DEFENSE

by Glenna Sinclair

  “We got a wizard in our midst, do we?” the Hell’s Angel said.

  The other two laughed.

  “Yo! You leave my boy alone!” the short black guy shouted. He raced over and stood by my side in camaraderie. He couldn’t have been more than five-foot-five. “This guy here is the best point guard the Washington Wizards ever had!”

  Though I appreciated the support, I really didn’t want to get into a brawl, and the little guy by my side was being antagonistic.

  “I don’t care if he’s the queen of Sheba,” the Hell’s Angel said, making the others beside him laugh. “No one gets special treatment in here.” He pummeled a fist into his palm. “Not even wizards.”

  The short guy was tugging on my sleeve. He looked hyped up, like he was ready to blow, like he was just itching to fight alongside his hero. Little did he know, I was no one’s hero. I was just some idiot who’d found himself in a terrible situation.

  I backed away. Other than my height, the one thing I had on these guys was my speed. I’d easily be able to outrun them to the exit at the other end of the hall, but then what? If I were convicted of murder, I’d have to live alongside these ogres for the rest of my life. If I ran, how would that look? What kind of repercussions could it have? There was only one option. I had to stick up for myself.

  So I took a step forward, bringing my chin up to meet the Hell’s Angel staring me down. My accomplice was more than willing to mimic me, though he only came up to the other man’s chest.

  Three on two. Three aged biker men against a famous basketball player and a short-ass.

  The Hell’s Angel man threw the first punch. It landed square on my jaw. I heard a cracking noise before I was knocked sideways. Black stars burst across my vision. I staggered, then righted myself before slamming my own fist into the man’s soft gut. He doubled over with a groan.

  All at once, punches and kicks began raining down. The whole canteen erupted into chaos, some people racing to join in, others standing on the sidelines, hyped up by the violence. An alarm started blaring, and guards rushed over, grabbing people, whacking others with truncheons.

  I found myself on the floor, huddled in a fetal position. I covered my head with my arms, desperate to protect my brain. Pain exploded from every part of my body.

  I couldn’t do this…I couldn’t live my life like this.

  Prison would kill me.

  “Katie…” I whispered under my breath. “Please save me.”

  Chapter Five

  Katie

  After Harrison’s interrogation, I went home. I knew I was going to have to work all weekend, what with the bail hearing set for Saturday afternoon, and I desperately wanted to catch some sleep before then to make sure I was at my best. I also didn’t want to look like a horrendous wretch the next time I met up with Harrison. I knew it was shallow, but I wanted him to see me at my best, not hungover and frazzled like I had been earlier.

  My house was silent and dark when I returned. It was only once I flopped into my bed that I remembered Jessica. I’d been a terrible friend, leaving her like that, but what else was I supposed to do? She didn’t want to speak to the police, and she seemed pretty pissed at me for having suggested it. Plus, Tim had been in. It wasn’t like I’d left her alone. I’d just put my job first.

  My job and my desire.

  I pulled my covers up to my chin and thought about Harrison Wrexler. The interrogation had gone well; he’d refused to answer certain questions and hadn’t said anything to incriminate himself further. If we could get him bailed we’d be able to speak more freely and thoroughly, and look through all the evidence against him before building our case. The thought of spending more time with him set my body on fire with excitement.

  I knew I was playing a dangerous game. Lusting after a client wasn’t a crime—even sleeping with one wasn’t completely forbidden in DC, though it was certainly frowned upon—but it definitely had the potential to cloud my professional judgement. I needed to think with my head, not my clit. But as I drifted off to sleep, all I could think about was Harrison’s gorgeous face, his smoldering expressions, his deep, mournful gaze, and the dark secrets he was going to share with me.

  ***

  It was midday by the time I resurfaced. I showered and chose my sexiest work dress—a dark crimson fitted dress with black paneling to accentuate my waist. I had a meeting scheduled with Galiema at the office, and then the two of us were heading to bond court for Harrison’s bail hearing.

  I found Tim in the kitchen drinking coffee.

  “You’re up late,” he said.

  I poured myself a cup.

  “I was working all night,” I said, taking a sip. “Where’s Jessica?”

  “You mean your best friend who you left in the lurch?” Tim said gruffly. “You haven’t even bothered to say hi to her?”

  I sighed into my coffee cup. “You’re pissed at me.”

  “Damn right I’m pissed at you, Katie. There’s going off to work, and then there’s staying in bed all morning while your friend cries her eyes out. What the fuck has gotten into you?”

  “She’s been crying?”

  “Of course she’s been crying!”

  I slammed my cup onto the tabletop. “Jesus, Tim. What am I supposed to do? I have a job that’s taking up my time and energy. Jessica didn’t want my help. You heard her!”

  “She didn’t want you to be a lawyer; she needed you to be a friend.”

  “Well, maybe I’m just a shit friend,” I snapped back.

  I whirled out of the kitchen and scooped up my briefcase.

  “You’re leaving?” Tim demanded, following me out the kitchen.

  “Yes. I’m leaving. I have an important job, unlike some people I know.”

