“And yet…” She paused dramatically. “Yet, through all those horrific incidents, the victim, Nora Sutton, never pressed charges against her abusive husband. And why is that, ladies and gentlemen?” Another pause. “Because she was cowed. Because she was terrified. Because she’d been told repeatedly that he would kill her if she made trouble for him. And she believed him.
“You have heard from forensic psychiatrists specializing in battered wife syndrome and post-traumatic stress disorder describing the symptoms manifested by these two syndromes and demonstrating how Harold Sutton systematically terrorized his wife. How he isolated her from friends and family so he could control her every thought and movement—even to where and how she was required to position the canned goods in the pantry. How to hang the towels in the bathroom. How the hangers in his closet had to be exactly two inches apart. You heard how he convinced her that she was worthless and useless. That she could never leave him because a) she had nowhere to go, b) she had no job skills, and c) no one else would put up with her stupid, lazy self.
“And, finally, you heard from the victim herself, Nora Sutton, who, after her husband’s last beating, was left for dead. You heard her horrifying account of how she lay in a pool of her own blood for two days, unable to move or call for help. How the UPS man heard her moans and faint cries for help and called 9-1-1.
“You heard how we had to station guards outside her door in the Intensive Care Unit to keep her husband from going in and finishing the job. You heard how he found her at the battered women’s shelter and threatened to kill her if she didn’t come home and cook his dinner. Nora Sutton is alive today only because we have had her in protective custody, and the private detective hired by Mr. Sutton failed to find her.
“We have more than proven our case against Harold Sutton. And I urge you to find him guilty on all charges.” She looked each juror in the eye, and then, with a brief nod of her head, she turned and went back to her seat. She listened to Judge Richard P. Walters instructing the jury, and then they were dismissed and the courtroom cleared. She turned to see Adam sitting in the back row of the spectators’ gallery, giving her a grinning thumbs-up.
“Great summation, counselor,” he said after greeting her with a brief kiss that was so torrid it curled her toes. “Bastard’s guilty. Let’s string him up.”
She grimaced. “Too bad it’s not that easy. Some of those people on the jury are card-carrying members of the same backwoods, good-ol’-boy network that Harold belongs to. And in these parts, that means they don’t see anything particularly wrong with roughing up their wives.” She hooked her thumbs in imaginary overalls, bowed her legs, and affected a hillbilly accent so thick she sounded like Gabby Hayes. “Keeps ‘em from gittin’ uppity,” she said, thumbing back an imaginary hat. “Keeps ‘em from gittin’ any o’ them new-fangled notions about wimmin bein’ as good as men. Wimmin’ll never be as good as men.” She straightened and shook her head in resignation. “They’re probably either hunting buddies or drinking buddies of Harold’s. We’ll be lucky if they find him guilty of jaywalking.”
“Well, if you ever decide to quit your job, you’ve got a great future on Law and Order.”
She smiled. “Thanks, I love you, too.”
Taking her briefcase and laptop from her, he indicated that she should precede him out into the courthouse lobby, where they were joined by Kyle and Tom. Adam had to press his lips together to keep from smiling as, without a word of protest, Sarah handed her rolling file cart over to Kyle, leaving Tom’s hands free in case he needed to draw his weapon. The two fell into place behind Adam and Sarah, following them across the spacious lobby back to the county attorney’s office. Smiling, she held out her hands for her laptop and briefcase. “Are you going to work?” she asked Adam.
He just smiled and held the office door open to let her pass through. “I am at work.”
She stopped dead in her tracks. “Adam…” she said, tilting her head warningly. “Kyle and Tom are here. It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve finally accepted the fact that you and Jesse seem to feel their presence is necessary. But, I don’t need three bodyguards!”
When he merely continued to stand there, looking down at her impassively and saying nothing, she stamped her foot in sheer frustration. “Adam!”
He opened his mouth to speak, appeared to reconsider, then went ahead. “They’re escalating, Sarah. Brian and Lisa were nearly murdered last night.”
