The Bridgewater Case

by R. C. Martin

  During our lunch break, I don’t eat. I pace. For the entire hour, I feel as though I’m buzzing. Everything seems so out of my control and so far out of reach. I want so badly to call Dane, to hear him tell me that everything is going to be okay, but I know whatever he says will only be words. He’s no more in control than I am. No matter how hard he fights in that courtroom today, he can’t prevent the acts of others who seek retaliation. And no matter how many hours he spent studying with me, this time is just like every other time—I can’t control it. I’m not strong enough.

  I’m freaking the fuck out.

  It’s during the second session of the day that I realize I’m not doing well. I feel it down to my core that I’m going to fail. Again. It’s as if all the information I need is trapped inside some dark corner of my mind, and I can’t get to it. That cool, familiar feeling starts to tingle at my toes, slowly creeping its way up my legs. It’s as if ice is coursing through my veins instead of blood. I freeze, overwhelmed by the reality of my future. I’ll be Dane’s secretary forever—his secretary that he won’t marry. Then, just like now, the tables will turn and we won’t be in control. The rules will go against us, and I’ll lose him or I’ll lose my job. I’ll be forced to pick. Except, right now, in this testing facility, it feels like I have to pick this very moment. My heart shatters, like a shard of ice falling to the ground.

  This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

  This isn’t how our story is supposed to be written.

  I don’t finish the test. When we’re excused, I get into my Range Rover, but I don’t go home. I can’t. I can’t face him. I don’t want to see the look in his eyes when he realizes he’s in love with a fraud—when he finally comes to the conclusion that I’ll never be more, like he believed I would be. No, I can’t see him look at me with disappointment in his beautiful blue eyes, so I head across town. My apartment is still leased to me for another month, and I’m suddenly so grateful I have somewhere to go.

  I need somewhere to hide.

  I need somewhere to cry.

  I need somewhere to fall apart.

  When I reach my destination, I hurry inside, locking the door behind me. I kick off my shoes, the cold floor under my feet causing me to burst into tears. I don’t stop walking until I’ve made it to the bedroom. I then curl up on the bare mattress and cry myself to sleep.

  I MISSED MY second chair today. With Janet in a state after what happened to her late last night, I needed Sigourney for the exact reason I justified her presence in the first place—to hold the plaintiff’s hand. While she insisted she had no intention of settling or dropping the case, it was quite obvious Janet felt uncomfortable in the courtroom this afternoon. Yet, beyond Janet’s emotional state, I missed Sigourney. She knows this case backwards and forwards. While I’m entirely capable of handling it on my own, it didn’t feel right being in the room without her. It felt like I was walking around having forgotten something—someone. Now, it doesn’t feel as though I’ve forgotten her so much as though I’ve misplaced her.

  After I get her voicemail for the tenth time, I hang up and call again. I’m certain she’s not at the office, because I was just there. I stayed later than I planned, having to make up for the hours I took off yesterday. I assumed that when I arrived at home, I’d find her here, day one of her exam having ended hours ago. I thought it odd that I hadn’t heard from her, but I didn’t read into it, thinking perhaps she came straight home to get some sleep. I know she didn’t get enough rest last night after that call from Officer Cowell.

  “Where are you, Sigourney?” I bark when I get her voicemail again.

  My patience evaporated after my third attempt to reach her. I hang up and take a deep breath, trying to think of where she could be. With everything that’s going on in regards to this case, we’ve been in each other’s sights almost every minute of every day. It doesn’t make sense that she would go out on a night like tonight and not tell me her plans. I’m five minutes from calling the cops when I decide to go out looking for her myself, first.

  On my way to her old apartment, I call Avangeline only to find out she hasn’t heard from Sigourney all day. Still fairly new to the area, I know my woman doesn’t have many places to go. If she’s not with me and she’s not with Avangeline, her old apartment is the only place I can imagine her to be. Why she would be there is another question entirely. While en route, I make up my mind that if she’s not there, I’m calling the police.

