With one hand behind her, she eased the handle down. When it was open enough, she crouched, nabbed the newspaper, and hightailed it to the bathroom.
“Hey! What’re you doing?” John sprang up from the sofa, but she clicked the lock on the door seconds before he got there. He turned the handle. “God fucking damn it, Holly! Give me that paper!”
“Not until I’m done.”
“Al said you’d be a real mouse. Fucking liar,” he muttered.
She sat on the commode and opened it. Horrified to see her face on the front, she read the story as tears streamed down her cheeks. The headline read—“Hot Dog Girl Turns Out to be Runaway Witness.” Written in a derisive tone, the name “Hot Dog Girl” became like an epithet. The article berated her for not coming forward sooner. She knew she’d been wrong not to contact the D.A. earlier, but she’d been afraid. So far, she was safe. But they hadn’t done a very good job keeping her safe in Pine Grove, had they?
She was mad the reporter didn’t know about that and considered writing a letter to the editor explaining, but decided against it. Fortunately, they hadn’t dug up her relationship with Dan Alexander—yet. Dread filled her. Obviously, the scandal-hungry so-called journalists would find out about them. They’d keep digging until they had the whole story, and Dan would be dragged through the mud right along with her.
The paper made her seem like a gangster’s moll. It wasn’t anything like that. Flash Kincaid had been good to her. He’d taken her out to elegant restaurants, bought her nice clothes, and even some jewelry, laughed at her jokes and had been a considerate lover. She had thought she’d found the perfect mate, except she never could figure out what he did for a living. Sure, she should have put the pieces together when he was evasive about his work and his schedule was crazy, with meetings at midnight.
Holly had been naïve. She’d wanted to believe he was her prince charming, rescuing her from her lonely tower on Park Avenue. She had wanted him to be the one and had fantasized about a perfect life with Flash. When she’d gotten over the shock of finding out what he did for a living, she’d been heartbroken. She’d missed him, telling herself every day that he wasn’t the man she thought he was. But the fantasy had been so strong, it’d hurt like Hell to let it go.
Would they print that in the newspaper? Probably not. No, absolutely not—because it was the truth, a human story of real love that had ended up in deceit and then violence. Maybe she should write a book about it? Perhaps a newspaper would print it as a serial?
She started to write it to while away the idle hours she spent cooped up with John and Buzz. Putting it on paper also clarified the events of that night. It helped her feel prepared to take the stand.
When she tired of jotting things down, she wondered if her relationship with Dan would survive their separation. She already knew where she was going, but couldn’t tell a soul—even her parents. Not knowing how long she’d be gone and what other women would cross Dan’s path made her anxious. Attractive, rich, famous—Dan was every woman’s dream. She couldn’t expect to hold onto him for long after she went away.
A sigh escaped her lips. No use worrying about that because there was nothing she could do. Instead, Holly turned her thoughts to the new life she’d be creating as soon as the trial was over.
She put her feet up on the coffee table and recalled her conversation with Barb Finn, about setting up her life in witness protection.
“We’re sending you to Pennsylvania this time.”
“Should be nice there in the fall.”
Barb had grinned. “Yep. Your new name is,” she had said, rummaging through a stack of papers, “Carrie Thomas. The town is Candlewood. Ever heard of it?”
“Nope,” Holly had replied.
“You’ll be living in Mrs. Hatch’s boarding house. You’ll have a room and kitchen privileges. Oh, we did get you the job you wanted. An apprenticeship at Bread and Butter, a local bakery.”
“Thanks. Carrie Thomas, huh?” At least she had gotten the job she wanted.
“Yep.”
“For how long?”
Barb had shrugged. “It all depends on if there’s an appeal and the sentencing.”
“Thank you. Cell phone?”
Barb had shaken her head. “A burner phone, maybe. But only if you promise not to use it except for an emergency. We can’t keep you safe if we can’t shut down access to you.”
“Right.” Holly’s spirits had deflated like a week-old balloon. She’d hoped to be able to at least text Dan once in a while.
“Good luck,” Barb had said, giving the girl a hug. “You’re doing the right thing.”
“I hope so.”
Her last shred of hope had vanished at the news. Dan would never be able to find her. But then, again, neither would Flash or his men. She’d be safe, alone, and starting over.
* * * *
Holly awoke early the morning of the trial. She dressed then joined the men for a room service breakfast. They chatted about the game. Holly surprised them with her knowledge of baseball.
At eight, the threesome left the hotel. A private car was waiting to whisk them away and drop them at the court building. With the men flanking her, Holly climbed the steps. Her hands perspired, and her pulse jumped.
At security, John presented credentials, and they were admitted. Holly’s heels clicked on the polished stone floor as they made their way to the courtroom. Al Housman and his two assistant D.A.’s greeted them. They shook hands with Holly. John escorted her to a seat in the front row.
Housman leaned over. “Kincaid or his goons may shoot you some dirty looks. Don’t worry. They can’t harm you here.”
“Thanks.” She hadn’t considered that.
Within a few minutes, the defendant was escorted into the courtroom by two guards. She couldn’t help but look at him. His eyes were black with hatred. Staring right at her, he spat on the floor. The guards yanked him back and reprimanded him. But she got the message. Her heartbeat sped up as fear laced through her.
