Counsel (Counsel #1) (19 page)

"I've gotta go, my daughter will be wondering about me. You can stay and wait, but if I find out you upset or hurt her, I know were to find you," he threatens before shuffling off.

"And if you leave before her, make sure you slip the latch on the side door. I don't want her here on her own with the door unlocked," he orders over his shoulder.

"Yes, sir," I reply, ecstatic at being allowed to stay.

"Murphy... Declan Murphy. Remember what I said," he warns, still-keen, blue eyes bore into mine from his deeply lined face.

"I'm not here to make trouble for Ms. Bain, Mr. Murphy, I promise." He nods tersely and finally walks off. I stare at the closed door for long moments, listening to the haunting music before finding the courage to gently ease it open; my heart all but stops at the sight of her.

She's dressed in something black that covers her arms and legs and molds to her body, showing every lithe curve. She's exquisite in her grace, and I'm spellbound, witnessing what I only recently read about. Even if like me, one’s not crazy about ballet, it's impossible not to feel a deep sense of awe watching Angelique dance. Her performance, now, is achingly haunting, echoing the somewhat melancholic music.

She's totally immersed, unaware of my presence. I carefully shut the door and move into the shadows. The back of the room where I’m standing is bathed darkness; the front, where she's dancing, dimly lit. She moves effortlessly, seemingly floating to the strains of the music. It's apparent that she can still dance, that the horrific accident hasn’t completely robbed her of the ability; so why, I wonder, didn’t she return to performing?

She lowers herself gracefully into a prone position as the music fades, and then rises to her feet moments later to turn off the sound. Walking over to the wall, she raises an arm; I suspect to turn up the lights. I step back, suddenly realizing just how far I’ve intruded on her privacy and how my actions could be misinterpreted. This is the wrong place, the wrong time and definitely the wrong way to approach her. I turn quickly to open the door.

"Hello?" her husky voice calls out nervously. "Declan?" she says more loudly. I hate that I've scared her, but I can't announce my presence. I let the door swing shut as quietly as I can before hurrying to the side door. I make sure to slip the latch before I leave.

It’s no surprise when I wake in the early hours and in a state of arousal from yet another dream. My dreams, like my mind and body, remain a jumbled mess. This time, my visions started off with snippets of the dance routine I witnessed earlier and ended with the same dream I had before, the one of me arriving home to find her asleep in my bed. Without ever having touched her, or even having a meaningful conversation with her, Angelique Bain has managed to turn me inside out… emotionally and physically. I can't remember ever having feelings of such deep tenderness, passion or lust for anyone as those she evokes in my dreams.

Like the time before, I leap into a long, cold shower, and despite how desperately my body clamors for sexual release, I stubbornly refuse to take myself in hand. The memory of what I put her through on the stand, and the thought of what she’d been subjected to at the hands of other men quickly douses any residual lust. I won’t ever do that without her knowledge or permission, I tell myself.

I’ve never, in situations like this, denied myself release, but as I roughly towel myself dry, I concede that I’m in for a world of sexual frustration. I also admit that I no longer know what the fuck I'm doing.

.

.

"Are you sure about this?" I ask as Jon, Jodi and I discuss his Texas trip.

"If what we've been told checks out, then yes. It seems that a girl matching Maria’s description may have been taken to the property in Laredo that Mick O’Flaherty leased for three months before her disappearance. I’d hazard a guess that they used the place as a base to plan and execute her kidnapping and then kept her there until they could safely move her."

"You say O'Flaherty was spotted in Laredo around that time; do we have reliable witnesses?"

"Several people in town claim they saw both him and Perez, and the wife of the old caretaker on the property says she saw Perez. Just before she spotted him, O'Flaherty informed her husband that he no longer needed the place cleaned. He paid him a bonus for them not to come up to the house, saying he was a writer and didn’t want to be disturbed. They didn’t question it, but the wife grew suspicious when she went to retrieve something from the shed and saw Perez carry what appeared to be a young woman or child into the house. She thought the girl was sick the way her head was hanging, so she crept up each day to try and see something.

She caught another glimpse of the girl lying on the sofa. She knocked on the door and told O'Flaherty she'd accidently seen a child who looked sick and offered to help. He said it was just his agent who'd dropped by with his daughter to see how the book was coming along; the girl had suffered a bout of food poisoning but felt well enough for them to travel back home earlier that day. The woman thought no more of it until we turned up asking questions."

"Did she recognize Maria from her photo… and what about O’Flaherty and Perez?"