  It’s nearly eight o’clock when I pull into the parking lot of the apartment complex. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see her vehicle situated in front of her building. My relief lasts for only a moment, and then I’m pissed. She has no business being here. Not only is this no longer her home, but it’s not safe. Regardless of the fact that she hasn’t slept here in months, there’s no guarantee the Bridgewater attackers aren’t waiting for an opportunity. Given the events of last night, and my work in the trial this afternoon, it’s reckless and stupid for her to be here. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, or why she’s ignoring my calls, but I don’t like it. Furthermore, I won’t stand for it. That’s not, nor will it ever be, how our relationship works.

  I take the stairs to her door two at a time and try the doorknob to find it locked. Not giving a shit about disturbing her neighbors, I pound on the door with the side of my fist.

  “Sigourney? Dammit, Sigourney, are you in there?”

  She doesn’t answer right away, so I pound harder.

  “Babe—open up, I know you’re in there.”

  I pause long enough to hear her approaching footsteps, and I flatten my palm against the door, lowering my voice as I say, “Baby, open the door.”

  “I can’t.”

  I can hear the tears in her voice, and my heart starts to beat faster, my desperation to get inside escalating.

  “Sigourney, what’s the matter? I’ve been calling—let me in.”

  “Please go, Dane.”

  I scowl at the door, dropping my hand as if the barrier itself has scolded me. “What? No. Open the door. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  “I just—please, I need to be alone. I can’t, I can’t see you right now. I don’t—I don’t want you to see me like this.”

  “Like what? Babe, open the door. Did something happen to you?”

  “No. I—I’m okay. Physically, I’m not hurt.”

  “Sigourney,” I bite, irritated that she won’t just do as I ask.

  “Dane…”

  I press my ear to the door and hear her sniffle. After trying the handle again to no avail, I gently insist, “Tell me what’s going on. Is this about the test? Or the case? Tell me something.”

  “I’m not ready, okay? Please, Dane, please just leave me alone.”

  “Babe…” When I hear her start to walk away, I clap my hand against the barrier between us and cry, “Sigourney!”

  “Sigourney, huh?”

  I jerk my head to the side at the sound of his old, frail voice. I know him right away, even though we’ve never met. Sigourney has mentioned him a few times. I can’t say that I’ve ever tried picturing the man, but he seems to fit Sigourney’s depiction of him.

  “Last I checked, woman named Sally lived there. Haven’t seen her in a while, but…”

  His voice trails off, and in spite of my foul mood, I try not to scowl at him as I reply, “Sally is a nickname.”

  “Otto is, too. That’s me, by the way. And I’m guessing you’re the gentleman she used to tell me about?”

  “Dane,” I state with a dip of my chin.

  “Well, I mean no offense, but if she doesn’t wish to see you—”

  “I’m leaving.” I don’t realize the words are true until after I’ve spoken them. Looking at the door, I shake my head, at a loss as to how else I’m to respond. “I’ll be back tomorrow. If she doesn’t open the door, I’ll break it down. This is not her home. Not anymore.”

  “Ah. So you love her, then.” I snap my gaze in his dire
ction and find him studying me intently. “Been around a long time, son. Know a man with good intentions when I see one.”

  I blow out a sigh, still unable to shake my emotions. The last thing I want to do is leave Sigourney here. I want to know what the fuck is the matter; I want to hold her in my arms and look into those damn green eyes to know that she’s okay; I want to sink my dick into her tight pussy and remind her where she belongs—with me.

  She belongs with me.

  Scrubbing a hand down my face, I look at Otto once more before I ask, “Keep an ear out, all right? She shouldn’t be here alone, but she’s not giving me much of a choice.”

  “She’s a good girl. She’ll come around.”

  I nod, not knowing what to say, and then I thank him and return to the parking lot. As soon as I close myself into the Benz, I pull out my phone and try calling Sigourney one more time. I’m not surprised when she doesn’t answer, but it doesn’t stop my frustration from mounting. Not bothering to leave a voicemail, I hang up and make another call.

  “This is Cowell,” he answers on the second ring.

  “It’s Dane. That offer for a night watch still on the table?”