The guards whispered something to him. Flash looked small and mean. She wondered how she could ever have been in love with him. Once he sat down, he turned his gaze straight ahead.
“Sorry,” Al said. “That won’t happen again.”
John squeezed her hand. Gratitude for the security he and Buzz provided warmed her. She’d be safe in the courtroom, and she’d worry about the rest later.
The squeaking hinges of the door alerted her that other people had entered the room. She twisted around to see who could possibly be interested in this case. Her mother and father sat in the last row. Her dad nodded once, and her mother raised a palm and wore a feeble smile. At least they’re here.
She turned back to face front again. A tap on her shoulder made her jump. John grabbed the wrist of the hand that was patting her. Blood drained from her face before she peeked behind. In the row right behind her sat Bud, Nancy, and Lisa Magee.
“They’re friends,” Holly said to John. He dropped his arm. “Thank you so much for coming. You didn’t have to.”
“We’re here for you, sweetheart,” Nancy said, shooting the young woman a smile.
Surprised at their devotion, Holly smiled back. Her pulse slowed. Having her temporary family there for support sent relief through her. Clerks entered and stopped at the D.A.’s table. A murmur of voices and the shuffling of papers was the loudest noise. Holly spied an older woman sitting on the other side. She had the same shaped face as Flash, probably his mother. She shot a hostile look at the young witness then turned her nose up and looked away.
Al turned around to whisper to her. “Five minutes.”
The courtroom quieted down. The hinges creaked one more time then she heard the sound of someone’s heels on the floor. Again, she craned her neck, and her mouth fell open. Dan smiled at her as he eased across the row to the seat next to Bud. She’d never thought, in a million years, that he would come. Of course, he had pitched yesterday, so he was free today.
&n
bsp; He squeezed her shoulder before sitting down. A bolt of energy shot through her at his touch. Tears stung at the back of her eyes. She’d never had this much encouragement in her life. Before she could speak, the judge entered the room, and the bailiff called for everyone to rise.
During the proceedings, Flash threw her an evil look from time to time, but she remained strong. She had come to court to do the right thing, and she intended to see it through, no matter the consequences.
Finally, it was Holly’s turn to testify. Her heartbeat thumped faster in her chest as she walked up to the box. She was sworn in and climbed the two steps into the witness stand. She was prepared for Al’s questions. He smiled at her once, which put her at ease. She answered truthfully, though her heart was still pumping faster than usual. Then, it was time for the cross-examination.
The D.A.’s staff had tried to prepare her for some wicked questions from the defense.
“They’ll try to make you look guilty,” one man had said.
“Me? I didn’t shoot anyone.”
“Guilty of all kinds of things. Taking money from Flash. Sleeping with him. Whatever. They’ll try to damage your credibility by making you look bad to the jury. Be prepared.”
“What can I do?”
“Just tell the truth.”
She took a deep breath as a dark-haired man about five foot ten, in a navy suit and blue shirt approached. He shot a fake smile at her. Her pulse jumped. She wiped her palms on her skirt.
He didn’t miss that. “Nervous, Miss Merrill?” He put his hands on the railing.
“A bit. It’s nerve-wracking testifying in court.”
“Oh? If you’re telling the truth, why would you be nervous?”
“I am telling the truth.”
“That’s for the jury to decide. How long did your relationship with Mr. Kincaid last?”
She shut her eyes for a second to count up the months. “Fifteen months.”
“Over a year?”
“Yes.”
“And during that time, you had no idea how he made a living?”
“No, I did not.”
“Were you too busy spending his money to worry about where it came from?”
“No. I didn’t spend his money.”
“Oh? Didn’t he take you to fancy restaurants, buy you designer clothes, and even a diamond tennis bracelet?” He paced in front of the stand.
“Yes. But he spent that. He wanted to. I never asked him for anything.”
The defense attorney, Mr. Finch, laughed. “Really? That’s what all women who trade sex for money say.”
“Objection!”
“Sustained.”
“Withdrawn.”
“I didn’t trade sex for money!”
“The objection was sustained and the question withdrawn, Miss Merrill. You don’t have to answer.”
“Oh. Sorry, Your Honor.”
The judge smiled and nodded.
“Weren’t you sleeping with Mr. Kincaid?”
“Yes.” She suppressed a desire to shift in her seat. Obviously, the questions were about to get hotter.
“And didn’t he buy you expensive gifts?”
“Yes. But one had nothing to do with the other. He did that because he wanted to. I never asked him for anything.”
“Do you recall a conversation about the Bahamas with Mr. Kincaid, right around Christmas time?”
“I don’t remember.”
“He told you he was going there for New Year’s. Remember now?”
“No.”
“And you asked if you could tag along?”
“Oh. Yes. I did.” She nodded.
“And you say you never asked him for anything expensive?”
She sensed heat creeping into her cheeks. “That was different.”
“Why?”
“I was going to miss him. I was in love with Flash. I didn’t want us to be separated.”
“I see. Yet you never said you’d buy your own plane ticket to the Bahamas, did you?”