“What?” The breath ripped from her lungs as all the blood drained from her face. She staggered, and instantly Tom was there, at first only to steady her, then to lift her up in his arms when she fainted.
“Here,” Adam said, leading the small procession through the outer reception area, past a startled Heather and into Sarah’s office. “This way.”
“Adam!” Heather cried, jumping up from her chair. “Oh, my God! What happened? Is she okay?”
“On the couch,” he instructed, watching as Tom lowered Sarah’s limp body gently onto the maroon leather sofa, grabbing a throw pillow to tuck beneath her head. He brushed past Tom to perch a hip on the edge of the couch. “Call 9-1-1,” he ordered an anxiously hovering Heather as he placed his fingers over the pulse in Sarah’s neck. Good. Strong and steady. “And get Jess over here, stat!” he called to her retreating figure as she ran out of the room. He could hear her barking orders into the phone as he lifted one of Sarah’s hands to press a kiss into her palm. “Thanks, Tom.” It was a clear dismissal. “You and Kyle wait out in the lobby.”
Tom nodded, and the two men left the room.
“Sarah,” Adam crooned in a low voice, brushing his thumb gently across the pallor of her cheek, “wake up. Open your eyes for me, sweetheart.”
Her eyelids had just fluttered when Jesse arrived, with the EMTs right on his heels. Without a word, Jesse swept Sarah up into his arms then turned and sat on the couch with her on his lap clawing her hair back from her face and pressing a kiss against her temple. “Wake up, baby, wake up.”
“Chief—” The young, good-looking EMT approached, blood pressure cuff in his hand. “We need to—”
“I’m not movin’, Brad,” Jesse said harshly in a voice that brooked no disagreement. Brad just shrugged and knelt in front of the couch. As he hooked the cuff around Sarah’s arm and started squeezing the bulb, Jesse looked at Adam. “What happened, for chrissakes?”
Adam shrugged. “She fainted.”
“I can see that,” Jesse replied acidly. “Why did she faint?”
“Sorry, Jess, I screwed up.”
“How? What’d you do?”
“She was about to give me grief over my staying with her at work today, telling me she didn’t need three bodyguards. So I…I told her about Brian and Lisa.” He spread his hands helplessly. “She fainted. I shouldn’t have said anything—”
“It’s okay. She was going to find out anyway.” He shifted her slightly in his lap so the paramedic could listen to her heart.
“Well, at the very least I should have waited until she was sitting down.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Adam. She’s right. She’s been right all along, and I just didn’t want to see it. I wanted to protect her. But she needs to know what’s goin’ on. She needs to know what these animals are up to, what they’re capable of.”
“Jess—”
He shook his head. “No, hear me out. She needs to know exactly how desperate they are so she can be alert to anything suspicious that we might miss.”
“Jesse—” At the sound of her soft voice, he grabbed her upper arms and pushed her back away from him so he could look into her puzzled gaze.
“Hey, sugar, how’re you feelin’?”
“All right, I guess…”She looked around in confusion. “What happened?”
Brad stood up while his partner secured the latches on their medical kit with two loud snaps. “All her vitals are normal, Chief. She’s fine.” He directed a wink at Sarah. “Take it easy, counselor.”
She just
smiled. “Sure. And you are…”
“No longer needed,” Brad said with a smile.
“You fainted,” Adam said as soon as the EMTs left, hunkering down in front of her to touch her cheek tenderly. “And it’s all my fault. I never should have sprung it on you like that.”
“Sprung what?” She frowned. “Oh. Right. Brian and Lisa.” Anxiety replaced the confusion in her eyes. “Oh, my God, are they okay? Were they hurt?”
Jesse shook his head. “No, baby, they’re fine. Fortunately Jay was doin’ one last patrol before goin’ in for the night, and he spotted the fuckers. He alerted Nik, and they caught ’em red-handed, in the act of assassinatin’ a couple of pillows.” He gave her a couple of pats on the ass. “C’mon, baby, let me up. I need to get back to work. We’re still interrogatin’ the latest prisoners.” He pulled her against him in a hard embrace. “Christ, baby, I love you so much. Please be careful.”
