Beyond Innocence (5 page)

By the time the three-hour flight ended, Serena had put the finishing touches on an exhaustive list of questions for the team at the Justice Clinic. She picked up her luggage and then phoned Ian to let him know she’d landed. After she arranged to meet him at the clinic, she rented a car at the airport and plugged the address into the GPS.

Driving in Dallas was a lot like navigating around Orlando—sprawling highways, lots of suburbs. She had plenty of time, so she took an easy pace, memorizing the details along the way. She’d made a reservation at an extended stay motel, but she’d need to find a regular place to buy groceries, get gas. When she’d lived here before, her only concern was finding her way to and from school on her own, hoping there would be food in the apartment at the end of the day.

The clinic wasn’t located at the college. It was housed in a nondescript building a few blocks from campus. She parked in the ample lot and walked over to Ian who was waiting by the front door. He locked arms with her in an affectionate embrace that obviously came very easily to him. She resisted the impulse to pull away, half wishing she could enjoy closeness instead of avoiding it.

“Good to see you again, Serena. I delivered Eric’s case files to the clinic last week so I imagine they’ve had a chance to get up to speed. I’ll sit in on today’s meeting to help with the transition, and I can provide you with some names of private investigators.” He drew back and gave her a long look. “You made the right choice. These are good people, and some of the best lawyers in the nation work with them.”

She nodded, but saved her words until after she’d had a chance to assess them for herself. Ian led the way into the building, narrating all the way. The off campus location was the result of a generous donation from a group of prominent defense lawyers. A major benefit was free parking, a scarce commodity at the college, hence the off-site location.

Serena barely listened to his rambling tour. A long list of questions occupied her thoughts, and she was anxious about meeting the attorneys who would head up Eric’s case. Ian rapped on an office door, but barely waited a second before sticking his head in. “Paul, Serena Washington’s here to see you.” He gestured for her to follow him into the large, but modestly furnished office.

A burly, bearded man stood to greet her. He wore khakis, a white oxford shirt, and a tweed blazer, and he looked more professor than lawyer. His weathered face told her he’d seen his share of more than a classroom. His handshake was strong and firm. “Ms. Washington, I’m Paul Guthrie. Pleasure to meet you.”

He held her hand long enough to convey his sincerity. She read kind resolve in his eyes and instantly trusted him—a rare occurrence. When he let go, he pointed across the room. Serena followed the direction of his gesture. He spoke, but she didn’t hear a word he said. The tall brunette standing across the room wore a hint of a smile, but her silent welcome wasn’t enough to explain why Serena felt warmth course through her belly. As she took in the woman’s chiseled features and sea-green eyes, she recognized the feeling she’d spent years struggling against. She was no stranger to the pull of attractive women, but a fierce determination to never be like her mother―dependent on others―had always given her the strength to keep her distance. Casual dates, playful touching, but never passion, fervor, or craving. Captivated by the contrast between this woman’s kind eyes and gentle smile and her commanding presence, she couldn’t remember the last time attraction had paralyzed her, threatened to consume her. She wasn’t sure it ever had. No one had ever made her feel so unsettled. That the person to rouse these undeniable feelings was here, in this place where she’d come to find help for her brother, meant she would have to be more vigilant than ever.

*

Cory had followed Melinda into the building. She whispered, “What is this place?”

“This place is you, avoiding a hearing. Your wish is my command.” She pulled Cory aside. “It’s the Alfred T. Linney Justice Clinic. Surely you’ve heard of it?”

Cory’s back stiffened. “Is this some kind of joke?” Like most attorneys at the DA’s office, she was familiar with the Linney clinic since they worked like rabid dogs to undo all the hard work she and all the other prosecutors did on behalf of the citizens of Dallas County. The clinic was funded primarily by a generous endowment and operated with assistance from the law school at Richards University, a local college.

“I can’t do this. Seriously, Mel, what am I supposed to do here? I’ll be conflicted out of half the cases they have.”