“No.” Humiliation flooded through her.
“So, you received expensive dinners, trips, and gifts from him, yet you want this court to believe you had no idea where his money came from?”
“That’s right.”
“So, when he started taking out another woman, you weren’t jealous?”
“What other woman?”
“Come, come, Miss Merrill, don’t lie. You knew Mr. Kincaid was growing tired of you. So, you followed Mr. Grundy out to the alleyway and made up some story about him shooting a man, didn’t you?”
“No! I had no idea Flash had someone else.” Anger mixed with pain. She shot a look at the defendant, but his gaze was cool and detached.
“Sure you did. The woman in the ladies’ room told you all about Angela.”
“No! She didn’t. She told me he was running a drug and prostitution ring!”
“You saw your meal ticket moving on. And it made you mad. You planned to get revenge. If you couldn’t have a fancy lifestyle with Mr. Kincaid footing the bill, then no one would. So, you’d put him and his associate behind bars!”
“No, no! I never thought that.”
Al Housman jumped up. “I object, Your Honor. The witness is not on trial here.”
“We’re simply presenting another scenario, Your Honor.”
“Objection overruled.”
Holly turned to face Kincaid. “Flash! You didn’t have another girl, did you?”
The judge tapped his pen on the desk. “Don’t talk to the defendant, Miss Merrill.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor.”
Her heart rate doubled, and her fingers trembled. She made fists so the defense attorney wouldn’t see them shaking. Another woman? That’s a big lie. He was with me all the time.
“You want this court to believe that suddenly, one night, impulsively, you were leaving Mr. Kincaid? Slipping out the back door?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“And you just happened to see Mr. Grundy shoot someone?” His voice rose.
“Yes. That’s it, exactly.”
“What a coincidence! Do you believe in coincidences, Miss Merrill?”
“It wasn’t a coincidence. It was a desperate escape plan. I was scared.”
“I see. Suddenly, you were scared of your lover of over a year. So scared, you had to sneak away at that very moment. Were you afraid he might shoot you, Miss Merrill?” His strident tone rang out.
“No. I…well, maybe. I don’t know.”
“I see. You don’t know. So, you had sex with Mr. Kincaid, night after night, slept in his bed, next to him, night after night for a year…and suddenly, you thought he was violent. Suddenly, you feared for your life? Is that what you want this court to believe?”
Holly blinked back the tears.
“I object! Mr. Finch is browbeating the witness.”
“Objection sustained. Calm down, Mr. Finch,” the judge said.
“I’m sorry, Your Honor.”
But Holly didn’t see one shred of “sorry” on his face. Instead, he grinned at her. “No offense, Miss Merrill.”
She sat, silent, glaring at him.
“Let me get this straight. Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, you were afraid of Mr. Kincaid?”
“No.”
“Then, what was it?”
“I didn’t want to be involved in anything illegal. If Flash was doing illegal things, I needed to get away.”
“I see. You wanted to save yourself.”
“Yes. I’ve never broken the law.”
“I maintain that you’re breaking it right now by lying your head off on the witness stand!”
Al Housman rose. “Objection!”
“Objection sustained.”
Holly’s resolve broke. She could take no more and broke down in tears. The judge banged the gavel and declared a twenty-minute recess so the witness could compose herself.
Holly left the stand, wiping the wetness from her cheeks. Al’s assist
ants took her out of the courtroom, but not before she could exchange a look with Dan. He raised a palm, his brow furrowed, his eyes unreadable.
At least they haven’t connected the dots from me to Dan yet.
The attorneys shoved a glass of water at her and fired questions. She had a moment to wash her face in the ladies’ room then she was back in the courtroom. Nancy reached over and squeezed her shoulder. One glance at her white-faced parents told Holly all she needed to know about their reaction.
“Miss Merrill, will you please take the stand again? Reminder, you’re still under oath,” the judge said.
She nodded as she walked to the box.
The defense attorney stood up and approached. “I hope you’re feeling better, Miss Merrill.”
She glared at him, but didn’t say a word.
“I have no more questions, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Housman?”
“Yes, just a few questions on redirect, Your Honor.”
“Proceed.”
“Miss Merrill, can you please give the court your address?”
“525 Park Avenue.”
“How long have you lived there?”
“All my life.”
“Your parents live there now, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you have private quarters there?”
“I have a suite they created from another apartment. They bought the other place and attached it to theirs. When I was twenty-two, it was given to me.”
“And what did this suite consist of?”
“Objection! Relevance? Mr. Housman is wasting the court’s time,” the defense attorney said.
“On the contrary,” Al countered.
“If you can tie this into previous testimony, get on with it, Mr. Housman,” said the judge.
Holly wondered, along with the judge, what Mr. Housman could be driving at.
“During the time you were dating Mr. Kincaid, did you have a regular job?”
“No.” She sensed a flush in her cheeks. Nope. She’d been a spoiled brat, a freeloader off her parents. But not anymore.
“Did you ask Mr. Kincaid for money?”
“No.”
“So, what did you do for money?”
“My parents gave me an allowance.”
Dan Alexander, Pitcher Page 17
