by John Foxjohn
Marvin pulled his glasses off and wiped perspiration from his face before he edged back to the front of Kayla’s desk. “Are you okay?”
She didn’t respond for a long time, staring at the ceiling. She wished she’d never met Loren Estes—wished she’d had the guts to quit instead of defending her. That woman had cost her so much, and now, would cost her everything.
Hours later, with everything done, Kayla dragged herself home with Lester in tow. The bodyguard didn’t say anything on the way to Kayla’s house, but Marvin had let him in on what had happened.
Now more on guard than usual because of the extreme danger they thought existed, he checked all the windows and doors before he’d let Kayla advance past the entrance. When he thundered downstairs, he asked if she wanted to order some pizzas. At least they had that in common.
Kayla tried to smile, but couldn’t. She wondered where Darren was. She’d tried to call him but got his voicemail. She wouldn’t try again. He knew where she was. “You go ahead and order what you want. I’m not hungry.” She opened her purse and took out a fifty. “This should be enough for your pizza. If it isn’t, let me know.”
She closed her eyes for a long moment. “I’m going to bed.”
“Ms. Kayla, you haven’t ate all day. This isn’t good for you.”
“I’ll eat tomorrow or maybe the next day. It doesn’t matter.”
He laid his giant hand on hers. “It matters to me and a whole lot of people.”
* * * *
Darren rolled his window down to let a breeze inside as he guarded outside Kayla’s home. Even with Lester inside, he couldn’t leave her now. He had no idea what she’d do tomorrow, but the danger had intensified. Their only hope was if the murderer didn’t know they had the laptop.
If she made it through this night, everything would be okay. She had to make it.
He wanted to call her, ring the doorbell, and take her in his arms and tell her that he loved her. He thought she had the same feelings for him, but it wouldn’t work. If he broke it off now before it began, then neither would have to worry about hurting the other.
This wasn’t the path she might choose or want, and Kayla knew nothing about it. It wasn’t the path he wanted to take, either. After his first failed marriage, he didn’t want to get hurt again.
He scooted down in his seat when headlights flashed in his rear window. With the car easing up behind him, he tensed, hand resting on his gun. He remained tense as it passed, stopped, and moved on a little way. He breathed a relieved sigh when the car pulled into a driveway on the right and a man and woman approached the door of the house two down from Kayla’s.
Hours passed with cars coming by, but no suspicious ones. No one walked in the neighborhood. He didn’t need to worry about the back of the house. He’d called John Sutherland and the private detective and another person watched the back.
With Lester on the inside, John in the back, and him in front, they should have it covered, but he wouldn’t relax.
He had to fight to stay awake, and at times, his eyelids drooped for a second, but he drank coffee from a thermos. When he didn’t believe he could stay awake, he eased out of the car and stood in the shadows across from Kayla’s.
He didn’t know if she slept or not because her bedroom light in the second floor never went out. Knowing her, she worked there on what she planned to say and do the next day.
Whatever she decided, it would tear her apart.
When he stayed at his room instead of going with Marvin, he’d placed himself outside the planning and decisions.
He stayed because he didn’t believe he could face Kayla then.
As time dragged by, he found that he had to spend more time outside to stay awake. At last, he gave up and leaned against a tree. At six-thirty, a bathroom light went on. It surprised him when he glanced at his watch. Normally, she woke earlier and ran on the treadmill, but if she hadn’t by now, she didn’t plan to run this morning.
He didn’t blame her. Her day would wear her out enough.
* * * *
At eight-fifteen, Darren hurried through the crowd at Bush Intercontinental Airport. As he waited in the long line for a ticket, he rubbed his sandpaper eyes, wishing he had something to take for his throbbing head. The line inched forward. Pick up the luggage, take two steps, put it down.
He’d come to Houston without any sleep on an airplane and he’d leave the same way. However, when he came he ran to something—now he ran away.
His thoughts scared him to the core of his soul—running away.
No, that wasn’t right. Never in his life had he run from anyone or anything—he wasn’t running away. Any man in his situation would do the same thing. He was in a no-win situation and the only way to prevent anyone from getting hurt was for him to leave. This was best for Kayla, too.
Besides, his job had ended—both of them.
“Hey, move up.” Darren shook his head, grabbed his bags, and shuffled forward.
When he finally arrived at the counter, he laid his credit card down. “I need your next available to Chicago.”
The clerk keyed the information into her computer, frowned, and turned back to Darren. “Our next flight out with availability is at seven-fifteen tonight. If you need to get there earlier, we can put you on standby.”
He took a deep breath. “Give me the one at seven-fifteen.”
Minutes later, ticket in hand, he lugged his bags to the front. He’d checked out of his motel and had no place to go. He hailed a taxi and told the driver to take him to the nearest hotel. He’d get some sleep and eat before he left.
He woke at three-thirty with bad breath, two five o’clock shadows, and a stiff back. When he showered, shaved, and put on fresh clothes, he turned the TV on but couldn’t find anything he wanted to watch. What he needed was a drink. He called the bar and had them send up a bottle of bourbon.
He trudged down the hall and loaded up his ice bucket, and when he returned to his room, the bourbon arrived.