As soon as the room had cleared, Sarah went into her tiny en suite to splash some cold water on her face, comb her hair, and freshen her makeup. When she was done, she went to her desk and fired up her computer.
She was just opening up the file for Neal Richards, the younger of the two brothers being held for murdering Patti Rendell, when Heather came rushing into her office, accompanied by the distinctive odor of fingernail polish. “Sarah,” she said in hushed excitement, “you’re not gonna believe this, the jury’s back!”
Sarah looked up, startled. “What? But…they’ve only been out for”…she looked at her watch…“thirty-seven minutes! That has to be a new record!”
“Nevertheless,” Heather said laconically, blowing on her bright purple nails, “court resumes at three fifteen.”
“How do you think they voted?”
Heather shrugged. “Dunno. But I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say they found him either guilty or innocent.” She waggled her fingers at Sarah. “You like this color? It’s Passion Punch.” She blew on them again. “You think Tucker’ll like it?”
Sarah gathered up some folders and stacked them in her inbox. “I’m sure he loves anything you wear,” she said reassuringly. “Although, he’ll probably like it even better if that’s all you’re wearing when he gets home tonight.”
“Oooh, great idea! I’ll paint my toenails, too! And go buy some lipstick and eye shadow to match. Sort of a theme night, you know?”
Sarah laughed. “While you’re at it, why don’t you paint you nipples, too?”
A look of shocked excitement exploded across Heather’s features. “Oh. My. God.” She gasped. “Sarah, you naughty girl, you! You did not just suggest that to me! Where do you get this stuff? No”—she put up her hand hastily in case Sarah was even considering telling her—“I don’t wanna know. But, holy hell, I’m definitely gonna do it. Tucker will go bananas—especially if I greet him at the door that way. On my knees!” She paused in the doorway. “You know, you’re so much more fun since you hooked up with Jesse and Adam!”
Sarah just chuckled at Heather’s retreating back and went into her en suite one more time to freshen up. By the time she emerged, Adam was standing at her desk, holding her briefcase and laptop in his left hand, ready to escort her to the courtroom. As soon as they emerged through the outer office door, they picked up Tom and Kyle and their odd little procession made its way across the lobby back to the courtroom. She felt like a mother duck leading her ducklings down to the lake. Except her ducklings were really, really big and flanked her like they were conducting a recon patrol through an enemy jungle. And she wasn’t doing the leading. One of the ducklings was.
Harold Sutton and Ray Martinez, were already seated at the defense table. Harold’s head was down as he listened quietly to what Martinez was telling him. For the first time since Sarah had known him, Harold Sutton did not look like a pugnacious bully, spoiling for a fight. Instead, he looked subdued. Sunken in. Almost…deflated.
Sarah took her place at the prosecutor’s table and began removing files from her briefcase. Over the next twenty minutes or so, people filtered back into the courtroom, but no Nora. She’d been conspicuously absent that morning for closing arguments and Sarah was beginning to worry. Where could she be? God, wherever she is, please let her be safe. Sarah was just about to give up on her when Nora stepped into the courtroom, her eyes immediately seeking Sarah’s. Sarah’s hand flew to her mouth to muffle her squeal of surprise. Now that she wasn’t being swallowed up by her clothes—clothes even the Salvation Army would have turned up their noses at—Nora Sutton was drop-dead gorgeous! Dainty and petite, with legs up to there and a figure to die for!
Gone was the matronly bob, replaced by a short, spiky pixie cut, no longer mousy brown, but a deep, rich auburn with caramel and blonde highlights. The smoky eye shadow made her eyes look enormous and her lips shimmered with a deep pink gloss. She was wearing a cotton pique sundress, white with huge yellow and orange flowers on the skirt, and strappy sandals with matching leather flowers across the vamp.
