Beyond Innocence (19 page)

Wilkins glanced around as if he were afraid of an invisible disapproving audience. “Same as me. We all walked out together.”

Cory heard Serena expel a heavy breath. If Nancy hadn’t walked out of the bar until three a.m., no way did the other witness see her arguing in the parking lot with Eric hours earlier. Still, it wasn’t enough. She nodded to Skye to keep going. They had to pin him down.

“Are you aware an eyewitness testified at trial that he saw Eric Washington arguing with Nancy, and that he forced her into his car and drove away?”

“I heard that. Didn’t happen.”

“And you’re sure?”

“Damn straight. She worked in that bar all night. Didn’t leave until we all walked out. She got in her car and left.”

“Any idea why,” Cory glanced at her notes for the name of the eyewitness, “Dale Bolton, would have lied about what happened?”

“I don’t pretend to know what goes on in the mind of anyone but me. All I can tell you is it didn’t happen.”

His insistence rang true, but Cory pressed on. “If you knew he was lying, why didn’t you say something at the time?”

“Weren’t my business and nobody asked. I’m not the law. I’m just a hard-working man who didn’t want any trouble. That boy, he wasn’t ever up to any good.”

Cory knew he was talking about Eric. She despised this miserable human being. Talk about no good. She didn’t even try to hide her disdain. “What gave you a sudden attack of conscience?”

He took a deep breath from the mask before fixing her with a stare. He picked up a Bible from the table next to him. “Death. I’m going to meet my maker soon. Time to unburden my soul lest it’s too heavy to enter the gates of heaven.”

The Bible in his hands didn’t show any signs of wear. Cory bet it was brand new, just like his born-again conscience. Death makes people do strange things; maybe he was telling the truth. She wanted to believe him. After all, he had nothing to gain by coming forward now. It still wasn’t quite enough, but she needed every piece of evidence she could get to make the puzzle of Eric’s fate come out differently.

“How sick are you?” She knew the question seemed blunt, but if he was going to keel over soon, they needed to work fast to preserve his statement. The potential irony of him dying before Eric and thereby sealing Eric’s fate, was too much to handle.

“Doc says it could happen any time.”

Cory stood. “Thanks for coming forward,” she said with gratitude she didn’t feel. All she really felt was anger. Anger that he’d lied in the first place. Anger that he still held on to his bigotry even in the face of death. But displaying her anger now wouldn’t do Eric any good. Besides, Serena was the one who had the right to be angry. She forced herself to focus on what they still needed. “Ms. Keaton’s going to need to get your written statement, and you’ll need to swear to it. You’ll do that?” She barely waited for his nod before addressing Serena. “We should go. Skye, can I speak to you outside for a minute?”

Serena stood, but before she left the room, she stuck her hand in Wilkins’s direction. “Thank you.” Wilkins actually teared up at the exchange. Cory scrutinized Serena’s face, but she read nothing but sincere gratitude. Serena had a bigger heart than she did.

Once out on the porch, Cory turned to Skye. “You know what to do, right? His statement has to be ironclad. It might be enough to get that discovery order we need. I don’t want us to lose because he dropped dead before the judge gets all his questions answered.”

“I know what to do.” Skye bounced on the balls of her feet, obviously anxious to get back in there and do what she did best.

“I know you do. Call me when you have it. I’m going to head back and start drafting the motion now. As soon as you’re done, we’re going to need to find this Dale Bolton. He’s the key.” She turned to Serena. “Ready to get out of here?”

Serena shot one last look at Wilkins’s door, but Cory couldn’t read her expression. “Absolutely.”

*

The ride back to the clinic seemed long. Cory didn’t speak and Serena didn’t try to engage her in conversation since it was obvious her brain was whirring at top speed. Her brow was furrowed and her lips moved in silent conversation as if she were ticking off items on an internal checklist. Beautiful, kissable lips. Cory, focused and fierce, aroused her. Serena turned her gaze out the passenger side window and forced herself to remember how little she’d trusted Cory just a short while ago. She didn’t need the distraction of anything personal. Neither of them did.

