Authors: Carsen Taite
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Lesbian, #Contemporary
When a life is on the line, love has to wait. Doesn’t it?
After a devastating professional embarrassment, Cory Lance has been banished from the courtroom. As part of her penance, she volunteers with an organization that works to free the wrongly convicted, and soon she’s saddled with a case certain to set her up for another big defeat. To top it off, she’s battling a strong attraction to her client’s sister, a woman with unreasonable expectations.
Serena Washington has learned to compartmentalize the negative pieces of her past, except for one—her brother, Eric, who is on death row for a murder he insists he didn’t commit. Loyalty drives her to enlist help from an organization with a reputation for unparalleled success, but Serena’s optimism is shaken when she learns the attorney assigned to the case has a reputation for cutting corners. Her whole world is shaken when she begins to fall in love with her.
Beyond Innocence
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Beyond Innocence
© 2012 By Carsen Taite. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-808-7
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: November 2012
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Cindy Cresap
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
Truelesbianlove.com
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Slingshot
Beyond Innocence
All novels start with an idea that rocks around in the writer’s brain for a while until it’s ready to become a full-fledged story. The idea for this story came from D. Jackson Leigh, a generous friend and an awesome storyteller.
I believe in our system of justice, but I also realize it isn’t perfect. When a system isn’t foolproof, the only way to keep it from breaking down is to keep a close and watchful eye on the process and intervene when necessary. The attorneys and staff of the Innocence Project work tirelessly, and for not a lot of money, every day to provide assistance to those individuals for whom the justice system has failed. Thank you to the men and women whose efforts help keep the scales in balance.
Thanks to Len Barot, who despite being in charge of an enormously successful publishing company and being an amazingly prolific writer, still takes the time to give individual attention to all the authors who are lucky enough to be associated with Bold Strokes Books.
VK “Vic” Powell, once again you worked with me up until the very last moments before deadline to fine-tune this manuscript. Thank you. I cherish our friendship.
Cindy, your editorial touches always make me look good. Thanks for your insights and your humor
Sheri, will you ever run out of wonderful cover ideas? I hope not!
To everyone at BSB—thanks for all the things you do behind the scenes to make me and BSB look good.
A big shout out to the women of the Jewel Lesfic Book Club. You always make me feel like a rock star and I value the friendships I’ve made within the group.
Lainey, your support for my dreams makes me feel like anything is possible.
And finally, to all the readers who read my books, watch my vlogs, and take the time to let me know you’d like me to keep writing, I thank you.
To Lainey. Our life, our love is beyond anything
I could have ever imagined.
Cory Lance didn’t spend a lot of time at the back of the courtroom. When she was at work, the well of the courtroom was her showplace.
But today she wasn’t working. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be working as a trial attorney again. Dressed in slacks and an open-necked shirt instead of her usual tailored suit, she stood as far away from the TV cameras and as close to the double-door exit as possible.
Lots of folks had showed up to see justice in action. More than had shown up for the original trial. Typical. The dead man hadn’t had as many friends as the guy now standing in front of the judge. Cory hoped Ray Nelson knew his growing circle of friends was more about the headlines his release would generate than genuine concern for his well-being.
Despite Cory’s attempts to melt into the background, Julie managed to catch her eye and offered a slight nod. Cory resisted smiling in response to the tiny acknowledgment. Frankly, she hadn’t expected any acknowledgment at all. Julie Dalmar looked like she always did. Beautiful, confident, distant. She stood behind the state’s counsel table, ready to bless the agreement that would release Ray Nelson back into the community that had banished him years ago.
Not for the first time, Cory wondered why she’d felt the need to witness this event. Maybe like loved ones who had to see the dead body before burial, she had to see her own destruction to believe it was real. She didn’t have long to dwell on her reasons. Judge Yost took the bench and the cameras started rolling.
“Counsel for the state?”
“Ready, Your Honor.”
“Counsel for the appellee?”
“Ready, Judge.”
Yost shuffled through the papers in her hand, glancing at the pages, more for show than real purpose. This event had been carefully choreographed days in advance. After a few minutes of pretend consideration, the judge set the documents aside and faced Nelson.