  I knew it was below the belt, but at that point I didn’t care. Neither Tim, an unemployed artist, nor Jessica, with her bar job, knew anything about responsibility. If they didn’t turn up to work one day, an innocent man wouldn’t end up in prison. They had no idea the sort of pressure I was under.

  I pulled on my heels and swirled out the door, cutting off Tim’s tirade of anger. I rushed down the corridor. I couldn’t cope with any crap at the moment. I needed to focus on Harrison. Right now, he was my priority. Getting him out of jail and keeping him out was way more important than my friends’ petty dramas.

  ***

  When I got to the office, I went straight to Galiema’s office. She was on the phone, looking as poised and elegant as usual. As I waited, I noticed that the door to John Newland’s office was closed, a sure fire sign that he was in a meeting with a client. I was surprised to see him at work on a Saturday. From the brief moments I’d spent with John, it had become evident that his workaholic days were far behind him. The general vibe in the office was that he was cruising towards retirement, and that meant an opening at the top. I hadn’t given the idea much thought. There were people who’d been at Newland & Rook for close to a decade. Still, Rook & Scott had a nice ring to it….

  “Katie,” Galiema said, putting down the phone and gesturing to the empty chair on the opposite side of the desk.

  I took a seat, enveloped by the luxury leather.

  “You look very nice. Did you manage to get some sleep?”

  “Yes, thankfully,” I said. “It was a long night.”

  “Indeed.”

  I could tell she was willing me to challenge her on her no-show. Galiema respected people who confronted her. In her eyes, business was business. I wondered if I’d ever be as good at cutting off my own emotions.

  “I was expecting you to be at the station,” I said, taking the bait. “It’s my first high-profile, and I could have done with the support.”

  A thin smile spread across Galiema’s lips. “If you’d checked into the office after your meeting with our client, you would have known why I wasn’t there.”

  Typical. She was going to twist it around against me. Despite having my Friday night cut short and spending my Saturday morning alone
in the police office, she was going to insinuate that I hadn’t worked as hard as I should have, that I ought to have come here afterwards to meet her instead of crawling into bed like a zombie.

  “I didn’t realize there was work going on behind the scenes,” I said. “You didn’t answer your phone, so I just assumed you’d gone home.”

  Galiema spat out a laugh.

  “Well?” I said. “What was going on here?”

  Galiema folded one of her elegant arms over the other. “I was sorting out the media. Getting injunctions in place. Making sure no paps or reports followed you out the station and that no one would turn up at the bail hearing. I was liasing with Mr Wrexler’s manager and pulling some strings to make sure the bail hearing happened immediately, so our client wasn’t left languishing in prison too long.”

  “What are the chances of us getting him bail?” I said. “I mean, he’s been charged with murder. I can count on my fingers the number of perps who’ve gotten bail for a murder charge.”

  “They all have one thing in common, Katie,” Galiema replied with a smile. “Tons of money.”

  I folded my arms. “So we’re paying off the judge?”

  “If that’s how you want to look at it,” Galiema replied with a smirk. “Money talks, Katie,” she added when she noted my expression. “The manager of the Washington Wizards wants this case cleaned up as soon as possible. He’s willing to pay anything, pretty much, including a million-dollar bail.”

  “Great,” I said dryly. “I’m glad to hear we’re profiting from all this.”

  “Now,” Galiema said, clearing her throat. “We should be getting the autopsy report by the end of the day.”

  “That soon?”

  Galiema rubbed two fingers together. “Money, Katie. We need to know what we’re up against. If there’s any signs that might suggest rape, we’ll need to know before court.”

  “There might be,” I said, pulling out my file. “Harrison said they had rough sex. A bit of bondage. A bit of asphyxiation. It might look bad for him.”

  Galiema rolled her eyes. “They’re all the same, aren’t they? These rich young men?”

  I frowned in spite of myself. “Harrison did those things because Shantelle asked him to. That’s her sexual preference, not his.”

  Galiema tipped her eyes over her glasses. “Do you really believe that?”

  “Yes,” I replied confidently.

  “Handy,” Galiema said. “It’s always easier to defend these monsters when you think they’re innocent.”

  “Harrison is innocent.”

  “Oh please,” Galiema said. “He’s a rich, entitled little boy who snorts cocaine off of prostitutes, treats women like sex dolls, then throws them off the balcony when he’s bored with them.”

  “That’s not what happened,” I said, slamming my fist onto the table. “Those drugs claims were unsubstantiated, just vile things the media said after the death of his wife. And he has no history with prostitutes at all. In fact, he had intimacy issues after his wife’s death, and Shantelle was the first woman he’d been with.”

  Galiema listened to my tirade impassively. “Very good,” she said. “I can really hear the passion in your voice. The jury will like that. But let’s try to keep this out of court. Despite what you might think about golden boy, our victim was a prostitute. So arguing he didn’t use women wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  My face blanched. Harrison hadn’t said he’d paid Shantelle to sleep with him. That certainly made things look worse. A man driven to despair and impotence by the death of his wife, and lacking stability after the end of the season goes out, finds a prostitute, rapes her, then chucks her off the balcony. He should have told me. It would be way harder to spin this now.

