He shrugged. His gaze drifted back to Jaime, who had stepped off the treadmill on the side farthest from him.
“Answer your phone,” she said. “I’m leaving anyway.”
“No need.” Not when he had someone more interesting standing in front of him. Rianna represented his past. Could Jaime be his future?
The thought ricocheted through him with the force of an IED. He felt exposed in a way he didn’t like.
He frowned, then leaned forward to play with his phone, anything to break the direction of his thoughts. He upped the speed on the treadmill until his legs were pumping at about his capacity. This was what he needed. A pounding so intense it forced his focus to stay on the treadmill.
“You okay?” There was something like concern on her face as Jaime watched him.
“It’s not every day you get a call from your ex-wife.”
Her expression turned to confusion. “You’re married?”
“Ex-wife. Not anymore.” The words hurt, but not like they used to. “Let’s just say while I was stationed overseas my wife decided she was too lonely to wait.”
“I’m . . . sorry that happened.”
“Not your fault.” He tried to keep the words light.
“But I can hate you came home to that.”
There was something healing in her words and the way she acknowledged the pain of his experience. “Thank you.”
This time it was her phone that buzzed. She glanced at it, and the color drained from her face.
“My turn to ask if you’re okay.”
“I will be, but I need to get to court. Enjoy your workout.” She pivoted and hurried toward the door with a quick look over her shoulder.
He shouldn’t have mentioned his divorce, not now. That would always be part of his story, but maybe it wasn’t wise to lead with it. Oh well, he couldn’t unsay it.
He upped his intensity level to the crazy level and then kept it there for fifteen more minutes . . . as if he could sweat her from his system.
CHAPTER 16
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 9
Jaime walked across the parking lot to the courthouse, butterflies flying in anything but formation. Dane was waiting within for the first hearing related to her charges. Mitch’s text had thrown her into an adrenaline-laced rush. Somehow the email he’d sent her with details on the hearing had gotten hung up in his out-box.
The thought of seeing Dane made her feel like an eight-year-old girl begging her mother not to take her to his home. If she could live those days over again, there were so many things she’d do differently. She’d tell her mom why she didn’t want to go. If that didn’t work, she’d tell her teacher. Someone would have understood what she struggled to put into words and helped her escape.
Today would be different. She’d be in the safety of a courtroom. This was her world, not his. And she’d have someone on her side this time, someone who knew the full story.
She forced a bravery she didn’t feel into her steps. If she was supposed to fake it until she made it, she’d be faking a very long time. Maybe into the next century.
You’ve got this, Jaime.
Only she didn’t.
At moments like this she wished she could believe in God like her friends did. Hayden’s faith was this natural extension of her life. Caroline’s flowed from her in bubbly streams. Emilie’s might be quieter, but it was a bedrock when life shifted—as it had done significantly last year when her friend was being stalked. But anytime Jaime dared to consider it, she couldn’t escape the reality that God had not bothered to intervene for her when she was an innocent girl.
She wasn’t doing badly on her own.
If she ignored the nightmares.
She’d known a recurrence was a risk when she moved forward in her plan to bring Dane to justice, but she hadn’t expected to relive the abuse every night. It was like her mind had reverted to being that child who felt out of control, alone, and so scared.
Was it better to yank the Band-Aid off all at once or let it slowly peel back?
Neither felt good.
She lifted her face to the sun and let it warm her even as a chill breeze blew across her shoulders and down her neck. If she wanted to arrive in time, she needed to pick up her pace.
The white stone building towered above the cityscape in the bustling area squeezed between Rosslyn and Clarendon. The courthouse area continued to evolve and pulse with the energy of a hipster locale crammed into a few square blocks. Unlike Old Town Alexandria, this part of Arlington was relatively new, with the courthouse opening in 1994 and many of the buildings around it cropping up after 2000. A slight detour across the paved courtyard led to the movie theater. Turn a little farther and one could slip into the Metro system and be whisked to any corner of the larger DC area. Hayden and Emilie could have Old Town. Jaime liked the energy of these more urban spaces.
And right now she needed that energy to propel her through the metal detector and to the courtroom. This preliminary hearing should be routine, with the CA presenting evidence to establish probable cause for the charges to proceed. Then it would be a grand jury. She’d likely testify at both, since she was the only evidence other than her journal.
The thought had her stomach churning. If it had been so hard to talk to her parents, what would it be like to share her blackest moments with strangers?
She walked down the hallway and took the elevator to the courtroom floor, striding past other attorneys without really noticing them. The civil attorneys wouldn’t recognize her unless they’d had reason to appear in criminal court. Most wouldn’t dirty their hands.
When she entered the courtroom it was empty, not even a bailiff or clerk lurking in a corner. Then her eyes adjusted to the light and she noticed a man. From across the room, she knew it was Dane. Even seated, the way he held himself reinforced his confidence that he was in control.
She turned to leave. She’d check the hallway for Mitch, then poke her head into the judge’s office.
