by M. S. Parker
Before I’d had enough time to completely decompress, it was time to go back. The judge and jury entered. I went back to the stand and was reminded that I was still under oath. I took my seat and braced myself.
Malcolm McCloud was every negative stereotype of a defense attorney to the rich. Vijay had told me that his clients weren’t usually wealthy though. He hadn’t been able to make enough of a name for himself to generate the sort of clientele he needed for the lifestyle he wanted. She suspected he planned to use this case to make a name for himself as an attorney who’d do anything to win. Including tearing me apart on the stand.
“Miss Quick,” he paused, then tilted his head as if something had just occurred to him. “That’s not actually your name, is it? Not the name you were born with. You go by Rona Quick, but your real name is Rona Elizabeth Jacobe.”
“Is there a question here, Your Honor?” Vijay asked.
“I’ll rephrase,” he said with a smarmy smile. “What names were you given by your parents, when you were born?”
“Rona Elizabeth Jacobe.”
“Why did you change it?”
Vijay had warned me that the first thing McCloud would do would be to try to get under my skin and make me come across as a hostile witness, which meant that no matter how inane I found his questions, I couldn’t lash out.
“Two reasons,” I said evenly. “It made things easier to have the same last name as my Uncle Anton, and I had no desire to be connected to the man who’d killed my mother and two other women, and who tried to kill me.”
“Because you hate your father.”
Vijay stood. “He’s testifying, Your Honor.”
“Mr. McCloud, stick with questions.”
He smiled at the judge. “Of course, Your Honor.” He looked back at me. “Do you hate your father, Miss Jacobe?”
I clenched my jaw.
“Your Honor, please ask Mr. McCloud to address the witness by her legal name.”
“Mr. McCloud…”
He held up a hand. “Sorry, Your Honor.” He gave me an expectant look.
“My feelings about my father are…conflicted,” I answered honestly.
“But one of those feelings is hate, is it not?” He adjusted his tie. “In fact, for a year before the tragic deaths of your mother, Annabeth Khaled, and Darcy Fitzsimmons, the two of you were constantly at odds. You got into trouble, and he laid down the law, and you hated him for it.”
“Your Honor…”
“If you don’t have a question to ask, Mr. McCloud–”
“I do, Your Honor.” His eyes narrowed as he focused in on me. “Did you hate both of your parents, Miss Jac-sorry, Miss Quick? Didn’t you have a real motive to want them out of your life?”
Okay, I hadn’t seen this line of questioning coming. Getting me angry, discrediting my memories, those made sense. Him accusing me of the murders? That was crazy.
“I was thirteen,” I said. “I argued with my parents, but I didn’t want them dead.”
“Not even after they refused to let you go to the Carlisle pool party the previous week?”
I frowned. “You think I killed…you think I’d commit murder over a pool party?”
“Wouldn’t you?” He walked back to his table and picked up a picture. “Defense exhibit four, Your Honor.” He handed it to me. “What’s shown in that picture?”
My stomach flipped. “My diary from when I was a kid.”
“Would you read the highlighted portion?”
“Your Honor, we received no notice of this evidence.” Vijay was on her feet again, her cheeks flushed.
“The diary was in the original evidence boxes,” McCloud said. “Ms. Castellanos has had it available to her for nearly ten years.”
“He’s not offering the diary,” Vijay countered. “Just a picture, which wasn’t included in the original evidence. There’s no way to authenticate that the pages in the photo actually belong to Miss Quick.”
“Miss Quick’s word should be enough for verification, Your Honor.”
“You’re calling her credibility into question and want to use a credible testimony from her to do it?”
“She has a point, Mr. McCloud. Are you willing to allow verification by submitting the entire diary as evidence?”
I pressed my hand against my stomach and prayed that McCloud wouldn’t want to risk it. The entry in the picture had been written in anger. Taken as only a few lines highlighted on one particular page, it could be pretty damning. But if they allowed in the diary, there would be plenty of other entries where I talked about how much I loved my family. Still, no one would want their childhood tantrums and crushes made a part of the public record.
“I’ll withdraw the photo,” McCloud said.
“Let’s get back to it then,” the judge said. “Do you have additional questions for this witness?”
“I do, Your Honor.” He was smiling again. “Miss Quick, let’s talk about your feelings toward Darcy Fitzsimmons.”
When I lived in Hell’s Kitchen with Anton, one of our neighbors was this wizened old woman who talked in all sorts of odd phrases. One that she’d often said after a long day was that she felt like a washrag that had been used, rung out, and hung to dry. I’d never really understood what she meant, but as I stepped off the witness stand hours later, I finally got it.
“We’ll reconvene tomorrow with the defense’s first witness.” The judge banged his gavel.
“You were great,” Vijay said. “Go back to the hotel and get some sleep. The defense only has a couple witnesses, and after the way he came at you, I’m thinking his entire plan is to present as many other possible suspects as he can and get the jury to believe that makes reasonable doubt.”
“Do you think it’ll work?” I asked, my voice raspy. I needed something to drink.
