“But won’t he...I mean, won’t he think there’s something wrong?”
“Oh, please! I love him like crazy but when it comes to domestic bliss? The rest of that mansion outside his workshop could cease to exist and he wouldn’t even notice. As long as I go down there and dance for him a few times a week he probably won’t even notice I’ve moved out.”
“You still do that? Dance for him?”
She flushed and nodded. “Anyway, I can stay there a few nights a week and he can come to the apartment the other nights. It’ll do him good to get out of there. And no more garden parties!”
I pulled her close again. “If you want to really keep it real, you can come eat instant noodles with me at the end of the month, like the old days. And those chocolate desserts they sell off cheap because they’re out of date.”
She squeezed me. “Let’s not go overboard.”
***
Eyes straight ahead.
Ryan kept his hand on my shoulder as we walked in and took our seats. My friends took their places in the public gallery. I watched as the room filled up: lawyers, police...and then there was an ominous silence and the metal clatter of a handcuff chain.
Eyes straight ahead.
The judge walked in, a man in his sixties with a thin, sour face. We rose and sat again.
“State your name for the record,” the clerk ordered.
And I heard my dad say his name. I knew he was a good distance away from me but it sounded as if he was close enough to touch me. Close enough to grab me.
Eyes straight ahead.
***
They started with the opening statements: how my dad was a notorious and feared criminal whose capacity for cruelty was matched only by his greed; how he was an upstanding pillar of the local community who helped families in need and was the victim of a vindictive group of cops and former cops.
His lawyer was good. He had a whole little conspiracy theory about how the Chicago PD had been the ones exploiting my dad, extorting money from him under threats of violence and using his bar to conduct their shady deals. And of course there was plenty of evidence that did indeed show money flowing from my dad to the cops. Spun the right way, it actually backed up his claims. The lawyer made out that my dad was the little guy, crushed by a corrupt police department—and everyone loves an underdog.
He might actually get away with this, I realized in horror.
My dad’s business had been conducted with handshakes and cash, nothing ever written down. Beatings had always been carried out behind closed doors, after the customers had gone home. Killings were done out in the woods. Even after years of violence, there was precious little actual evidence.
Which meant it came down to me.
***
“State your name for the record,” the clerk said.
I opened my mouth to say Jasmine.
“Emma MacGinnis,” I said. “But I changed it three years ago to Jasmine Kane.”
I was presented with a bible. I put my hand on it, shocked at how cold it felt, like a solid block of stone. I raised my hand. I’d watched countless legal thrillers and these had always just seemed like words. They didn’t, anymore.
“Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” asked the clerk.
“I do.”
The counsel for the prosecution approached me, a friendly, sandy-haired guy in a dark blue suit, too smart to be over-confident when faced with someone like my dad. I liked him. He’d told me what to expect.
“Miss Kane,” he began. “What relation are you to the defendant?”
I swallowed. I thought of all those years of barely-concealed hate. Of how I’d tried, age six, to dye my hair black by soaking it in the toilet, into which I’d put the innards of all my black felt-tip pens.
Eyes straight ahead. But I could feel them being drawn across the courtroom until they finally settled on...him. Gray-haired and smug, as if he was sitting on a throne.
“He’s my step father,” I said. “I don’t know who my real father is.”
The attorney nodded solemnly. “And could you start by describing your childhood?”
I opened my mouth and no words came. The courtroom seemed to expand, a space at least a mile across filled with a million people.
“Take your time,” the attorney said.
I told them. He asked questions to clarify, but mostly he just let me speak. I didn’t embellish or exaggerate. I didn’t have to.
“And did the abuse change as you got older?” the attorney asked.
“Yes.”
The attorney looked at me with pain in his eyes. Apologizing for what he was about to ask me to do. “And was there one night in particular that marked this change?”
I swallowed. “Yes there was.” I found Ryan in the crowd and focused on him as the rest of the room started to swim.
“Would you tell us, in your own words, what happened that night?”
I nodded.
And began.
***
There was crying coming from the jury when I’d finished. One woman was doing a soft little sob and I heard a guy—I think it was a guy but I couldn’t look—cursing repeatedly under his breath.
I risked a glance at Ryan, then at my friends in the gallery. Clarissa, Karen, and Nat had their hands all tightly bunched into one hard knot in Karen’s lap. Neil, Darrell, and Connor looked as if they were going to throw up. It was the first time they’d heard it direct from me.
“Miss Kane? Would you like something? Some tissues?” It was the attorney.
“What? Why would I need tissues?” Then I heard it in my voice, but it was too late.
“You’re crying, Miss Kane.”
I hadn’t even realized, but then I felt the hot drips fall onto the collar of my blouse. I was wet right down my cheeks.
“Do you need a minute?” the attorney asked.
He would ask for a recess, and it would go on even longer.
“No,” I said, forcing my voice level. “I’m fine.”