Thirty minutes later, he perched at the desk in his room looking at the amber liquid in the bottle. He opened it and took a large swig. The whiskey burned on the way down, hit bottom, and became an inferno—making him realize he hadn’t eaten all day.
After taking another gulp and enduring the fire, he realized why he didn’t drink much. What was wrong with him? He never acted like this. He rested his feet on his desk and leaned back, eyes closed. Kayla would still be at the office working. He pictured her at her desk, pen twirling in her left hand, the crinkles at the corner of her eyes.
Her smile flashed in his mind, the way her mouth turned up, and the gleam in her eyes. Did she think about him?
Why would she? He ran out on her when she needed him, and she’d know it. Would she consider him a coward? A rusty knife ripped his guts out at the thought. Would she think he deserted her? No, she was too practical. She’d understand.
He lumbered to the sink and got a glass. He needed to dilute the whiskey or he wouldn’t be able to catch his flight. Was that the real reason he ordered the whiskey? Coward boomed in his head. His hands shook as he filled the glass with ice, poured in whiskey, and filled the rest of the glass with water, stirring with a finger.
He took a drink, ice clinking, and looked at the glass for a long time. The truth was, he could try to justify it any way he wanted, but he ran like a coward. He had to come to grips with his fears. He believed McMasters’ threat to be real, but no man alive scared him. Kayla did. Not physically, but he was afraid to be hurt again.
Coward, coward, coward. He tilted the glass to drink, paused, and hurled it across the room.
THIRTY
When Kayla stumbled down the stairs, she found Lester awake and on guard. She put her hands on her hips. “You didn’t sleep last night?”
He rose. “No, ma’am, none of us did.”
She cocked her head and examined him a second. “What do you mean none of you slept last night?”
“Ah—ma’a
m, some people guarded the front and back last night but you aren’t supposed to know that, so don’t tell them I told you.”
She should be mad at them and thought about going out and giving them a piece of her mind—not for standing guard, but because they didn’t tell her so she could sleep. On the other hand, she wouldn’t have slept anyway. She smiled, “I won’t tell them you told me.”
At eight, Kayla and Lester headed to the courthouse. As she drove, she passed Darren’s rental car but didn’t see him. She figured he must be asleep in it and thought about stopping but didn’t.
At nine, the judge called the jury in and Kayla remained standing to call her first witness, but Proctor sat, arms crossed, pouting.
“Your Honor, the defense calls Lieutenant Douglass Faraway.”
The whispered buzz circulated through the courtroom until the bailiff escorted the witness in. Everyone in the courtroom knew what Kayla had in store for him, and he did, too. He crept in like someone waiting for the gallows.
When the judge swore him in, Kayla asked him his name, occupation, and his duty assignment, although everyone knew it.
She had to force herself to concentrate on this witness. She thought she had this case won, and she would after the next witness, but this one had an importance, too, in the entire scheme of things. One thing her father always said and she’d found true, people never knew what a jury would do. She had to guard against overconfidence.
Her next witness would blow this trial wide open and send her already dilapidated life into shambles. But before she called the next one, she needed to focus on the present witness.
“Lieutenant Faraway, how long were you and your wife married?”
He answered with his head down. “Eleven years.”
“Did she know about your affair with Chandra Livingston and that she carried your child?”
He mumbled, “To the best of my knowledge, she did not know.”
“Why were the two of you separated?”
He held his hands out to the side. “We just had some problems we needed to work out, that’s all.”
She narrowed her eyes and glared at him a moment. He attempted to meet her gaze, but dropped his. “These problems you’re talking about had nothing to do with the fact that you were seeing another woman for over a year and your lover was pregnant with your child?”
“No. I told you that Patricia did not know about that.”
Kayla glanced down at her laptop for a moment and read his words. “Lieutenant Faraway, I don’t want to argue the point with you, but you didn’t say she didn’t know. You said to the best of your knowledge she didn’t know. Did she know, or didn’t she?”
“She did not know. I’m positive.”
“Okay, fair enough. Were you planning on marrying Chandra Livingston?”
“No, I’d have helped her take care of the baby, but Chandra understood that Patricia would not give me a divorce.”
“Lieutenant Faraway, had you asked your wife for a divorce?”
At this point, Proctor objected to a question without evidence in admission, but Kayla reminded the judge that the witness had brought up the divorce. Ballard looked at his laptop a moment and overruled the objection.
“No, I hadn’t because we had discussed it and I knew she’d never give me one.”
“Lieutenant Faraway, did this discussion with your wife about divorces come up during your affairs before Chandra Livingston?”
His head snapped up and his lips tightened. “What the hell are you talking about? There wasn’t any other affair. You don’t have a clue and you can’t prove that.”
Kayla leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. “I’m going to give you one warning, Lieutenant. You’re under oath in a court of law. I may not have a clue, but does the name Samantha Case ring a bell? How about Susan Myers or Deborah Epstein? Are you sure you want to let your last testimony stand?”
His head dropped and he mumbled. He said, “No” when Judge Ballard asked him to speak up.