“Take a deep breath, girl. They’ll erect a Chinese wall for any cases out of Dallas County.” Melinda referred to provisions taken within a law firm or office to shield communications about a particular case from attorneys who might represent clients in conflicting matters. She mimicked gentle breathing as if she could coax Cory into relaxation. It wasn’t working. Cory was only just beginning to get ramped up.

“I’m not kidding. Schedule the hearing. I’ll go down in flames quicker that way.”

Melinda grabbed her arm and squeezed hard, apparently giving up all pretense of being soothing. “I’m all for a hearing, but if we have one, I’m not prepared to lose. That means that I’ll be a rabid bulldog hell-bent on showing the hearing examiner the Cory Lance I know wouldn’t withhold evidence in a first-degree felony trial. Are you prepared for battle?”

Cory sagged. Doing battle in the courtroom was what she did best. A state bar examiner’s hearing, being judged by her peers, wasn’t familiar and wasn’t home turf. Too many variables she couldn’t control, and she knew Melinda well enough to know she wouldn’t rest until she got to the bottom of what had happened with the Nelson case. Those details could and should remain buried. Maybe she could handle this penance for a little while.

“How long?”

“Two months.”

“That’s practically forever.”

“It is not. It’d take longer to get a hearing.”

“Why this place?”

“Paul Guthrie, the senior staff attorney, is an old friend of mine, and he agreed to take you on. And I figured a little work for the other side would help your reputation. The state bar folks ate it up.

“Look, you can sit at home wondering what’s going to happen to you or you can work here and get on with your life. Your choice.” Melinda tapped her fingers on Cory’s shoulder, waiting.

Cory did a quick mental inventory. Not a choice really. Hell, she was here already. May as well at least check it out. Two months wasn’t enough time to get too involved.

Paul Guthrie, the clinic director, greeted her like a long-lost friend. Cory struggled not to let suspicion about his motives color their first meeting. Melinda made sure she was settled in before abandoning her to her adversaries. Cory looked around the room, but there was only the one escape route. Paul grinned at her as if he knew what she was thinking, and then motioned her into a chair and launched into a brief orientation.

“Lucky you could be here this morning. We have a new client coming in, and I’d like you to sit in to see how we conduct intake. My understanding is that this one’s on a short timeline so we’ll have to jump on it if we’re going to take it on.”

“Where did the case originate?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve already screened the cases you’ll be working on. None from Dallas. This one’s from Rinson County.”

Cory sighed. She knew a lot of the prosecutors in the neighboring county, but other than what she read in the paper, didn’t keep up with their case load. Rinson was a primarily rural county and a well-known bastion of conservatism. No surprise when juries handed out death sentences. “How about a thumbnail sketch?”

“In five words or less: bad eyewitness testimony, racial profiling.”

“No DNA?”

“This isn’t a very old case, so normally they would’ve done testing, but the DA’s office says there were no usable samples.”

“Happens sometimes.”

“I know, but it’s not the norm.”

“You think they’re withholding evidence.” Cory didn’t even try to hide the rising defensive tone in her voice.

Paul shrugged. “I don’t have any reason to believe they are or they aren’t. They convicted him on kidnapping and murder, but not rape. They only used the allegation of rape as an issue during punishment. If they’d had DNA evidence he was the rapist, they would’ve added sexual assault to the list of charges. So I don’t know what the deal was, but we’ll need to review their whole file if we’re going to have a shot at a writ of habeas corpus.”

And that was the problem. Getting access to a prosecutor’s complete file was a battle, pre and post trial. The law may require that exculpatory evidence be turned over to the defense, but the frontline decision about what was exculpatory was one made by the prosecutor, which made for a chicken and egg dilemma. Better not engage until necessary. Instead, Cory asked a safer question. “If the defendant’s in prison, who are we meeting with?”

“His sister. She flew in from Florida this morning.” He glanced at the doorway to his office. “I think this is her now.” Paul stood and waved at the man entering his office. “Come in. Sorry, our receptionist only works part time, and today’s her day of freedom.”