“Not a chance,” Vijay said. “I think Mr. McCloud thinks more highly of his skills as a lawyer than he should. This is his first big case. He’s only done parking tickets and misdemeanors before. He probably oversold himself to your dad without even looking at the case.”
I hoped she was right. People could believe some pretty crazy shit.
Clay waited just outside the courtroom, immediately engulfing me in a huge hug. “You did an amazing job.”
“Thanks,” I said as I took a step back. I appreciated the hug, but there was another set of arms I wanted around me.
“How are you doing?” Jalen came from my right, hesitating only a moment before hugging me. He’d been careful with how often he’d touched me today.
“Okay,” I said. “Glad it’s over.”
“If you don’t want to come for the rest, it’s fine.” Vijay looked from Clay to Jalen and then back to me. “It’s okay for it to be too much. Lean on your friends, but don’t feel like you need to come in. I’ll keep you in the loop.”
“I can’t even think about tomorrow,” I said honestly. “I just want to get back to the hotel and go to sleep.”
“I’ve got a car out front,” Clay said.
Jalen reached for my hand. “I can take her.”
Clay’s eyes dropped to where my fingers were laced between Jalen’s. “I’m not sure I trust you to do it.”
“Whether you trust me or not doesn’t matter,” Jalen said. “It’s Rona’s decision.”
“After what you did?” Clay’s voice held an edge as he took a step toward Jalen.
“Stop.” I didn’t say the word loudly, but both men stopped where they were and looked at me. “Clay, thank you for everything. You have been the best friend I could’ve asked for, and I don’t want anything about our friendship to change.”
“But?”
“But Jalen and I aren’t…friends. We’re…something else, and we need to spend time together if I’m ever going to figure out if I can trust him again.”
Clay studied us both for a moment before nodding. “All right. I’ll head back to the hotel. I’ll be right down the hall if you need me.”
“Thank
you.” I kissed his cheek.
“I’m going to hold you to what we talked about before,” he said before he walked away.
“What did you talk about before?” Jalen was trying to sound nonchalant, but it wasn’t working.
“I told him that if you hurt me again, he could beat the shit out of you.”
Jalen stood still for a moment, then nodded. “Okay then.” He gestured with our joined hands. “Should we go?”
We didn’t talk on the way back to the hotel, and I was grateful for it. I didn’t need conversation right now. Being able to lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, knowing that I didn’t need to worry about anything, that was all I needed. He saw to all of it.
A new officer was waiting outside my door, and he gave us both a smile as we went inside. I appreciated the security, but now that Jalen was here, I wasn’t sure I needed it anymore. My father wasn’t some mob boss or one of those serial killers who had all sorts of crazy followers. It was just him. There wasn’t really any need for protection.
It wasn’t until I’d seen him this morning that I realized how scared I’d been about seeing him again. Anger, I’d admitted and accepted. Fear, that had surprised me. But then they’d led him in, and everything had vanished. Anger. Fear. I’d looked at him, and all I felt was pity.
He’d looked…old. Much older than I would’ve imagined. His hair was thin and scraggly, unable to cover the scar that ran from the middle of his skull to just in front of his ear. As much a souvenir of his accident as his personality change. His skin was sallow and hung on him, almost as ill-fitting as his orange jumpsuit. But it was his eyes that were the worst. Blue like mine but looking nothing like mine. They moved constantly, looking at everyone and everything with the same flat hatred.
There was nothing left of the father I’d loved as a child.
“Rona?” Jalen touched my arm, bringing me back to the present. “You’re worn out. Why don’t you go get a shower, and I’ll order us some food? Anything specific you want?”
I shook my head. He was right. I was worn out. Beyond it, actually. “Thank you.” I put my hand on his shoulder and stretched up to brush my lips across his.
It was barely a kiss. Nothing like what we’d shared in the past. But it was a start.
His eyes lit up, and he started to lower his head for another kiss. I put my fingers on his lips, stopping him.
“I’m not ready for sex, not yet.” I slid my hand to his cheek, the stubble rasping against my palm. “But I want to be there. I want to trust you again, want this to work. When I say stop, you stop.”
His answer was to cover my mouth with his. His lips were gentle, moving with mine as I leaned into him. His body was firm and familiar, exactly what I needed to feel safe.
I really hoped he meant everything he’d said since he got here, because I didn’t know if my heart could handle being broken again.
Thirty-Four
The next two days were awful.
McCloud brought in Daniella and Clark Snowe, now sixteen and nineteen, and twisted everything they remembered into support of my father’s defense. They’d both been in tears by the time their testimonies had been done.
Then he’d called Willis Jacobe himself.
My father hadn’t testified in the first trial. His lawyer’d had a hard time keeping my dad quiet in the courtroom. There would’ve been no telling what he would’ve said or done. Or that had been what everyone had assumed.
Now, I wondered if it’d been because he hadn’t wanted people thinking my father was crazy and wondering why that hadn’t been the defense’s position all along.
I’d listened in horror as he’d described what ‘actually’ happened. How my mother had told him that she was pregnant with another man’s child, that she was leaving us. He’d left to deal with the pain of her infidelity and to think about what to do next. When he came back, he’d found my mother dead, and me in the neighbors’ house with their kids locked in the bathroom and two more bodies on the floor. He never came out and said that I’d done it, but the implication was there.