Kayla paused for a long moment, deciding how to proceed with her next question. At last, she took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Lieutenant Faraway, is it your testimony here in court that your wife did not know about Chandra Livingston, and she wouldn’t divorce you under any circumstances?”
She wasn’t surprised when Proctor objected under the grounds that the witness had already answered these questions. In his place, Kayla may have objected, too. But Judge Ballard, to her surprise, overruled the objection, saying that Kayla simply tried to clarify his answer.
“Ma’am,” Faraway said, “Let me make it perfectly clear to you. Patricia did not know about Chandra and she had told me many times that she’d not grant me a divorce. Is this plain enough for you?”
Kayla tapped her fingers on the table for a long moment, pausing for effect as the jurors glanced from the witness to her. “Yes, it is, Lieutenant—however, there’s something that isn’t plain enough for me. If what you say is true, why did your wife see her attorney two days prior to her murder with the intent of filing for divorce on the grounds of infidelity?”
He banged his fists on the chair arms. “That’s not true.”
“Lieutenant. You’re digging a hole for yourself.” Kayla turned to Judge Ballard. “Sir, I have given this witness a warning about his testimony under oath. I’d now like for the court to instruct this witness about the penalty for perjury.”
Faraway glared at the judge as Ballard instructed him that he had sworn an oath to tell the truth and if he perjured himself on the stand, the court would file criminal charges against him.
Deathwatch silence prevailed in the courtroom as the judge issued the warning to Faraway.
“Once again, Lieutenant Faraway, why did your wife see her attorney two days prior to her murder with the intent of filing for divorce on the grounds of infidelity?”
“She found out about Chandra and we had a huge fight over it and separated. I wanted to get back with her, but in the end, she decided to file for divorce.”
“Lieutenant Faraway, did she in fact tell you that she intended to go to your supervisors with the knowledge that you had an affair with an officer under your immediate supervisory capacity?”
For the first time since he entered the courtroom, Lieutenant Douglass Faraway did what any smart person would do under the circumstances. He turned to Judge Ballard and invoked his Fifth Amendment right.
Judge Ballard dismissed him from the stand and explained to the jury what had taken place. In many ways, Faraway’s actions relieved Kayla. By invoking his rights, he stopped the questions she had to ask but didn’t want to. She got no pleasure at all in doing what she did to Chandra Livingston and now to Faraway.
His actions also told the jury more than any questions she could ask.
Kayla was sorry for him in one regard, but the fact that this man had repeatedly cheated on his wife hit too close to home for her. She had believed that he killed his wife and used his influence in the department and the homicide division to get away with it. From the first, she had suspected this man of the murder, if in fact, Loren Estes hadn’t done it.
Many times she’d wavered between whether Loren did it or not. Some things still didn’t coincide with Loren Estes, but now, she knew without any doubt who killed Michelle McCrery.
When Faraway left the courtroom, Kayla hung her head, eyes closed. As if in a dream, Ballard’s words reverberated, “Ms. Nugent, you may call your next witness.” She didn’t move or respond as chills surged through her.
Loren asked Marvin what had happened, but he did not respond to her. He stood and placed both hands on Kayla’s shoulders as tears seeped out, splattering on the table in front her.
Marvin asked Ballard for a brief recess and the judge, with a concerned expression, granted it. When everyone filed out of the courtroom except the people at the defense table, Marvin asked Loren to leave the two of them alone.
She glared at him. “You’re not my attorney. You�
�re Kayla’s assistant. I demand to know what’s going on.”
Marvin pushed up his glasses. “I need to talk to Kayla in private. That is what’s going on. We have worked our butts off to get you acquitted of these charges. Now, you will get out of here. Do you understand me?”
When Loren flounced out, he settled beside Kayla, hand resting on her arm. After several quiet minutes, they talked.
Kayla appreciated his efforts and support. Without him, she couldn’t have made it this far. When everyone began filing back in, she was as normal as she could be under the circumstances.
“Ms. Nugent, are you prepared to call your next witness?” Ballard asked.
Still she hesitated. Eyes closed, lips trembling, shivers burst out all over her.
“Ms. Nugent, are you prepared to call your next witness?”
Kayla raised her head and opened her eyes—taking a deep breath to the oppressive courtroom silence. “Yes, Your Honor, I am.”
THIRTY-ONE
Kayla’s lips trembled. “Your honor, the defense calls Jimmy Randall.”
The bailiff left and moments later returned with Kayla’s best friend, Jimmy. They’d put off serving him with the subpoena until that morning. He’d called her several times but she didn’t answer or return his calls.
Now, as the bailiff escorted him in, he stopped at the defense table and asked, “Kayla, what’s going on? Why am I here?”
Kayla didn’t answer and couldn’t look at him. When he didn’t move, the bailiff caught his arm and escorted him to the stand where Judge Ballard swore him in.
Marvin leaned over to Kayla. “If you want, I can handle this.”
She shook her head and her voice quivered. “I have to do this.”
She should’ve seen it from the start—especially the voice on the phone—the reason the words sounded familiar.
At last, she looked up at Jimmy on the stand. “Mr. Randall, would you please tell the court your occupation?”
Jimmy didn’t respond and the judge told him to answer the question.
