Then the reporting shifted back to local political news. “Today the Armed Forces subcommittee began hearings for the candidates for one-star general.”
Jaime glanced up at the words and froze as an image of her uncle in his dress uniform appeared over the anchor’s shoulder along with several other candidates. Then the next story appeared, and Jaime took a breath.
Dane was cropping up everywhere.
She brushed at a spot on the granite countertop as her thoughts raced. The criminal charges would take too long. They still had the grand jury and then trial to proceed through. Even with a speedy trial, it could take months before she had an opportunity to tell her story to a jury and see whether her uncle would be held accountable for his abuse. And that was if the charges survived each stage. Maybe she’d delayed too long to bring him to justice, although he might be dishonorably discharged if found guilty.
Her pulse began to pound a painful rhythm in her head, and she fought to think clearly. There had to be a way to let the world know what the man was really like before he’d be elevated to a higher position.
Maybe Hayden was right and Jaime should meet with Senator Wesley. She pulled over her phone and opened up a web browser. A few clicks later she was looking at the list of members of the Senate Armed Services Committee.
She nibbled at her lip while she considered.
Was she desperate enough to pull one of her best friends that tightly into the fray? Would Dane go after Hayden if he learned Jaime had asked for her help? Because she knew Hayden would do it with the intense focus of someone who loved fighting for the underdog and holding Goliath accountable.
Maybe there was another way.
But ten minutes later Jaime was still staring at the list without generating fresh ideas. Her phone rang, and she leapt at the excuse to derail her dead-end thoughts.
“Hello?”
“Aslan wonders if Simba would like to play.” Chandler’s teasing voice made a warm feeling spread through her.
But she couldn’t allow it. No man would be interested in her without focusing on the wrong things once he knew her history. Chandler would be no different. Yet her heart wanted to believe. The words that slipped from her mouth weren’t the ones she’d intended.
“I’d like that, but I think I’ll leave Simba at home.”
Chandler laughed. “Aslan will be disappointed, but I’ll prepare him.”
“I need a few minutes. Wait for me in the lobby. I’ll be down in fifteen.” Jaime filled a glass with water and drank it quickly. Maybe that would convince her stomach she was full, since her dinner plans had stalled with the story on her uncle. Then she hurried into her bathroom to freshen up. As she looked in the mirror, she noticed the purple circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. It was a miracle no one had mentioned them, because they looked like bruises.
After brushing her teeth and swiping on some tinted lip balm, she grabbed a down vest and a hat and headed to the elevator.
When he spotted her, Chandler jerked to attention. “Hey. You look great.”
She frowned, biting back a protest. Why would he think that when she hadn’t tried . . . much? She knelt in front of Aslan and rubbed his neck. “Hey, boy.”
“What? You talk to the dog and ignore me?” Chandler mock pouted, and it only made him more appealing. How did he do that?
“A woman has to have her priorities.” She stood and looked at him, chin tipped slightly so she could meet his gaze. Bad idea. Those blue eyes bored into her.
“I hope one of those priorities is to get some coffee.”
“Coffee?” I didn’t agree to that.
“Promise I don’t bite.” He smirked. “At least not on Tuesdays.”
“Nice.” She shook her head and shoved her hands into her vest pockets. “Lead on.”
They strolled the path that curved along the Potomac and then away toward a small neighborhood, periodic streetlamps casting halos of light along the wide sidewalk. An occasional jogger or brisk walker passed them, but for the most part they had the space to themselves, and she found she wasn’t nervous being alone with him.
“You’ve gone quiet.” His deep voice broke into her thoughts.
“Guess I was focused.”
“On what?”
“Nothing important.” No way would she tell him he’d been the subject. She could imagine how his chest would puff.
“Hmm.” He let the silence settle again, the clip of Aslan’s nails against the concrete creating a beat for their steps. “Let’s go up those steps.” He guided her toward a small collection of shops. A sign in the shape of a coffee cup, the words Savor the Sip blazoned on it, hung above a door. “You know this place?”
Jaime shook her head.
“I think you’ll like it.”
She doubted it. How could it be good and this close to her apartment without her hearing about it? Yet when he opened the door for her and the aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans assailed her, she rethought her opinion. She took in the heavy wood counter with a display case of desserts and the tables and chairs scattered among couches. “How did you discover this place?”
“It opened a month ago. One of the ongoing efforts to revitalize the area. That’s why some of the other storefronts are still empty.”
He commanded Aslan to lie down by the door and then led Jaime to the menu board. He ordered a decaf Americano, and she settled on a latte.
“Sure you don’t want something sweet?”
“I’m a basic kind of gal.” Keep expectations low and it was hard to be disappointed.
He must have seen a flash of that sentiment in her face, because after he paid, he stepped closer. “Jaime, you can want more.”
The words ricocheted through her. Want more?
Not an option.
Chandler hadn’t expected his short sentence to bounce across her face in a cascade of distrust to disdain to dismay.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
The words felt like a punch to his solar plexus.
“Really?” At least give him a chance.