She even walked differently—shoulders back, head high, with a quiet confidence and an energetic spring in her step that had definitely not been there yesterday. Or at any other time over the past seventeen years. As Sarah had been liberated from sexual repression, Nora Sutton had been liberated from physical and emotional repression.
As Nora approached, Sarah grabbed her in a fierce hug. “Oh, my God, woman, you’re drop-dead gorgeous! I almost didn’t recognize you! What a transformation!”
The other ladies scooted over to make a place for her, greeting her with hugs and kisses, exclaiming over her new look.
The court reporter and a couple of clerks entered from their anteroom and went to their stations at the front of the courtroom. Then the bailiff entered. “All rise,” he intoned. “Marshall County Criminal Court is now in session, the honorable Judge Richard P. Walters presiding.”
Everyone rose as the elderly, white-haired judge emerged from his chambers, climbed the steps up to his massive desk, and sat down. He gazed out across the courtroom over the tops of his reading glasses. “I see everyone is present and accounted for.” He turned to the police officer standing at the door of the jury deliberation room. “You may bring in the jury.”
“All rise.”
The jury filed quietly into the jury box, and everyone took their seats. After a couple of short discussions with members of the court staff, the judge turned to the twelve men and women seated in the jury box. “Madam foreperson, have you reached a verdict?”
The young black woman rose and said, “We have, Your Honor.”
“May I please have the verdict?”
She handed the slip of paper to the bailiff, who carried it over and handed it to Judge Walters. He unfolded it, looked at it, and handed it back to the bailiff, who walked it back over to the forewoman.
“In the case of Marshall County vs. Harold Biggins Sutton, on the first count of the indictment, the charge of felony stalking, how do you find?”
“We find the defendant, Harold Biggins Sutton, guilty.”
“On the second count of the indictment, the charge of aggravated assault in the first degree, how do you find?”
“We find the defendant guilty.”
Sarah let out the breath she’d been holding. There was no reaction from Harold Biggins Sutton, except to sink further down into himself, if that was even possible.
“On the third and final count of the indictment, the charge of attempted murder, how do you find?”
“We find the defendant…guilty.”
There was an audible gasp. A murmur went around the courtroom as all eyes seemed to turn to the defendant. Judge Walters looked directly at him. “Harold Sutton, you have been tried and found guilty by a jury of your peers. Sentencing is scheduled for ten a.m. Monday morning. Officers, please take Mr. Sutton into custody.” He turned toward the jurors. “The court would like to thank you for your service. You are dismissed.” The entire courtroom rose as he left the bench and disappeared through the d
oor into his chambers.
Sarah turned to find Nora still seated behind her. She held out her arms and Nora stood up, allowing herself to be embraced. “It’s over, Nora. I know that doesn’t make up for seventeen years of abuse, but at least you know he’ll never hurt you or anyone else ever again. And look at you! You found yourself. A self you never even knew existed. You have a new job, a new apartment, new clothes, and an amazing new look—the future is bright for you. Go out and live it.”
“It’s all your doing,” Nora said, struggling not to cry for fear of ruining her makeup. “If you hadn’t hidden me in that safe house, I’d be dead by now.”
“But I did. And you’re not. So go live your life. Just drop me an email every now and then to let me know how you’re doing.”
“I’ll never be able to repay you, you know,” Nora tried again.
“Here now, none of that.” She pressed her cheek against Nora’s. “You can repay me by being happy.”
As she watched Nora leave, Adam approached and put an arm around her, tucking her against his side. “Congratulations, Counselor.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
“C’mon, Sarah,” Heather called as she passed by the open doorway. “Champagne and cake in the office.”
Adam smiled down at the woman he loved to the bottom of his soul. “Wouldn’t want to miss that.”
“Especially since it’s probably one of Lisa’s cakes.”
It was. A pale yellow cake with a thick center layer of tangy lemon curd, iced with lemon buttercream frosting. As desserts went, it was the perfect accompaniment to the champagne. Sarah graciously accepted the congratulations of her coworkers before they eventually drifted back to their desks or left for the day.
Owning Sarah [Sequel to Loving Sarah] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 32