  “What do you need?”

  I rattle off Sigourney’s address, and he assures me he’ll have someone over within the hour. I don’t leave until I see the cop car pull into the parking lot. Then, reluctantly, I drive home.

  CURLED UP IN my skirt and blouse, my coat draped over me, I stay up all night. I don’t know when I stopped crying and fell into a daze, but my eyes are raw and puffy from the tears I couldn’t stop from before. Hearing Dane yell for me last night just about tore me apart. I wanted so badly to open the door and bury myself in his chest, but I couldn’t. I let him down—I let us both down.

  That’s the thing about being in love. No, not just in love—but being in love with the love. When you’ve found the love of your life, your dreams become their dreams, and theirs become yours. You share everything—your hopes, your fears, your successes and your failures—only, Dane is amazing. He’s brilliant and ambitious and dedicated. He’s one of the most powerful men I’ve ever known, and he chose me. He chose the aspiring lawyer, smart enough to hold her own in a law firm, regardless of her title. He chose the ambitious law grad who would stop at nothing to be invited into the room—because in the room is where justice and the law are used as the amazingly intricate weapons that they are.

  When he looks at me, I know he sees someone I’m not sure I’ll ever really be.

  I’m aware I sound dramatic, but it’s not outside the realm of possibility that he’ll decide I’m not who he thought I was. Last night, I couldn’t face him. I was so disappointed in myself, I couldn’t imagine how he could feel anything but the same. For months, he’s been helping me prepare, all the while telling me I’m ready, but I’m not. I may never be. I’m nothing but a fraud.

  There’s no clock in the room, so I don’t know what time it is, only that it’s late in the morning. I should be at the testing site right now, working on the second half of my bar exam, but I’m not. I think about calling Ellery, but then decide I don’t want to confess my failure to her, either. I know her. She’ll try to cheer me up and pump me full of optimism, encouraging me to get off my ass and gear up for my next opportunity. Right now, I don’t have it in me to hear any of that. I just want to wallow.

  So I do.

  Sleep pulls me under when I’m not paying attention. Then there’s a pounding on my door, and I’m startled awake. It feels like déjà-vu. I sit up, rubbing at my sore eyes, and jump when another round of knocking sounds. The light shining in the room lets me know it’s not yet evening time yet, and I wonder if Dane decided to drive straight here after court, instead of going to the office. I can’t say I’m surprised that he’s back. As much as I don’t feel ready to face him, I know I can’t ignore him any longer.

  I love him. I miss him, too. Last night was the first night in months that I haven’t gone to bed wrapped in his arms. Regardless of how he might view me now, my longing for him hasn’t diminished. Besides, he doesn’t deserve my silence. This is all my fault. He needs to see the real me, so I have to let him in.

  When he pounds again, I suck in a breath and climb off of the mattress. “Coming,” I call out softly, whining a little as my tight-covered feet carry me down the hallway toward the door. I don’t bother looking through the peephole before unlocking the handle and sliding the deadbolt free. I gasp and take a step back when the door is shoved open before I get a chance to twist the knob myself.

  Instantly, I realize it’s not Dane on the other side forcing his way in—and I scream.

  The man in front of me is wearing a ski mask, and he claps a hand over my mouth, silencing me immediately. I try backing away from him, but he grips the nape of my neck with his other hand and squeezes me until it’s hard for me to breathe. I whimper, shoving my fists against his chest, but he’s solid, and my feet against the hard floor make it difficult for me to gain any traction.

  His hand still clamped over my mouth, he forces me to walk backward, further into my unit—that’s when I see he’s not alone.

  “Gotta be honest, sweetheart,” the other one speaks, following us into the room. “You’re starting to be a real pain in the ass. I’ve got other shit to do, but the big guys keep paying me to come after you—so—” He pauses, opening his arms wide before he continues, “Here I am!”

  My eyes fill with tears as my panic starts to overwhelm me. I struggle harder, but to no avail. When I try to scream at the top of my lungs, it sounds like a muffled cry, and I’m sure no one can hear me. Nevertheless, the man holding me must get irritated. He uncovers my mouth only to backhand me across the cheek. It hurts like hell, the pain spreading across my entire face causing me to go mute.