Cory stood and shook hands with the tall, thin man that she recognized as Ian Taylor, an appellate attorney with a solid reputation. He stepped away and motioned toward the door at a tall African-American woman whose bearing suggested a healthy mixture of pride and humility. And she was gorgeous. So beautiful Cory had to force her gaze away when she realized she’d been staring. She pushed away the confusing sensations and appraised her with a keen sense of intuition, well honed during years of searching for the truth.

She wore a skirt suit with straight lines, not very expensive, but well cared for. Mid-level heels, a medium sized simple handbag, and plain gold accessories. Nothing she had on appeared to be new, and she wore her outfit with the ease of someone who dresses up on a regular basis, not just for visits to an attorney’s office. A professional. A strikingly beautiful professional whose modest attire couldn’t hide her attributes. Cory remembered Paul’s words: “racial profiling.” This woman must be the client’s sister. How could this attractive, put together woman be associated with a killer waiting for his execution date?

“Serena Washington, meet Cory Lance. I asked Cory to sit in on our discussion because she may be doing some work on your brother’s case.”

She shook Serena’s offered hand and held it a beat longer than she intended, but her warm, firm grasp begged to be savored. At least that’s how she felt. Serena seemed frozen in place, her gaze fixed firmly on Cory’s hand in hers, her expression unreadable. When she finally let go, Serena moved back a few steps. The distance immediately chilled the air between them. Paul started talking, but all Cory could think about was how to reconnect with Serena.

“Have a seat, everyone.” Paul picked up a file from his desk. “I’ve read the summary Ian prepared. Looks like there may have been a few issues we can explore that might be ripe for a writ.” He directed his attention to Serena. “Have you hired an investigator yet?”

Ian spoke for her. “We plan to work on that today. Ms. Washington came here directly from the airport.”

“Cory, I bet you have some good contacts.”

Paul’s voice startled her out of her staring. “Contacts?”

“For a private investigator?”

“Sure. No problem.” She lied. She didn’t work with private investigators. She worked with cops and the finest investigators the DA’s office had on staff. Not a likely pool of candidates to try to clear a death row inmate. Still, something kept her from expressing her disdain in Serena’s presence. She barely knew her and she couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing her. Well, that would have to change. She didn’t plan to be around long enough to get involved in this woman’s or her brother’s lives and she didn’t plan on getting too involved in any of the cases the clinic handled. She’d do simple tasks, bide her time, and get back to the life she knew, the one she was passionate about.

Passion. Didn’t the punch in the gut attraction she’d felt when Serena walked in the door foretell passion? She squelched the thought before it could take hold. No good came of feelings reeling out of control.

Paul stood. The meeting was apparently over. “Let me know who you hire. I’ll want to meet them, but Cory will be primary liaison. Cory, why don’t you huddle with Ian and Ms. Washington and we can talk later about our next steps?”

Cory shot a look at Serena. Her expression of displeasure surprised her. She didn’t necessarily want to huddle with the sister of a clinic client, but she hadn’t expected a reciprocal reaction. Especially not after the sparks she’d felt during their handshake. Could she have imagined a mutual attraction? Didn’t matter. She had work to do if she was going to find her way back to the job she loved, and she wasn’t about to let anything get in the way.

*

Something about Cory Lance was familiar in an unsettling way. Serena watched her closely during the meeting with Paul. By the time the meeting ended, she was convinced she had never met Cory. She’d remember if she had. She’d taken every opportunity to study her, and while she pretended her interest was purely professional, it wasn’t. Attraction fueled her close inspection. Distracting attraction, obsession almost. Cory was a forceful magnet, and her steely resolve was no match for her pull. It would have to be. She’d risked everything to come here, to work on Eric’s case. She had to remain focused.

When Paul suggested she “huddle” with Cory, she opened her mouth to protest, but shut it again when she realized she didn’t have a clue what to say. I can’t possibly work with someone who makes my insides melt? Don’t you have any other attorneys who aren’t so attractive? Can I work with a man? She listened to her internal litany and gave in to Paul’s request. She’d managed all these years; surely she could keep it together for a bit longer.

As they walked out of Paul’s office, Cory spoke to Ian. “How about lunch? We can talk while we eat.” She reached into her suit pocket. “Oh shit. I just realized I don’t have my car with me.”