"She ID'd the men, but couldn't be one hundred percent sure about Maria. Her face was turned away when she saw her, but she confirmed the girl had the same coloring and hair as Maria. The old man also identified O'Flaherty; he didn't see Perez."

"Anything else?" Jodi presses.

"A border patrol officer was murdered at the Colombia Bridge crossing on the night of Maria’s abduction. We're still working with Laredo police to investigate whether his murder is related to Maria's disappearance, but it's a distinct possibility; the timing and Perez's MO fits."

"Do you have a handle on O'Flaherty and Perez’s whereabouts?"

"It appears they received a tip-off that we discovered their hideout and moved on; our leads point to them being in either Santa Fe or Phoenix, and they've probably taken Maria with them. We're working with the authorities in both states to trace them."

"You know what this could mean, don't you?" I ask.

"I think so, but why don't you tell me just in case I'm wrong," Jon replies.

"If either O'Flaherty or Perez is proven responsible for the guard’s murder, Texas will request their extradition. And if it turns out that Joseph ordered or hired them to commit a crime, which resulted in murder, then under Texas law, he can also be charged with murder; and murder, as we know, still attracts the death penalty in that state."

"What do
we
do?" Jodi questions.

"We get Joseph, his brothers and their cohorts convicted and give the people of Massachusetts the justice they deserve. Jon will continue his investigations, and if Joseph and his minions were responsible for that guard’s murder, and the Texas authorities seek extradition, we would already have achieved our goal. We leave the rest to the relevant authorities."

"Adam?" Bec pops her head into my office. "We’ve heard from the jury.

"The jury has reached an impasse," Judge Bolton informs us.

"How does the verdict currently stand, Your Honor?" I ask.

"Guilty; ten to two," he says.

"Will the court be declaring a mistrial, Your Honor?" Tom asks, barely containing his excitement.

"Not quite
yet
, Mr. Martin. I've asked you and Mr. Thorne here to advise you of the current status and to let you know I intend issuing the Allen charge."

Tom looks unhappy but stops short of arguing. His desire to have a mistrial declared is understandable because other than being found innocent, Justin’s best chance of walking free would be through the declaration of a mistrial, and that hope has just been dashed. There’s nothing more either Tom or I can do, except wait to hear the result of the jury’s further deliberations. We leave the judge’s chamber without exchanging a word.

Back at the office, Bec walks in during my debriefing to Jodi.

"What’s it all mean?" she asks.

"Well, as you know, criminal cases require a unanimous verdict to gain a conviction. The jury’s been unable to reach a unanimous decision, and Judge Bolton is probably, as we speak, issuing them with the Allen charge, which dates back to eighteen ninety-six when the courts ruled that a judge had the right to encourage deliberations to continue until a unanimous verdict is reached," I tell her.

"So, it’s good for us?" Bec sounds hopeful.

"It could be; but we all know how unpredictable a jury can be," Jodi replies, causing Bec to scowl.

"Come on, I’ll buy you both a quick lunch at the hole-in-the-wall," I offer.

When we return, I keep busy and try not to think about the jury situation. I, especially, try not to think about Angelique, but my unconscious refuses to cooperate. It keeps returning to the vision of her dancing and what Declan Murphy said about her no longer being able to teach. It upsets me that she’s been singled out for vilification. Mostly, I hate that I played a role in shining the unwelcome spotlight on her.

No matter how justified my actions were, the fact is, that unless her financial circumstances have changed, she could find herself in the same situation that drove her into Joseph Cordi’s world. The thought of that nearly drives me crazy.

"Thank you so much, Adam," Tess gushes from my doorway, bringing me back to the present. The DA readily agreed to my plans for managing the Cordi prosecutions. She was out of the office when I popped in to see her earlier, so I emailed her the news instead.

"It's no problem, and I'm not doing you any favors, Tess. You're good at what you do."

"After my behavior, I really didn't expect that either you or Jodi would want to work with me again. She's okay with this?"

"Jodi’s perfectly fine, in fact, she spoke in your favor. She's a good person and only wants what's best for this case."

"I'll thank her too, Adam, I promise," she says, looking suitably embarrassed.

"I’m glad to hear that. I'll get Jodi to forward everything she has on the Moretti, McGill and Barnes cases to you. You’ll at least have all the background information in case we get summoned to court," I say. "I’ll ask Bec to set up a time for you, Jodi and I to meet to discuss trial preparations."