He asked about the period between the rape and the murder. And then he got to the murder itself. I confirmed that Oaks was a regular. That I knew he was a crooked cop, taking money from my dad. That my dad beat him in the back room because Oaks had wanted to go straight and stop taking the bribes. And I talked about the garbage bags on the back seat and the shovels and the shotgun. And my brother.
“And what did your step-father do them, Miss Kane?” the attorney asked.
I spoke very clearly and precisely. “He shot Officer Oaks in the back of the head. And then he told my brother and me to bury him.”
The attorney gave me a deep nod of gratitude. “No further questions, your honor.”
***
The defending attorney gave me a little smile as he stepped forward to do the cross-examination. An its okay smile. An I won’t hurt you smile. An I know what you’ve been through and I won’t put you through anything more smile.
Like a fool, I believed him. I think I actually gave him a tiny, hopeful smile in response.
“Miss Kane, what’s your profession?” he asked.
“I’m a student at Fenbrook Academy of Performing Arts.”
“Studying?”
“Acting.”
“But you already have a job, don’t you? A role? On quite a big TV show?”
I blinked. This wasn’t going where I was expecting it to go. “Yes, that’s true.”
“So when I asked you a moment ago what your profession was, a more accurate answer would have been that you’re an actress.”
I hesitated. Now it felt as if I’d lied. “Um. Yes.”
He paused to let this sink in. “The show you’re in is produced by A.K. Dixon, is that right?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“He’s very highly regarded, as I understand it.” He turned to the jury. “He’s the guy who created Foxtrot Company, that show that won all the Emmys.”
The jury no
dded, interested. And, crucially, grateful to him for explaining.
“So it’s reasonable to assume that he only picks the very best actresses to work with?” he asked. “And that therefore you are a very good actress?” He smiled.
I blushed. I couldn’t help it. “I—I guess.”
He nodded, still smiling. “Can you cry on cue?”
I blinked. “I—Yes.”
There was a murmuring from the jury. I saw, too late, what he’d done. “I mean, if the role demands it. If I’m acting!”
He nodded, brushing it away as if it wasn’t important. I glanced at Ryan, terrified. He was staring straight back at me, ashen-faced.
“Earlier, you told us how Mr. MacGinnis threatened to use you as a sort of bargaining tool—essentially, prostitute you.” He emphasized the word, as if to indicate it was absurd.
“Yes,” I said tightly. I was on the defensive, now.
“You would never consider doing that willingly, of course,” he said. “Selling your body.”
“No! Of course not!”
He brought out a thick wad of paper and passed it to the front most member of the jury, indicating that he should hand them out. I couldn’t see it too well from where I was sitting, but it seemed to be a photocopy of a printed page, with a photo.
Then he handed me my copy and my heart fell straight through the floor.
It was my file from the escort agency. Complete with a scan of my driving license and the details of the sex acts I was prepared to do for money.
I wanted to throw up. And then I looked at Ryan and saw his face. He was fighting to control his expression, but I could see the anger there, the horror. I hadn’t told him about the agency. It had never really happened—Karen had rescued me in time and I’d never been with a client. I thought he’d never need to know.
I looked up at the public gallery. Clarissa. Nat. Connor. Darrell. Neil.
All my friends now knew I’d been a prostitute.
“I can explain!” I croaked. That’s what guilty people always say in movies. “It’s not how it—” It’s not how it looks?! That’s what they say, too! “It was only for one night! I changed my mind! I left!”
The attorney passed around a second sheet of paper. “This page from the agency’s files shows your employment record. Can you please read what it says under ‘Employment ended’?”
I stared at the page. “There’s no date,” I said stupidly.
“Indicating that the agency still employs you.”
“No! I left!” I hesitated. “I never actually quit!” That murmur from the jury again. “I was too humiliated! I’d changed my mind! I just stopped returning their calls and eventually they stopped calling!” My voice died away. My explanation sounded ridiculous, even though it was the truth.
It hit me that I’d just lost my chance on Blue & Red. I was now branded as an escort, forever. No show would want to be associated with me. He’d just obliterated my career, as well as destroying my credibility as a witness.
“Miss Kane.” The attorney sounded as if he was reluctantly disciplining a wayward child. “Your brother, Nicholas MacGinnis, has been staying with you in New York, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Nicholas suffers from a drug problem—heroin, specifically, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“But isn’t it true that you sought him out recently in New York, after years of separation?”
“Yes,” I said warily.
“Because you’d concocted a plan to extort money from your father, with the help of several Chicago police officers. Isn’t it true that you and your brother persuaded your father to come to New York under threat that you would testify against him in a murder you knew he was innocent of? That your father pleaded with you to see sense? That he tried to get your brother into rehab but that your brother refused and is out there, right now, on the streets of New York, while you try to hold your plan together? Using every ounce of your acting skills, feeding the jury a tale of rape and abuse you knew would win you sympathy before accusing him of a murder actually perpetrated by the same group of Chicago and New York police officers who are setting him up? A group you yourself have recently become involved with?”
“No!” I screamed.
“Miss Kane, are you currently single?”
I swallowed. “No.”
“May I ask: what is the profession of your current lover?”