“I wouldn’t leave.” His voice echoed with authority in the vacant space.
“Why?” She forced the tremble from her voice.
“Because I arranged this time to talk to you.”
“Really?” He couldn’t do that. Not when a preliminary hearing was required by law.
“The judge is one of my golf buddies.”
“Of course. Thanks for the information. I’ll be sure to request a change of judge.”
His gray gaze bored into her. He gestured to the courtroom. “This isn’t going to accomplish a thing.”
“Other than seek justice for what you did to me.”
“You think this will resolve whatever your twisted mind thinks happened?”
“I do.”
“Then you are more delusional than I thought.” He eased to his feet in a catlike move, unnerving in its smoothness. Shouldn’t he be getting creaky in his advanced years? “No one will believe your allegations.”
“The Commonwealth’s Attorney already does.” She wanted to glance around but kept her eyes locked on Dane. Where was Mitch?
“Everyone knows that cases like this are Lacy’s mission in life. It would be easy enough to sway her your direction.”
“No swaying needed.” Jaime felt the blackness pinpricking the light. No, she wouldn’t let him see her weakness. She forced words from her parched throat. “They sensed the truth.”
“Then you’ll start a war.” His eyes were lit with a fire that would consume her if she didn’t get away. “There are things you don’t comprehend.”
“You’re right.” Her lungs threatened to stop working, her breath coming in the barest sips. “I’ll never understand how you could molest an innocent child.”
“I didn’t do anything to you.” His gaze was unflinching.
“I’m leaving.” She turned and walked deliberately toward the door, when what she wanted to do was sprint. Put as much distance between them as she could. She felt the light-headed sensation that signaled a panic a
ttack.
“One last thing.” His voice commanded her to stop with so much authority he might as well have shouted.
“Yes?” She didn’t turn around, couldn’t turn around.
“If you continue, I will destroy you.”
“I’m not your soldier. I don’t follow your orders and won’t be cowed by your threats.”
“That makes you easier to break.”
Jaime tipped her chin, squared her shoulders, and pushed the door open. She had worked too hard to now allow this man to reenter her mind and psyche, but she felt his presence as if tendrils had latched into her soul. She kept moving. Where was Mitch? He wasn’t in the hallway, so she quickly entered the office for circuit court and waited for the judge’s assistant, Marlene, to finish a phone call.
The woman looked at her and did a double take. “You okay, Jaime? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, hon.”
A ghost. That was a good way to describe Dane. A man who was a part of her terrible, dark night of the soul, but not a being who could hurt her now. She wasn’t a little girl anymore.
“Is the judge ready for the hearing?”
Marlene shook her head, dangly earrings jangling. “No. I called your office to let you know it had to be postponed. An emergency hearing cropped up.” She glanced at her desk and tugged a file free from the pile, then slid it toward Jaime. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes.”
“The defendant was in here asking questions. Guess he doesn’t plan to hire an attorney. Seems to think he can snap his fingers and make it go away.”
“He has that ability at his job.”
“Last time I checked, he wasn’t the judge.” Marlene crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back with attitude. “Anyway, thought you’d want to know he’s unrepresented.”
“Does he know the judge personally?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Why?”
“He said they were golf buddies.”
“Then he doesn’t know this judge. She hates golf.”
“Good. I didn’t want to change judges anyway.”
“Um-hum.” The phone rang, and Marlene glanced at it. “This thing has been ringing all day. Mitch will let you know when we reschedule, probably tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Marlene.”
She knew Marlene was right. She had to count the cost of this lawsuit. She wanted to finally hold Dane accountable for what he’d done to her. She wanted him to acknowledge the ways she had paid for that violation through high school and college, and still did today with her fear of relationships.
Family was supposed to love and protect you. Yet he hadn’t. How could she risk love with anyone else?
Ignoring the elevator, Jaime slipped down the stairs and stopped in an alcove on the first floor to pull up her work calendar on her phone. There were meetings and hearings coming up, some related to the Alexander Parron case. It wouldn’t hurt to stop by the PD’s office to check on things and make sure Evan didn’t have any questions. Maybe her boss would realize how much he needed her and be ready to lift this ridiculous leave. A woman could hope. And it was better than risking seeing Dane on his way out of the court.
CHAPTER 17
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 9
Chandler poured over another intake form. It was lunchtime, and his stomach was grumbling, but one of his clients no longer needed services, so he had a slot to fill. For each person who graduated from one of the vet center programs, four more waited to enter. How was he supposed to divine which one to move from the waiting list?
Each application represented a real need.
A rap at the door pulled him from his thoughts. Allison stood in the doorway, a stack of files balanced on her laptop.
“Ready for me?”
“Grateful for your help.” It would take hours to wade through the pending files, and he trusted Allison’s intuition. The no-nonsense woman had a way of seeing through the paper version to the real person as if she could sniff out a brewing crisis even the client couldn’t identify.
She settled onto the chair in front of his desk, and he winced as she sat with a back so straight it looked painful. “Our list is growing.”