And that had been the entire point. To create the ‘reasonable’ doubt that the jury needed to find him not guilty.
Closing arguments happened yesterday after lunch, and then the jury had been sent out to start deliberations. I wasn’t sure which was worse, listening to my father lie about my mother and what he did or waiting to see if twelve strangers were still able to see the truth.
Even with Jalen at my side, I’d barely slept last night, and now, I kept pacing in the little alcove where we waited to hear if the jury had a verdict yet. If they didn’t come back today, I’d go nuts. Plain and simple. I couldn’t handle waiting an entire weekend to find out what they decided. The only thing worse than waiting would be if they couldn’t decide at all.
I stopped, rubbing my temples. “Please don’t let it be a hung jury,” I mumbled.
“Rona?” Jalen put his hands on my shoulders. His thumbs dug into my shoulders, kneading the knots there.
I moaned, dropping my head forward. He leaned closer, letting me feel the heat of his body, a physical reminder that he’d been with me, here, through all of it. The feel of him sent a wave of warmth through me.
He pitched his voice low so only I could hear him. “I love hearing you moan like that.”
I closed my eyes. Jalen had been amazing these last couple days. He’d never once pushed for anything more physical than comforting touches. He held me when we slept, and inevitably, he’d get hard, but he never took advantage of me. He’d been exactly what I needed.
“Rona.” Vijay appeared. “The jury’s back.”
Jalen reached down and took my hand as Clay stepped beside me. The two men had settled into what felt like an uneasy truce. Clay was waiting for Jalen to screw up again, and Jalen didn’t quite believe that all Clay wanted was friendship. I didn’t bother trying to set either of them straight. Only time would prove what was true. Fortunately, they weren’t asking me to choose sides. If they ever did that, both of them would lose.
The three of us made our way back to the courtroom, sitting down behind Vijay’s table. My stomach twisted in knots, and I squeezed Jalen’s hand until he winced.
“Sorry,” I whispered, loosening my grip.
“It’s okay,” he said with a smile. “I get it.”
My father entered and took his place next to his lawyer. The bailiff entered and called us all to order. The judge and jury came in, the tension in the room shifting as they did. While re-trying this case wasn’t exactly headlining nationally, it was big enough in our area that everyone was waiting to see what happened.
Everyone, including the families of my father’s other victims. I hadn’t been able to even look at them. They didn’t blame me, I knew. They’d all been there the first time we’d done this dance, and they knew what my father had done to me. They knew how much I’d tried to stop him.
But I hadn’t been able to do enough.
Maybe that was why I’d felt so much responsibility back then. And still felt it today. It was my way of making amends. At least as best as I could.
“I understand you’ve reached a verdict,” the judge said as the first juror stood.
“We have, Your Honor.”
“On the first count, in the murder of Dana Jacobe, how do you find the defendant?”
“Guilty.”
Everyone let out a breath.
“On the second count, in the murder of Annabeth Khaled, how do you find the defendant?”
“Guilty.”
The dark-haired woman sitting on the other side of Clay let out a strangled sob. She was Mrs. Khaled’s daughter, Gwen. She’d gotten married last year.
“On the third count, in the murder of Darcy Fitzsimmons, how do you find the defendant?”
“Guilty.”
Darcy’s mom started to cry, and Mr. Fitzsimmons put one arm around her.
“On the fourth count, in the attempted murder of Rona Quick, how do
you find the defendant?”
“Guilty.”
Clay put his hand on my shoulder, and Jalen squeezed my hand. It was done. The lesser charges that had been a part of the first case hadn’t been made part of the appeal in order to streamline things. Those didn’t matter. He’d been found guilty of the four counts that mattered. He’d spend the rest of his life in prison, where he belonged.
Most people would think that I’d be happy right then, but all I really felt was a sense of relief. It was over. I could go back to Colorado without any unfinished business here. My past was completely behind me, and I could move on.
Starting with my relationship with Jalen.
Jalen was stretched out on the bed when I got out of the shower. He hadn’t asked why I’d felt the need to take one when it was still early and all we’d done after court was get something to eat, and I didn’t offer an explanation. Part of it was almost symbolic, a way of cleansing myself of the past, but another part was the need for some solitude while I figured out exactly how I wanted to approach things with Jalen.
By the time I finished, I decided that straightforward would be the best approach. Which was why I was now standing next to the bed, my towel wrapped around me, my stomach in knots.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done this week.”
Jalen turned to look at me, his eyes widening when he saw what I wasn’t wearing. He pushed himself up on his elbows but didn’t say a word.
“And I’m sorry. I’m not saying what you did before was okay, but it was wrong of me to expect you to accept everything with a smile. I should have made it clear that it was okay if you needed time to adjust.”
He shook his head. “What you went through–”
“Is in the past,” I interrupted. “And that’s where I want to keep it. No more looking back at what we did or said. We’ve made our apologies, and I don’t want to dwell on any of it. I think we have something amazing here, and I don’t want to lose it because I held on to something I should have let go.”