“Objection!” yelled the prosecuting attorney. “Irrelevant!”
The judge hesitated. “I’m going to allow it.”
The defending attorney turned to me. “You’re under oath, Miss Kane.”
I closed my eyes. “He’s a police officer,” I said weakly.
Chapter 71
Ryan
Jasmine stumbled from the witness box. I grabbed her arm as soon as she got close enough and pulled her to me. The judge called a recess and everyone headed for the door.
I could feel the jury’s eyes on us as we left. We were the ones under scrutiny, now. We were the ones they’d be thinking about. Us. Not the man on the stand...
As soon as I got Jasmine into a quiet corner, I pulled her in front of me. “Are you alright?!”
She looked up at me with huge, shamed eyes. I immediately wanted to take the defending attorney and ram his face into the floor. No one was allowed to make her feel like that. No one. “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” I told her.
She glanced fearfully over my shoulder. The others were approaching, wanting to help. I waved them away.
“It was only one time,” she said, her voice pleading. “Just one time. I didn’t even do anything! Ask Karen! She was there!”
I put my hand up to her face and cupped her cheek. “I don’t need to ask Karen. I believe you.”
She shook her head. “I saw how you looked at me when it came out,” she whispered. “Angry and disgusted.” And she turned her head from me.
I winced inside. God, that’s what she thought? I pushed her gently but firmly up against the wall. “Hey. Hey!” I twisted until I managed to get my face in front of hers. “Not with you! I was mad, and disgusted—with him! The attorney.”
She finally met my eyes. “Really?” she asked in a strangled voice.
“Really.”
She gave a gasp of relief and wrapped her arms around me. I pulled her close and cradled her to my chest. I wanted to never let her go. I wanted to never let anyone have a chance to hurt her again.
“He’s going to get away with it,” she mumbled into my chest.
“We don’t know that,” I told her. “You’ve done everything you can. Let’s go home.” We didn’t have to stay for the rest of the trial, now that she’d testified.
She pushed back from me and shook her head. “I have to see this through.” She looked up at me, her eyes huge and scared. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep, if he’s set free. I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to sleep again.”
I gazed at her, this beautiful, fragile woman I’d sworn I’d protect. I couldn’t let her be haunted by this for the rest of her life, but we only had one more person on our side.
And that meant there was only one thing I could do.
“I’ve got to find Nick,” I told her. “Find him and bring him back here so he can back up your testimony.”
Her eyes grew even wider. “How?! He could be anywhere!”
“I’m a cop,” I told her. “This is what I do. But going after him means leaving you.” My hands tightened on her waist. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone, right when she needed me most.
She shook her head. “I’ve got the others. And they can’t find Nick. You can. Go.”
We hugged for a long, long time. I buried my face in her hair and drank in that sweet, wildflower scent, recharging me until I could see her again.
I left her with the others, beginning the difficult explanation of why and how she’d briefly become an escort. Karen was by her side, telling
her parts, and the other two girls were hugging them. From the look of it, they’d be okay.
Then I turned and headed for the door, resisting the urge to look back. If I looked back, I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave.
***
It took me a good chunk of that day to drive back to New York. There was only one more day of the trial to go and I’d have to get Nick back to Chicago. I had less than twenty four hours to find him.
I figured that Jasmine’s dad must have stashed Nick in New York, since he’d been there when he was arrested. But that was a lot of territory to cover.
I didn’t have any jurisdiction to interfere with the Chicago investigation, but a missing person right here in our own city? No one could stop me looking into that. And, luckily, I had friends to call on.
“Jasmine?” Charlie C asked, when I approached him. “Your Jasmine? From the bar?” His face grew dark. “What do you need?”
I rounded up Hooper and Julio, too, and put them to work cross-referencing Jasmine’s dad with dealers in New York. Our theory was that he’d have passed Nick off to one of them, giving them cash to keep Nick high and out of sight for a few weeks. But there were a lot of small-time dealers in New York. It was going to take days.
When we’d been at it a few hours, the captain appeared...and he looked mad. “Kowalski!” he snapped. “You got these guys working on some personal assignment? When you’re barely back from leave?”
I looked at the other three. “Yessir,” I said.
He stared at me. “This has something to do with that actress you’re seeing?” he asked. I could see it in his eyes: he was wondering if I was finally moving on, after Hux.
“Yes sir,” I said firmly.
He nodded. “Take as much time as you need.”
***
After hours of going through files and building up a list of possibilities, I got into my uniform and we hit the streets. At midnight, fueled by pizza and coffee, we were still going. We barged our way into dealers’ houses, claiming we’d had anonymous tips. We kicked down the doors of their crack houses and picked up their underlings in the street, until they had no choice but to talk to us. Six times, it looked as if guns were going to be pulled on us and, if I hadn’t been able to keep my anger in check, I don’t think we would have made it out alive. But every time, we talked our way out of it through a mixture of threats and promises.
Acting Brave (Fenbrook Academy #3 - New Adult Romance) Page 41
