by E. M. Shea
“Your Honor,” said the state prosecutor. “The arresting officer isn’t here yet. He called a few minutes ago to say he’s stuck in traffic but should be here any moment.”
“Well, isn’t that fitting,” the judge said with a slight grin as low-level laughter rolled across the courtroom.
“Actually,” the prosecutor announced. “He’s here now.”
All heads turned as the court door swung open. Hunk-arama, Dani silently mused as the non-uniformed officer confidently strode through the entrance. Like a cat fixated on a mouse, she followed his every step towards the bench near the prosecutor’s table, his solid, six-foot-one frame filling out his business casual outfit in all the right places.
Suddenly, she froze. No … it couldn’t be. Stretching out her neck just short of self-imposed whiplash, she squinted her eyes for a honed-in view. Yep—it was him. The same officer who had turned the first half of her day into a complete tailspin. How can that be? In search of an answer, Dani flipped open the case file folder and quickly scanned through about half a dozen documents, pausing on the police report just long enough to confirm that Nick had been the arresting officer. The name hadn’t jumped out at her when she reviewed everything two weeks ago in preparation for the hearing, but then again, why would it? Not until she had spotted Nick’s signature on the speeding ticket had it become a name that would live in infamy. But now here they both were. Together again. And once more under less-than-happy circumstances.
As Nick took a seat at the prosecution table, the judge motioned to the prosecutor. “You may approach the bench.”
“Your Honor,” he began. “The state will show, through the testimony of Sergeant Nick Bellamy of the Cedarsville Police Department, that the defendant, Sean Colby, was texting while driving on July second. Furthermore, it will show that Sergeant Bellamy witnessed the defendant driving erratically and in a manner that indicated he was texting on his phone. Upon pulling the defendant over, he confiscated the phone and was able to confirm that text messages had been exchanged by the defendant, and with two different recipients, while driving.”
Summoned to the witness stand, Nick reiterated the prosecutor’s assertions in an even, just-the-facts manner. Meanwhile, Dani struggled to regain her equilibrium after having been temporarily thrown off her game. It wasn’t possible to be an effective lawyer without expecting the unexpected. In fact, part of always managing to stay a step ahead was thinking of all the ways a court hearing could wrong—and having a backup plan for each potential pitfall. But this was not a scenario that could possibly have been on her radar.
“Would defense counsel like to examine the witness?”
Did you mean naked? Dani cleared her throat. Where did that thought come from? She wanted to kick herself in the ass, but gravity-defying gymnastics would have to wait. Instead, she shifted her attention to the judge. “Yes, your Honor.” She then stood up from her chair, finally making eye contact with Nick. Up until this point, his handsome face was locked into a look of a casual determination—as in, I know he’s guilty, so let’s just get this done. As she approached him, she noticed a curve on his lips that was something just short of a smile. At the very least, it was not the usual scowl that she was accustomed to seeing on opposing witnesses who were about to be questioned. But then, recognition set in. His gray eyes bulged as he shifted in his seat. Okay, there was the scowl now. And damn, it was an intimidating one.
Yeah, well, two can play that game. She returned his heated stare with her own singe-worthy gaze. “Sergeant Bellamy, you testified that you witnessed the defendant, Sean Colby, texting on his phone while driving. Given that—based on your own testimony—you made this observation from within your vehicle and at a distance of approximately fifty feet, can you please tell the court how you can be certain my client was using his phone?”
Even from where she stood, Dani could see Nick’s jaw visibly tighten.
“Like I said earlier,” he replied, a slight testiness to his otherwise unemotional and confident voice. “I observed the witness looking downward for an extended period of time, during which his north-bound vehicle had crossed over into the south-bound lane.”
“Yes, I do recall you saying that. However, is it possible that he was looking downwards at something other than a phone? Perhaps a bee that flew in the window? A piece of lint on his pants?”
“A piece of … are you serious?”