  I also didn’t want to believe that about Harrison. Maybe everything he’d told me at the police station was bullshit. Maybe he was like the person Galiema had read about in the papers after all. I thought he’d understood the futility of lying to his lawyer. If he wasn’t going to be honest with me, we would get crucified in court.

  “We’d better head to bond court,” Galiema said, snapping me from my thoughts.

  We stood and went to the door of her office. Just as we exited, John Newland’s door opened and he strode out purposefully. We stopped in the hallway.

  “Katie,” John said with a nod. “I hear you’re on the Wrexler case. Think you can handle it?”

  “Definitely,” I said. “And you’re on a case, too, I see.”

  John took a step forward and closed the door. “It’s my nephew. He’s in a spot of trouble with the law. Maybe if you do a good job with Wrexler you could take over the case. There are…similarities.”

  I cringed, wondering if he was insinuating that his nephew had been charged with murdering a woman. I didn’t want to get myself a reputation for defending brutal misogynists. I’d come to Newland & Rook hoping to get on one of their big pharmaceutical cases, in which parents were suing a major drug company for the deaths of their children after being prescribed poorly tested medication. I’d chosen to become a defense lawyer to support the good guys against the major corporations, not the rich against the impoverished.

  “I think Katie will have her hands full for the time being,” Galiema said, patting my shoulder. “Perhaps one of the eager first years would want to get onboard with your rape case.”

  John chuckled and retreated into his office. As his door swung open, I got a glimpse inside at his nephew. To my horror, I recognized who it was. Seb, the guy who’d raped Jessica.

  I couldn’t believe it. A feeling like ice prickled up my spine before the door closed in my face, blocking him out.

  “Galiema,” I stammered, “that guy…he’s a rapist. We can’t represent him.”

  Galiema gave me a look. “Everyone’s entitled to a defense.”

  “But…” I started to protest. Before I got a chance to finish my statement, Galiema had taken me by the arm and led me away.

  ***

  I tried calling Jessica from the taxi three times, but she didn’t answer. In the end I texted her, telling her that she needed to come forward and speak to the police about Seb ASAP. I explained there’d been another victim and that her testimony would have more credence with corroboration from another person. I knew it wasn’t what she wanted to hear from me, but I couldn’t bear the thought of that creep getting off scot-free for his crimes because his uncle happened to be one of the most prestigious lawyers in DC.

  As the taxi pulled up outside bond court, I realized that I’d have to put everything going on with Jessica out of my mind. Now it was time to focus on Harrison. I had to do my best for him. Not just because in my heart I was certain he deserved bail, but for the thrilling fact that once he was out of prison, we’d be spending a lot more time together.

  Chapter Six

  Harrison

  The first thing she said to me through the Perspex glass window in bond court was, “What happened?”

  The look in her eyes was one of genuine concern. Even after telling her I despised lawyers, she was still worried for me. The thought warmed me to Katie Scott even more.

  “I got in a fight,” I said. “It’s nothing.”

  “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

  She put her hand up to the glass as though trying to touch my wounds. I realized in that moment how much I wanted her to, how much I wanted to feel her soft fingertips caressing my skin. I shook the feeling off. No, I wasn’t going to let myself get emotionally attached to this woman. Catherine’s death had destroyed me. I could never let myself become vulnerable like that again.

  “How likely am I to get out today?” I said.

  Katie must have noticed the abrupt shift in me. She suddenly straightened up, flipping on her professional demeanor. “Well, your manager’s agreed to pay any amount the bail is set at. We just need to convince the judge that it’s okay to let a potential murderer out of jail. Which won’t be easy.”

  “But you can do it?”
I said. There was a pleading tone in my voice.

  Katie glanced at me with her beautiful, sorrowful eyes. “I’ll do everything I can.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I was certain Katie could do it. I didn’t think I could cope with another night in the cells.

  The judge entered, making the usual din of the bond court become briefly more hushed. But as he began going through each case, the noise level increased again. Men were taken before him, their lawyers given barely two minutes to make the case for their bail amount. It was terrifying to see. When the men weren’t granted bail, their families in the pews would begin to wail, or shout and be escorted out by police officers. The whole thing was a chaotic mess.

  Suddenly, my name was called. A police officer hauled me out of the cell and displayed me in front of the judge. In my prison overalls, and with my hands and feet chained, I felt every inch the convict they expected me to be.

  The judge didn’t even look up. “Why are you bringing a murder charge to bond court?” he said simply. “Surely you know we don’t bail murderers.”

  My heart clenched. Katie began speaking immediately.

  “With all due respect, Your Honor, there are plenty of cases where someone on a murder charge has been bailed. My client has no previous criminal convictions. The evidence against him is circumstantial, at best, and it would not be in the public’s interest to keep him in jail pending trial.”

  She spoke quickly, the words tumbling from her. I couldn’t help but watch in awe. The judge, on the other hand, barely looked up.

  “He can afford bond. We have a benefactor lined up already,” Katie finished.

  “Mmm,” the judge said. “Mr Wrexler clearly has a lot of wealth.” Finally he looked up. “But I’m inclined to order him to stay in prison until the trial. I don’t feel like being a trailblazer this afternoon, Miss Scott.”