“There are some things only the person who experienced them can understand.”
“And that negates any desire on the part of another person to understand the first?”
“Yes.”
The word cracked through the space between them. She looked ready for battle, fists on her hips, shoulders squared.
He took a step back and slid his hands into his back pockets. “Every person who’s lived more than a few years has experienced some trials and tragedies. I’ve seen more than I care to share. I’m military, remember?”
“Can’t forget.” Her tone suggested she wished she could.
“You don’t strike me as a peace activist.”
“You know me well enough to judge?”
“Maybe I want to.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” She sank onto the couch and glanced around. “We need to lower our voices.”
She was right. He wanted to ease onto the couch next to her, but it didn’t take a psychologist to warn him that wasn’t his best idea. Instead, he glanced toward the counter where the barista was setting their drinks. “I’ll get those.”
When he returned a moment later, she had curled into the corner. He handed her the mug of steamed milk and coffee, then hesitated.
“You can sit.”
She patted the cushion next to her, but he didn’t quite buy the turnaround in attitude. “You’re an interesting woman, Jaime Nichols.”
She watched him over her mug, her dark eyes intoxicating in their intensity. “Is that your way of saying I’m difficult?”
He grinned at her, the grin that usually had women swooning just a bit. No reaction. “Maybe a bit.”
Her gaze dropped as she took a sip of the latte. “I know I am.” She held the mug tightly with both hands as if trying to capture all the heat leaching from its sides. “I don’t want to be.” Her eyes implored him, like Aslan’s when he was repentant over so
mething. “It escapes against my better judgment at times.” She quirked an eyebrow as if inviting him to decide her meaning.
Chandler settled against the brushed eggplant suede. There wasn’t much room to kick his long legs in front of him, but he tried. “Do you want help?”
“From you?” Her nostrils flared just a bit. “. . . Maybe.”
The word was hesitant, as was the twitch of her lips that accompanied it. It took all his willpower to drag his gaze back to her eyes. While they were mesmerizing, her lips begged him to lean in. But move too fast, and he was doomed. This woman would bolt in the other direction at the first misstep faster than her cat could skitter away.
She glanced at her watch. “I need to get back. I’ve got an early morning.”
“You sure?” He glanced at her coffee. “That’s not decaf.”
She met his gaze with the slightest bit of challenge. “Yes. Gotta be at court at eight.”
“That’s early for a client.”
“Not really, but I wish the client wasn’t me.”
“Where do you need to go? Maybe I can give you a ride.” Just to be a helpful neighbor. Not to have the excuse to spend more time with her. Not at all.
“It’s only Arlington. I’ll hop on the Metro.”
“All right.” As he followed her to the door, he was more intrigued than ever. Why did she have to go to court? Good thing he knew how to dig for info. But he knew he’d have to tread carefully.
He set his mug in the collection tub next to hers.
Pursuing this multilayered woman would take a carefully constructed plan.
And if there was one thing the military had taught him, it was how to execute on a deliberate approach to victory.
CHAPTER 21
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 10
Caroline knocked on her door early with a steaming mug of coffee laced with caramel creamer. “Ready for your big day?”
“No.” The word slipped out in a groan. She’d seen every hour on the clock as she tossed and turned through a long and restless night. That full-caff coffee with Chandler had been a bad idea on many levels, not the least of which was the way he’d filled her thoughts.
“This is what you’ve wanted. A chance to tell your story. I wish I could be there.”
“I’m glad you can’t.” As Caroline’s face fell, Jaime raced to explain. “It’ll be easier to tell the story without people I love there.” Except if her mom and dad showed, that excuse was exposed.
“Then know I’ll be praying. You might want to too.”
“Why? God doesn’t care.”
“Take this as a chance to test your theory. Maybe He does but you haven’t asked for anything in so long you haven’t let Him show you.”
“I’d have to be pretty desperate.”
“Aren’t you?”
Jaime froze at her friend’s piercing gaze, and then Caroline handed the coffee over. “I made this for you.” She turned to leave but then stopped. “Let them see your hurt. No one can walk away from the reality of your wound. I love you, Jaime.”
“I know.” The words came out in a whisper as Jaime clutched the mug as tightly as she wanted to control her emotions.
An hour later she was sitting behind the prosecutor’s table, waiting for the judge to call the hearing to order. She kept her eyes forward, ignoring Dane sitting at the defense table with a high-priced attorney out of DC. Guess he hadn’t decided to represent himself after all. She pulled her gaze back to Mitch. His three-piece suit was a bit over the top even if the tie was GQ perfect.
She glanced back over her shoulder, and her heart stalled when her parents walked in—with Chandler Bolton right behind them.
What on earth was he doing here?
She hadn’t given him enough information last night to find her, had she?
She wasn’t prepared for him to hear the sordid details.
Judge Anna Thatcher whacked her gavel against the bench. “The probable cause hearing in State v. Nichols is now in session.” She glanced at the court reporter. “Everything ready?”