Approximately five hours after we left Judge Bolton's chambers, we’re back in court. Cynthia, Mrs. Wade and Joshua are present and looking tense. I had Bec call as soon as we were notified, and now Mom, Cait, Matt and Jon are sitting directly behind Jodi and me. Dad, I’ve been told, is at a job site, too far away to get here on time.

The room is packed to the rafters. I have no idea how all of these people found out about the pending verdict and how they’ve managed to make it here on time.

"Please rise…" The announcement everyone’s been waiting for finally comes, and the room comes to its feet. Once protocols are dispensed with, the foreperson hands a slip of paper to the clerk, who, in turn, gives it to Judge Bolton. He reads the contents impassively. The atmosphere, already heavy with anticipation, becomes more charged as he raises his head.

"Madam Foreperson, has the jury reached a verdict?" he asks for the benefit of the court.

"We have not, Your Honor. We remain deadlocked," she replies. The room erupts, and Judge Bolton bangs his gavel loudly as he calls for order. When quiet is restored, I request a jury poll; the result delivered is eleven findings of guilty to one not guilty. Whispers start up again, and court is once more called to order. Judge Bolton takes some moments to deliberate before delivering his ruling.

"The case against Justin John Wade is dismissed without prejudice on the grounds of a mistrial."

I automatically glance over to see Tom’s reaction. He scowls as the significance of the ruling sinks in. I, on the other hand, despite being deeply disappointed, feel a degree of relief. Jodi looks up at me with a look of pure dismay.

Judge Bolton had two choices in declaring a mistrial, to dismiss the case either with or without prejudice. Generally speaking, if a case is dismissed
with
prejudice, it indicates misconduct on the part of the prosecution and is, in effect, a sentence of not guilty. A dismissal
without
prejudice, however, means that the defendant can be retried at the prosecution’s discretion.

Jodi and I leave as soon as the room clears to join my family and Jon who are waiting just outside the entrance. I hug and thank Mom for coming. Cait embraces me tightly as she, like Mom’s just done, commiserates at the outcome. Matt claps me on the shoulder. "You did an awesome job, you deserved to win."

"What will you do?" Jon asks, knowing exactly what the ruling means.

"Counselor…" a deep voice interrupts before I can respond. We turn as one to face the newcomer.

"I hoped for a different verdict, but I wanted to tell you that you did a great job. I’m especially thankful for some of the things you got Wade to admit publicly," Samuel, Angelique’s friend, says, extending his hand.

"Thank you, I appreciate it," I say sincerely, placing my hand in his. Then, unable to help myself, I ask. "How is she?"

Dark eyes bore into mine. He’s assessing my motives, I can tell. I ignore the stares of my companions as I steadily return his gaze. "She's struggling," he finally says.

I want to ask what exactly that means but hold my tongue, only too aware of our interested audience. It seems as if he's about to say more, but his attention’s diverted by the defense team’s exit. He glares at them venomously before turning back to me. "Thanks again," he says brusquely and then follows in their wake. For a fleeting moment, I wonder whether he’s about to accost Justin, but he stops suddenly as if he’s reconsidered and veers off in another direction.

Cait places a hand on my arm, to ask about my exchange no doubt, but I turn to Matt. "It's going to be chaotic out there, why don't you get Mom and Cait out of here?" He nods, already grasping Cait’s arm as I lean in to kiss Mom goodbye.

"I'm going to have to answer questions," I tell Jodi and Jon. "I'll keep it brief, and then we'll make our way directly to the car parked out front; you can't miss it. You two get in the back, I’ll take the front seat."

It's absolute bedlam outside. There's no sign of Justin, his mother or Cynthia, but Tom, his second chair and Josh are fronting up to the media. Several of the reporters peel away as they spot us.

We descend the steps to loud calls of, ‘Adam’, ‘Counselor’ and ‘Mr. Thorne.’

"I wouldn't want your job," Jon mutters, taking a protective hold of Jodi's elbow.

"Too late for me to have second thoughts now," I reply grimly. Jodi giggles.

"Oh shut up, the pair of you. Neither of you would swap jobs; you both love what you do too much."

We’re engulfed before either of us can respond. "What do you have to say about the verdict, Adam?" the first reporter to reach us asks.

"My opinion on the verdict is of little consequence. Eleven jurors believed the defendant to be culpable and one didn’t. As you all know, criminal cases require a unanimous verdict to find someone guilty; so the verdict, although not what I would have wished for, is clear."