“Mr. Nelson, I have in front of me a motion from your lawyers and an accompanying order signed by your attorneys and the attorneys for the state of Texas. Have you had a chance to review the documents that have been filed on your behalf?”
Nelson shot a quick glance at the young male attorney at his side before strangling out his confirmation. The attorney was one of a larger group who’d flown in for this event. Cory wondered if they’d drawn straws to decide which one got to take center stage.
“The parties have asked me to dismiss the case against you and commute your sentence. Do you understand what that means?”
Nelson met her intense gaze and said, “I’ll be a free man as soon as you smack that gavel.” The courtroom erupted in laughter. Even Julie, who never laughed except at her own jokes, faked a chuckle. Wouldn’t want to stand out, Julie, would you? Cory inched closer to the exit. Almost time to go.
Judge Yost continued. “I don’t make a habit of smacking my gavel, but I think today I will make an exception.” She paused and waited until the room grew silent. “Mr. Nelson, the judicial system upon which our country was founded has failed you. I still believe in that system. I am a part of it, and I will work hard as long as I am on the bench to ensure that the system works, that it is fair, that it is just. The system failed you in the past, but today, we shall right this wrong. Today, we recognize the misconduct that placed you behind bars and kept you a prisoner for the past seven years.” Cory edged closer to the door. “I may not have the power to punish the people who are responsible for your fate, but I do have the power to rectify what happened to you. I hereby accept the agreed order filed by your attorneys and the state of Texas, dismiss the case against you, and order the sheriff of Dallas County to release you from custody. Immediately.” She struck her gavel hard against the bench and the courtroom burst into pandemonium.
Cory felt the tide of excitement course through the crowd, and she almost became caught up in the frenzy. Until she heard a man on the row in front of her ask his seatmate, “Isn’t that Cory Lance?” She slipped out the door before he could turn his head. This show was over for her.
*
Serena Washington summoned all her dignity as the uniformed man thrust a plastic dog food bowl in her direction and barked, “Empty the contents of your purse into this tray.”
She endured this, the third such search in the last half hour, without comment. She’d planned ahead, sorting necessities into the smallest handbag she owned before she’d begun the three-hour drive from the Dallas airport to this godforsaken place. She didn’t bother watching the guard as he rummaged through her belongings. Not much there. Her Florida driver’s license, a car key, and two rolls of quarters. The guards at the previous two gates had viewed the sparse contents with suspicion, but she was prepared to explain. She’d combed through the instructions on the website meticulously. The long list of contraband included paper money. She’d decided to be overly cautious and she’d left her wallet in the rental car. Lord knows with the security surrounding this place, it should be safe there.
At the man’s direction, she strode through the metal detector and winced at the loud beep. She stepped to the side and waited while he swept a wand over her entire body almost close enough to touch.
“You wearing any jewelry I can’t see?” he asked with a disinterested tone.
She shook her head. Her simple gold chain and locket were tucked away in her suitcase. She felt naked without the usual accessories to accompany her favorite blue suit, but she’d concentrated hard on getting through this day unnoticed. The plain, professional dress had already caused her to be mistaken for an attorney. He ran the wand across her chest again, and she immediately knew the source of the offending beep. She glanced around, but none of the guards were female. Summoning all the dignity she could muster, she leaned in close to the man and whispered, “It’s my bra.”
He looked puzzled and she wondered if he was new. Surely she couldn’t be the first woman to step through these doors wearing an underwire bra? She tried again. “Underwire. In the bra. I don’t have any other metal on me.”
He nodded, but stepped quickly away from her as if she were an alien. She watched while he conferred with the man monitoring the X-ray machine. They put their heads together and engaged in a lively, whispered discussion for a few seconds before the man with the wand finally waved her through. Apparently, they decided she wouldn’t be able to fashion a weapon out of the tiny piece of wire giving her lift.
She followed the herd of other visitors into a large room. One end was lined with Plexiglas stalls, the other with vending machines. A different guard directed them to sit and then shouted out rules. No knocking on the glass, no attempts at direct contact. “Hold your quarters. We’ll let you know when it’s time to use them.”