She didn’t want to talk anyway. Her mind churned with possibilities. If Wilkins had lied, maybe other witnesses had lied as well. Would Skye and Cory be able to use this new information to get Eric a new trial? Would a new trial have a different result, or would Eric be back in the same position all over again? Had Eric’s trial attorneys spoken with Wilkins and this Dale Bolton before the first trial? Had they even tried to figure out the truth, or had they only played defense?

If Eric got another chance, Serena vowed to do everything within her power to make sure he was well represented. She’d ask Cory for the name of the best defense attorney she’d ever tried a case against and she’d figure out a way to get the money to hire that person. If the dying old man they’d just left was an example of the type of witness the state had used to send Eric to death row, then he had to get another chance. Didn’t he?

When they turned into the clinic parking lot, Cory finally spoke. “I want to get a draft of this motion done today so we can file it as soon as possible. Sorry we won’t get to spend the rest of the day together, but this is the boring part of the job. Me, sitting at my computer, typing.” Cory offered a grin and Serena smiled back.

“I understand.” She opened the door. Cory wanted to get to work. She wanted Cory to get to work. But she wanted something more. She hesitated. “About today, this morning, I’m sorry for assuming…you know…” She didn’t remember the last time she’d been this much at a loss for words.

Cory shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. You love your brother. You want the best for him. I get it.”

Serena nodded. Cory got it. She should trust her. She wanted to. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes. Maybe Skye will have some info for us on Bolton.”

“Great.” Serena turned to leave, but Cory called her name. “Yes?”

“Are you tired of eating in your motel room?”

The non sequitur threw Serena for a moment. “What?”

“Why don’t you come over tonight? For dinner?” Cory looked as flustered as Serena felt, but she kept talking. “At my place? I mean, I could pick up some groceries and we could play around in my big kitchen.” She actually blushed. “I mean cook. Nothing fancy, but a home-cooked meal. I can write down directions for you to get there.” Cory ended her ramble abruptly. Adorable. There was nothing Serena would rather do than join her for dinner. Lost in Cory’s blush, she realized there
was
something she would like to do more, and the realization made her own face flush.

“I’ll get the groceries. And I remember how to get there. Call me when you’re ready.” Serena walked away before either one of them could change their minds.

Cory uncorked the best bottle in her collection. Serena would be there any minute. With groceries. For dinner. With her.

Why had she asked her over? Silly question. She knew the answer. She wanted to see her, outside of the office, not about the case. She wanted their proximity to be about the slow boil of attraction instead of their circumstances. Did Serena feel it too? Surely she wouldn’t have agreed to come over if she didn’t. Or maybe she thought this dinner was a business meeting, an opportunity to discuss the work Cory had done after they parted ways earlier in the day.

She hoped not. Especially since she didn’t have anything noteworthy to report. She’d rushed into the clinic offices, excited about the prospect of penning a winning argument. Her excitement fizzled quickly when she greeted the somber faces of the other staff attorneys in the conference room.

She’d completely forgotten about the execution scheduled for the next day. Michael Young. A clinic client who’d killed his entire family with an axe in a bloody evening killing spree. He’d been caught literally red-handed and there was no doubt he’d committed the crime, but Michael was mentally retarded and the state wasn’t allowed to kill those folks whose IQ was so low they may not understand the process. The problem was no one had raised the issue previously even though the evidence was readily available. If they couldn’t figure out a creative argument, they might be barred from raising the issue now and Michael would meet the needle the following evening. All hands were on deck to work on a brief to the appellate court.

She had cornered Paul at the coffee maker and given him a snapshot of what she’d learned from Wilkins.

His reply was rushed. “Sounds like you got something to work with, but we need your help on this case today. A couple of the interns are researching the jurisdictional part of the brief. They need a guiding hand. We need to get it filed by six to allow the Criminal Court of Appeals time to reject us and still be able to refile with the Supreme Court tomorrow. Eric’s case has to wait.”

