting as Cory stroked her in response.