  “Quiet, bitch, or the next time you scream, it’ll be because I shoved my dick up your ass,” he grinds out.

  My eyes grow wide in horror as I stare at him, and he throws me to the ground by my neck. I catch myself with my hands and knees, and it’s then that I realize I’m shaking so hard I can’t even hold myself up.

  “I’d like to tell you he’s kidding, but he’s one ugly son of a bitch. Not good with the ladies, so he’s acquired a certain—appetite, if you will. We keep him on the road, mostly. Truck stop whores aren’t as pretty as you, though. Bet you’ve got him half hard already,” the other man chuckles. He walks over to me and squats down, his smile fading into a sneer as he grumbles, “Keep that in mind if you try to put up a fight. You don’t look like the back-door type, so we’ll just fuck that pussy of yours and be on our way. You don’t listen too well, and there are consequences to be had.” Running a hand up my calf and under my skirt, he groans before muttering, “Consider it mercy, sweetheart. Fucking with you has added a nice bonus to my salary the last few months. Helps that you’re hot as fuck, too.”

  “No,” I whisper, willing my arms to help me escape him. “No!” I cry louder, kicking my legs as I begin to crawl away from him.

  “Don’t be a fucking cunt,” he bellows, grabbing hold of my ankle. “I’ve been waiting for a piece of your ass since the moment I laid eyes on you. You’re the prize, sweetheart—so shut your fucking mouth until I tell you otherwise.”

  His yell sounds different—the tone of his voice triggering a memory. Except, I can’t place it. I’m too consumed with fear. I scream, earning me a boot in my stomach, and it hurts so much I almost vomit. Only, I can’t remember the last time I ate something, so I gag instead.

  My sob gets stuck in my throat when the bigger guy grabs hold of my arms, pinning me down so I’m flat on my back. The man who’s doing all the talking stands and removes his mask. My eyes widen in surprise when I see Wayne Holden before me. I’ve met him before. He’s on our witness list. He was Royce Bridgewater’s supervisor. Janet said he was a family friend. He’s supposed to testify on Royce’s behalf.

  None of this makes sense!

  I struggle against the arms t
hat hold me down, my mind racing to piece together what I don’t understand. I cry out as he starts to unbuckle his black jeans, but then—in the blink of an eye—he’s on his knees, yelping in pain. I don’t realize a shot has been fired, hitting him in the back of the leg, until he’s no longer towering over me. When I see Otto standing in my doorway, a gun in his hand aimed steadily, I stare in complete and utter shock.

  “Let her go,” he demands to the man above me, still holding me down. “I aim true,” he warns. “I suggest you have yourself a seat on that couch unless you want a bullet through your shoulder.” When he doesn’t move fast enough, Otto cocks the gun, encouraging the man. As soon as he lets me go, I scramble across the floor, my limbs almost entirely useless.

  With the gun still trained on the guy sitting on the couch, Wayne bleeding and grunting curse words in frustration on the floor, Otto reaches into his pocket. With tears streaming down my face, I watch as he pulls out a cell phone and dials 9-1-1.

  “Yes, hello. My name is Oscar Whittaker, and I’d like to report a break in. Shots have been fired.”

  I seal my eyes closed tight as he recites our address. He just saved me. My kind, old neighbor just saved me. I’ve never been so relieved in all my life.

  “Now, Sally, the police are on their way. I know you’re scared, but I suggest you call that fella of yours. I suspect he’d want to make sure you’re all right.”

  I nod, fighting a sob as I crawl to my purse. I dig out my phone and find it’s almost dead. I have just enough charge to place one phone call. It’s a couple of minutes to four, and I can’t recall if he’s still in court or not, but his phone rings through to voicemail. The sound of his voice on the recording makes me ache for him, and I know none of this would have happened if I had gone home to him last night.

  Sick to my stomach with regret, I can’t hold back my sob as I tell him, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby—I love you. Please come. Please come get me.”