“There’s not much we can do about it.” Without more resources, he couldn’t get the authorization to hire more staff to help soldiers and airmen and airwomen. That was the harsh reality.
“I think we should revisit holding more group sessions. Those become critical when the need outstrips services.”
“How would that work?”
She laid out a developed plan, and he nodded at key points.
“I can tell you’ve thought hard about this.”
She tapped the stack of files. “It’s getting more difficult to know who is critical.”
“They all feel that way.”
“Yes.” She flipped along the tabs on the files without opening any. “Each of these individuals has seen things on tours that no one should experience. In a group they can support each other, since they’ve experienced similar situations and stresses.”
“We can try it.” Group sessions went against the macho military environment. “How will you create a setting where they can share?”
They talked about logistics, and then Chandler pulled her back to the immediate issue. “So who gets the open slot?” He glanced over the files he still needed to review. “I’ll finish these and give you my vote by five.”
She nodded, then pushed to her feet and left him to the files. The men and women represented had achieved heroic things in their tours. They had not all received medals or recognition, but he sensed their losses, their fears. Their reentry issues were unrelenting, but they could be managed. Often it just took knowing they had the freedom to talk. Admitting there was an issue and asking for help.
He leaned back in his chair and gazed at the map he’d hung on the wall reflecting his own tours.
Each person had a map like that, if not physical then seared on their consciousness. Superimposed on top of that were the comrades who hadn’t returned home.
Chandler’s thoughts turned to the mysterious phone calls. What was the caller’s story?
The fact that he would call and threaten Chandler indicated that he had serious need of the exact services the Vet Center provided. How many military members just like that man were in this pile? He couldn’t be part of their slipping through the cracks. Maybe trying Allison’s groups was the best way to reach more. It was surely a better option than receiving no services while lingering on the waiting list.
His stomach growled loudly enough to break his concentration. Chandler reached for the file cabinet beside the desk and tugged on the drawer that held a stash of soft drinks and sparkling water. He felt around in the drawer and frowned. Empty. Guess he’d have to go out.
He walked past empty offices and then into the open area where a couple work stations were located. Allison looked up from her desk.
“I’m headed to grab a bite. Need anything?”
Allison glanced at her desk, then at the empty reception desk. “I’d join you, but I’m the last man standing during lunch.”
“I could bring back something.”
“Thanks, I’m good.” She patted a container on her desk. “I think the first flood of callers related to the latest sex scandal is slowing.”
“That’s good news. I’ll be back in time for my next appointment.” Chandler strode out the front door and walked the couple blocks to one of the restaurants lining the square around the Metro stop. He felt like some tandoori chicken from the Delhi Club. Inside, the butter-colored walls alternated with slices of red to give the small restaurant an exotic feel. Black chairs and tables stood against the colorful backdrop, creating a weight for the space. The line was unexpectedly short, and it didn’t take long to enjoy the feast of the lunch buffet. He was pacing himself through some spicy curry when he felt a presence behind him and to his right.
Chandler glanced over his shoulder. At the two-topper nearby sat a man with
a Washington Nationals hat pulled low over his face. He was slouched inside an oversized hoodie, making it difficult to determine his actual size.
Then the man reached for a napkin, his chair scraping against the brick floor, and Chandler saw he carried a weapon.
In an instant the dynamic changed.
While military installations were scattered in this area, thanks to the proximity to DC and the Pentagon, that didn’t stop many in civilian clothing from telegraphing that they carried.
Casually, Chandler stood to get another plate of food, giving him an opportunity to eyeball the man more directly and assess the risk.
He’d gladly laugh if he were overthinking the matter, but the phone calls on top of his military experience made him cautious. He kept an eye on the man as he started down the buffet line, but when he returned to his seat, the man had disappeared and a note rested on his chair.
Chandler set down the food and picked up the note.
Maybe I’ll do to you what you did to me.
Watch your back. You might see me coming.
Then again, maybe you won’t.
Chandler frowned. What kind of delusional gobbledygook was this?
He tucked the paper into his jacket pocket and then turned back to his food. The gulab jamun he’d put on his plate didn’t look like a welcome dessert anymore. He pushed it away and settled his check.
As he walked back to work, he considered the note. He’d only touched it by the edges in case it became evidence. Of what he wasn’t sure, but it didn’t feel right.
He squared his shoulders and pulled open the door to the office suite. The furnishings were mismatched and looked as though they’d been pulled from a sixties or seventies sitcom set. He marched to the receptionist’s desk. She barely glanced at him, so he cleared his throat and glared.
She rolled her eyes but didn’t look at him. “What can I do for you?”
“Tell Grant Joshua I need to see him.”
Grant Joshua, the public defender, wouldn’t be thrilled by his impromptu visit, but he wasn’t thrilled it was required. Senator Langdon’s ultimatum had left him little choice. He had to apply effective pressure immediately. The promotion was his. Anything else was unacceptable.
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