The young man nodded at the judge, who pulled a file in front of her. “We are here for the matter of the probable cause hearing.” She rattled off the docket number. “The State may proceed.”
Mitch stood and unbuttoned his jacket. “Thank you, Your Honor. The state calls Jaime Nichols.”
Sweat slicked her palms as Jaime stood and approached the witness stand. She couldn’t ignore the weight of her uncle’s gaze. She had known when she approached the Commonwealth’s Attorney that the only option was to testify. To do it at this stage meant the prosecutor felt unsure they could survive the probable cause stage without her testimony. But while she understood, it left her feeling vulnerable. Anything she said gave her uncle and his defense team ammunition and insight if this survived to trial.
She was grateful that her parents were there supporting her, but the weight of their questions only added to the heaviness that threatened to overwhelm her.
What if she blew it?
She felt the vise lock her lungs as spots dotted the edges of her vision. Quickly she slipped her wrist to her nose and inhaled the lavender oil she’d dabbed there that morning; she felt calm begin to slide into place.
Mitch’s look communicated his concern, and she gave him a small nod as steel stiffened her spine. She had to do this. The costs were too high to allow Dane to continue to appear as someone cloaked in light and goodness when such evil filled his soul.
She walked to the witness box.
The judge looked down over the rim of her reading glasses. “Do you swear the testimony you are about to give is the truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do.”
“Then you may be seated.” The judged turned her attention to Mitch. “You may ask your questions. However, keep in mind this is only the probable cause hearing. I will not grant wide latitude with your questions, as the scope of this hearing is whether these charges will proceed to grand jury.”
“Understood, Your Honor.” Mitch stood as Jaime settled into the large chair behind the witness stand. The microphone poised on the edge of the stand hadn’t intimidated her all the times she’d been an attorney, but from this side it loomed large.
She shifted against the fake leather and then reminded herself to freeze like a rock. This was about looking resolute and not letting them see her fear. She tipped her chin and met Mitch’s gaze.
“Ms. Nichols, there is a fundamental question I need to ask. Why wait this long to approach the Commonwealth’s Attorney with your allegations?”
Even though she’d known he’d start with this question, it hit her in the chest. Give the answer you rehearsed in front of the bathroom mirror. “I needed to know I could be taken seriously.”
“Why should you be taken more seriously now?”
“I went to law school in part to learn if there was anything I could do about the violations and abuse I received at Dane Nichols’s hands.” She lifted her chin in hopes of stemming the tears that wanted release.
“So you’ve spent the last ten years preparing?”
“Not preparing as much as learning. I knew this would be painful and disruptive.” The words felt so rigid and tight. What had Caroline told her? Let them see the hurt she’d buried all these years . . . Could she relinquish her control like that?
“Is this a trap to ruin your uncle’s career?”
She blinked. Where had that question come from? It wasn’t one they had discussed. “No. I didn’t know until I started digging that there was no statute of limitations on sexual assault crimes. I was afraid I’d waited too long, but at eighteen I wasn’t strong enough to fight for myself.”
“But now you are?”
“Yes. And I can’t live with myself if I don’t do everything I can to make sure he isn’t hurting other children.”
From there Mitch went back on script with questions about when the abuse had occurred and why nothing was done at the time
of the crimes.
“I didn’t know how to tell my mother, and my father was deployed outside the country. After that tour, if my father and his brother were deployed, it was at the same time, and I never went to Dane’s apartment or home without my parents. Once I was an adult, I made sure our paths did not cross.” She felt the tremor in her hands and wished the court allowed a comfort animal like Aslan to rest at her feet. If she felt this upset and unsettled, how much more threatening this situation would be for a child like Tiffany.
“I have no further questions.” Mitch sat, and as much as Jaime wanted to dash for the prosecution’s table, she forced herself to wait.
The judge turned to the defense table. “Roger?”
“I have a few questions.” As the man stood and buttoned his suit coat, Jaime braced for the barrage that was sure to come. “Ms. Nichols, you tell a nice tale, but why should the court believe any of this happened? Aren’t you out to humiliate your uncle?”
“No. I want to make sure he can’t hurt anyone else.”
“Can you prove any of this alleged abuse happened? Did you go to a hospital?”
“No.”
“Was any sort of rape assessment conducted?”
“No. I was eight and not talking.”
“Was child protective services called?”
“No.” She felt anger pressing up but forced herself to remain outwardly calm. She knew exactly what he was attempting since she’d used the same technique with witnesses herself. Badger, and eventually they would lose their cool and authority.
“How about any law enforcement organization?”
“No.”
“You want the judge to believe your testimony alone—because there is no physical evidence?”
“Yes.” She gritted her teeth to keep from exploding. Mitch caught her gaze and barely shook his head. She had to control her emotions. But then she caught Chandler’s eyes, and the pain she saw there speared her. He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t hear this in such a casual way.
“Is there any corroborating evidence?”
“That is up to the Commonwealth’s Attorney.” She wasn’t sure if Mitch planned to admit her journal but didn’t want to tip off the defense if she could avoid it.
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