Cory had worked her ass off the rest of the day, cobbling together an argument to convince the higher court to overlook technicalities in favor of justice. Appellate work was new for her. She spent her days in the courtroom, making things happen, not hunkered down in the law library figuring out how to reverse events that had already taken place. She wasn’t afraid of a good fight, but she couldn’t imagine spending her days fighting uphill battles the way the clinic attorneys did. Every day, every fight was an all-out war. And because of the nature of the cases, they came out bloody and their clients remained incarcerated, or worse, were killed by the state. Depressing.

The doorbell rang and Cory shook herself out of her blue mood. In seconds, Serena would be in her house, drinking her wine, cooking dinner with her. She couldn’t think of a better cure for depression.

*

Serena shifted the grocery bags and struggled to reach the doorbell. She’d blown her food budget to live up to Cory’s amazing kitchen. The front desk clerk at the hotel had recommended Central Market when she’d asked for the best grocery store around, and she’d spent over an hour wandering the aisles selecting the perfect fresh foods for their dinner. The abundance of choices stood in stark contrast to her memories of her childhood when she and Eric spent only seconds figuring out which can to open or which box to defrost in order to feed themselves every evening.

After checking out everything in the store, she settled on a simple meal of steaks, salad, and new potatoes. She’d add her own special touches, but she knew she didn’t want her entire focus to be on preparation of the food. When she arrived at Cory’s house, she murmured a quiet thank you for her own good judgment. Cory wore faded blue jeans like a second skin. A slightly rumpled, untucked, white oxford shirt was open just enough to tease her gaze. No, food would not be the focus of their evening.

“Hi, there.”

“Hi. I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving.”

“Good.”

Serena shifted the bags again and Cory jumped forward, arms outstretched. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m the rudest person on earth.”

Serena pushed one of the bags into Cory’s arms. “Not the rudest.”

“Thank goodness. I have something to work toward.” Cory stepped closer, but she didn’t reach for the other bag, instead merely lingering in Serena’s personal space. Serena struggled not to step closer. “Come on. Show me back to your kitchen. I’m going to put you to work.” She didn’t wait for an answer, but walked confidently in the direction she thought she remembered the kitchen was located. Cory trailed behind her, and she could smell the musky hint of her cologne. Even out of her sight, she was captivating.

Cory set the bags on the counter and offered her a glass of wine.

“A small glass. I have to drive later.” She didn’t intend to drink even that, but she didn’t want to break the spell between them with her personal fears.

“Hopefully, you’ll stick around long enough to wear off a full glass of wine.” Cory stood close, the bottle in one hand, a glass in the other. She poured the glass, a three-quarter full compromise, and placed it in Serena’s hand. Seconds ticked away as they both held the glass. Serena stopped breathing as if she could suspend time long enough to bask in the light touch of Cory’s fingers barely meeting hers. Cory pulled closer. “At least I hope you will.”

Torn between surrender and keeping her guard, she resorted to her favorite method of personal protection, avoidance. She stepped back and pointed at the grocery bags. “I recall you said you were starving.”

“I am.”

Uh oh. Cory’s knowing smile conveyed her hunger had nothing to do with food. More distance necessary. Now. She reached into the nearest bag and began pulling out several bags of produce. “Then start chopping. When you’re done, you can put these in a bowl and bring them back to me. Make sure and wash them first.” She tried to think of more steps to keep Cory busy, but those would do for now. “Now, tell me where you keep your bowls.”

Cory used a knife to point out a couple of cabinets. “Care to tell me what we’re making?”

“You’re working on the salad.”

“I see peaches in here.”

“You are very observant. That come in handy in your line of work?”

Cory tossed a slice of peach across the kitchen. Serena pointed to the floor where it landed. “Not much of an athlete, are you?”

“I can hold my own. Would you like me to show you my particular skills?”

Damn, the banter only kept getting more suggestive. Serena bent over the skillet she had heating on the stove. She knew if she made eye contact with Cory or even bantered back, she’d be finished. Finished preparing this meal, finished avoiding the attraction, finished denying what she desired. Ignoring Cory’s suggestive query, she asked the most innocuous question she could think of. “How do you like your steak cooked?”