“Yes or no, Sergeant.” With Nick now on the hot seat, the tables weren’t just turned from their earlier encounter—they were flipped upside down. And in a mud pit. The kind that it appeared Nick wished he could bury Dani in at that moment.
“He was clearly looking down in the way that someone does when they’re on their—”
Dani turned to the judge. “Your Honor, can you please instruct the witness to answer yes or no?”
“Noted,” she concurred. “Sergeant Bellamy, please answer the question in a yes or no manner.”
“Yes,” Nick answered through gritted teeth.
“Sergeant,” Dani began, “you also testified that text messages had been sent from the defendant’s phone at 2:47 and 2:53 p.m. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you pulled the defendant over and witnessed these messages at 2:58 p.m. Is that also correct?”
Nick readjusted himself in his chair as though sitting on hot coals. “Yes.”
Gotch ya. “Let the record show that there is a convenience store approximately one-point-four miles from where the defendant was stopped by Sergeant Bellamy. My client is prepared to testify that it was at this store—while parked on the roadside—that he sent these messages.”
“Oh, come on,” Nick loudly protested.
“Sergeant, please refrain from speaking out of order,” the judge sternly noted.
His sigh was caught on the microphone. “Your Honor, may I ask the defense counsel a question?”
“You may.”
Nick turned back to Dani. “Do you have video surveillance from the store to prove that he was parked there?”
“My client was parked across the street, approximately sixty feet ahead of the store—which is out of camera range.”
“How convenient,” he muttered.
There’s my opening, and I’m diving in headfirst. She quickly turned to the judge. “Your Honor, in light of this new information, I respectfully ask the court to dismiss all charges against my client.”
The judge pursed her lips as she studied Dani for a moment, then Nick. She looked over at the prosecutor who was still seated, but with a look of defeat etched across his annoyed face.
“Mr. Sampson, will you please approach the bench.”
After several minutes of hushed discussion, the prosecutor returned to his seat.
Tapping her gavel on the bench, the judge addressed the court. “I hereby rule that this case is dismissed due to a lack of sufficient evidence.”
Dani stole a quick glance at Nick, who looked utterly surprised by the verdict—and about as overjoyed as she had felt when receiving his hand-delivered speeding ticket. Turning back to speak with Sean, she realized he was already heading out of the courtroom. Oh, no you don’t, she thought as she caught up to him and grabbed his sleeve.
“What?” he asked indignantly. “We’re done here.”
He started again for the main exit at the end of the hall, but this time Dani yanked him back with such force that he catapulted onto one of several chairs lining the wall. She seated herself next to him. “Not so fast.”
Arms defiantly crossed, Sean half sulked while still managing to shoot dagger eyes her way.
“Look, I get it,” she said in a low voice as court-goers shuffled past them. “You managed to get off scot-free and you think that’s the end of it. So let me just make one thing clear. I took your case because I really had no choice. Your dad is good friends with my boss, and it’s not like I had a say in the matter. At least not this time, but I will the next. Because something tells
me you’ll find yourself in this situation again very soon. And if I’m asked to save your ass once more, I will politely—but firmly—decline. You may think you’re invincible, that deadly accidents because of stupid behavior only happen to other kids, but believe me—it can happen to you. Or even worse, you could end up killing someone else. And honestly, you may think I’m a jerk right now for saying all of this, but it’s my hope that that there’s still a chance you’ll grow into a decent human being who cares about something other than yourself.” He met her stare before looking away at an imaginary spot on the ceiling. “Not that you will,” she added, always hedging her bets, “but that’s what I’m hoping.”
Sean sighed impatiently. “Okay. Can I go now?”
Realizing her words had accomplished nothing, Dani was tempted to throw her hands up in the air. But it seemed like a waste of muscle power. “Fine. Go.”
Leaning back against the wall, she took a deep breath as her eyes trailed Scott on his way out of the courthouse. She had a habit of holding stress in her neck and shoulders, and today was no exception. Bowing her head down, she massaged the growing knot in her left shoulder.
“So,” a now all-too-familiar voice declared. “Turns out you actually know a lot about the cellphone driving laws in the state. Enough to get some bratty rich kid off the hook.”
Dani popped her head up so quickly that she strained a muscle in her other shoulder. “Ouch!”
Nick stood just a foot away, his well-packed crotch at eye level. “I guess the truth hurts.”
“I just pulled a muscle in my … never mind.” Dani forced a smile. “What can I say? I’m a fast learner.”
Nick shook his head. “You lawyer types are too much.”
“Remember that the next time you’re in trouble and you need someone to get your ass off the hook.”
Dani’s cheeks reddened. Did she actually just call out the ass … the no doubt chiseled, tight-muscled ass … of the police officer who had ticketed her that very morning? And even worse—insinuate that he was capable of doing something illegal? In truth, it was an automatic response that she kept tucked away in her brain, always ready to pull out for moments like this when someone was criticizing her role as a defense attorney. Next time, she would be more careful about lashing out at someone who could lash right back in the form of, what, an overpriced ticket for parking a half inch too close to the curb? But for now, the damage was done.
“You know, some police officers would have you arrested for saying something like that.”
Dani held her breath. Let it go. Don’t say anything. It’s not worth it. Ah, the hell with that idea. “Probably. But they’re the same cops I would be taking on in court—and winning, I might add, thanks to the First Amendment right for free speech.”
“Oh, I know,” Nick replied, almost too calmly. “But you didn’t let me finish. I was going to say those are the cops who act first and think later. I prefer the opposite.”
Dani couldn’t be sure where he was going with this. “Which means?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Let’s just say if I were you, I would definitely be very careful about sticking to the speed limit when you’re cruising around town on the way to get another criminal off the hook.”
“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” Dani stood up from the chair and smoothed out creases, both real and imagined, in her brown pinstripe blazer. Momentarily locking eyes with Nick, she almost thought she saw a hint of curiosity mixed in with, well, the word contempt seemed apropos.
“You have a nice day, Sergeant,” she said curtly, adding a stilted smile that had all the warmth of a frown.
“Same to you,” he said with a nod, equally insincere.
And with that, Dani spun on her heels and headed for the exit, one thought rising above all others.
Why do all the good-looking guys have to be such assholes?
Chapter Three
Nick readjusted his lifting gloves, took a deep breath, and then hoisted the 200-pound weight above his head. He held it for several seconds, certain he could feel the stress exit his body as it made way for the adrenaline that coursed through his veins. Though he let it down gradually, the weight still slammed loudly into the bench press holder, but he didn’t mind the noise. It was a welcome interruption into his thoughts of the day’s earlier court appearance—an anything-but-pleasant grilling that he had been smarting from ever since. Yes, texting-while-driving cases were notoriously difficult to prove. Short of a time-stamped picture of someone tapping away, car window down with an acceleration-induced breeze rustling through their hair … it was easy enough for the defense to stir up reasonable doubt. But staring down at a piece of lint on his pants? Seriously?
Another heave and hold, and the weight clanged back into place, louder than before. I should have doubled her speeding fine, Nick grumbled inwardly, though he wasn’t naïve enough to think that even quadrupling the amount would make the slightest dent in her overpaid lawyer’s bank account. Besides, he didn’t operate that way. It was just that he couldn’t help but feel he had been railroaded on the stand in what normally would have been a routine—heck, he would even use the word dull—hearing that should have resulted in a justified conviction. But instead, Ms. Hotshot Attorney strutted in on her long legs, and with a flick of her slithering tongue, got the case against her client dropped despite what was obviously his guilt.
That’s right, he doubled down to himself. Long legs and slithering tongue. Make that long, toned legs and a slithering tongue that spilled forth from full, pillowy soft lips. Nick let the thought linger for several moments, then shook his head and stood up from the weight bench. What was he thinking? Yes, she was an attractive woman—if one could overlook the cutthroat lawyer that lurked within. Uh huh. Underneath those pinstripes was a win-at-all-costs attorney. Mean. Devious. Calculating. And naked.
Enough. Time for a shower, he concluded forcefully, glad for the chance to wash away unwanted, revolving thoughts. Twenty minutes later, he was in front of his locker in the department changing room as other officers milled about. Pulling a clean sweatshirt over his head, he rummaged through his duffle bag to make sure he had everything he needed, then shut the locker door and turned to leave.
“Hold on. You forgot something, Sarge,” Gus Granger said. The big-bodied officer—also known as the precinct clown—waited for the other officers to gather around before pulling a leopard-print thong from behind his back. He dangled it between two stubby fingers, his equally thick pinky extended sideways as though he were a gentrified Brit about to sip afternoon tea.
Nick sighed and rolled his eyes, which only served to egg Gus on further. He waved the thong in the air before holding it up against his crotch, clumsily thrusting his pelvis back and forth like an arthritic Elvis.
Howls of laughter echoed through the changing room. Normally Nick would be chuckling the loudest, except that this time, the joke was clearly on him.
“All right, all right,” he muttered. “Keep it in your pants.” As Gus continued to gyrate with the thong plastered against his bulging inseam, he added, “And I do mean that literally.”
Gus tossed the thong to Officer Joel Theroux, who caught it with one hand and began twirling it like a baton.
“Sorry, Sarge,” Gus offered half-heartedly as he wiped away laugh-induced tears. “I couldn’t resist. Me and the guys heard that you’re doing the charity date auction next week. We wanted to make sure you got the highest bid, so we figured we’d help you put the family jewels on full display.”
“Yeah, well, speaking of families, this is a family-friendly event,” Nick replied as the thong flew through the air and landed on Officer Chuck Caruso’s head.
When he had been approached by the Chamber of Commerce to participate in the auction several months ago, it had seemed like a no-brainer. After all, the opportunity to help raise money for a good cause far outweighed the immediate discomfort he had felt at the notion of parading around on a public stage like a prized pi
ece of meat to be sold to the highest bidder. At the time, he had convinced himself it would all be in good fun. But … as he observed the excruciatingly painful sight of Officer Caruso trading his gym shorts for the thong, and then bending over and twerking with his hairy butt crack on full display … he couldn’t help but question that initial assessment.
“What does Kendra think of all this?” Officer Theroux asked. Nick bristled at the mere mention of his ex-girlfriend’s name.
“Don’t you know?” Gus intervened. “They’re dun-zo. She was two-timing him with some dude from work.”
“Thanks,” Nick said with more than a tinge of sarcasm, feeling anything but grateful to have his personal life on Gus-style blast. Truth was, it still smarted to think of how Kendra was canoodling behind his back, all the while still professing her undying love for him. And she probably would have continued stringing him along had he not discovered her betrayal in one of the most awkward possible ways. Responding to reports of a traffic accident just over a month ago, he had pulled up to a car-meets-tree scenario. Inside were two shaken yet—save for some minor scratches—uninjured individuals: junior stockbroker Kendra and her much older, gazillionaire hedge fund boss. Worse yet? The old geezer’s pants were unzipped, and Kendra was smiling nervously like the cat that had swallowed the canary. Or more precisely, the subordinate who had swallowed the boss. Which, of course, explained why he had lost control of his vehicle and plowed into a tree.
But that was then, and this was now, Nick reminded himself. At the time, he had thought he would never get over such a cruel stab to the heart. And here it was, just shy of five weeks later, and already he was realizing how fate had done him a huge favor by forcing the end to a situation that was bound to fail. Things had seemed promising enough when they had been set up on a blind date just over a year ago by mutual friends. Kendra had just received her MBA and was getting her foot in the door at a prestigious financial planning company as a junior stockbroker, while Nick was working his way up the department ranks with a recent promotion to sergeant.