"Will Senator Wade be retried?" another asks.

"We’ve only just walked out of
this
trial. I think it would be reasonable to allow the DA's office a suitable timeframe to respond to that question, don't you think?"

"Surely
you'll
be making the decision, Adam?" he presses.

"And
I
work for the DA's office," is my short reply. "Two more questions," I announce firmly before glancing at Jon to indicate they should leave. He looks up, sees the vehicle and with a short nod, leads Jodi away.

"Adam, will you be making the decision or will the DA?" someone else calls out.

I keep walking. "I’ll be consulting with the District Attorney on the matter, certainly."

"Will Angelique Bain be charged?" I tamp down my annoyance and keep my face passive.

"I think I've made the Commonwealth’s position on that matter clear," I say dismissively and hurriedly make my way to the car. The driver takes off as soon as I shut my door.

I call Rita as soon as I’m settled in my office. "Come up whenever you're ready, he's expecting you," she says.

"What do you want to do, Adam?" Bristly asks once I’ve briefed him.

"He’s guilty in my view, and the evidence clearly supports our case, but I'm not sure a retrial would produce a more definitive verdict. We may well end up with the same outcome or worse."

"Sound reasoning, and I agree with you," Bristly replies, indicating that I continue.

"I'd like to hold off for a day or so to consider it," I say. "I have no doubt that his attorney will petition against a new trial, citing double jeopardy. If that fails, I think they’ll insist on the same jury. Either way, it will be costly on the public purse with no guarantee of a different result. As much as it pains me to have him get away with this, I have to weigh up the cost versus the chances of gaining a guilty verdict. I'd value your input, of course, Sir, and I also intend to discuss the matter with Jodi."

"I really don't have anything more to add, Adam, you've already articulated all the issues. I continue to be impressed with your level of thinking; and in this case, particularly, where your impartiality could so easily have been questioned, you've demonstrated professionalism and even-handedness. I couldn’t have asked more of you or any other prosecutor, for that matter. Take the time you need, I’m confident you’ll come to the right decision. Just let me know before you make any announcement."

"Thank you, Sir, I really appreciate your support, and please, I meant what I said. I
would
value your input."

"I've said all I have to on the matter," he says and then wiggles his brows to emphasize his next point. "Except to remind you that our legal system isn’t perfect, but that it’s served this country well. We need to accept the good with the bad and feel satisfied in the knowledge that, in most instances, juries get it right."

I've only been back in my office for around twenty minutes before Jodi turns up to ask how I’m coping. "I'm fine. Take a seat. I was going to call to update you on my meeting with Bristly."

"Before you say anything, I want you to know that I think you were phenomenal. It isn't your fault we didn't get a guilty verdict. You know that don't you?"

"I do, Jodi, thanks. It doesn't mean that I don't feel like I should have done more, though. One juror, we failed to reach that
one
juror!"

"Adam, you said it yourself; Justin Wade was good on the stand.
His
decision to testify made the difference."

"Not
what
he said, though; it was all charm and reputation," I can’t help commenting.

"You’re so right about that. Anyway, what have you decided to do?" she asks, and the next hour is spent going over my thinking and weighing up the pros and cons, which we basically agree on. We maintain our original view that the evidence against Justin is irrefutable. Some may doubt whether he knew about Fidelity's ownership of Liaison and the other clubs, but our belief that he did remains. Either way, there can be no doubt that he knew of the prostitution before entering into a business partnership with Joseph and that he accepted the profits from the deal, whether he drew down on them or not. They were in a bank account, in his name. There’s nothing tangible about our strategy that we’d change in a new trial, we decide.

We also agree that the best strategy for Defense, were a retrial to proceed, would be to petition for the same jury. If that happens, we accept that the chances of getting a guilty verdict could lessen.

Today’s verdict ensures that there’ll always be a cloud hanging over his head. He may well serve out his current term in office, but his opponents in a re-election campaign would, almost certainly, use the fact that eleven jurors found him guilty against him. I'd love nothing more than to haul him back into court, but I accept that, perhaps, this jury’s decision is as much justice as we’ll be afforded. Jodi and I agree to think about it and reconvene to discuss it again in the morning.

Cait calls me some time later. "Hey, you," I answer.

"Hey back. I hope you're not moping; you did so well, Adam. One of your best courtroom performances, actually."

"Thanks, Sis, and I'm not moping. I just need to come to terms with the result, that's all."

"Good, because we're going out to celebrate your victory tonight."

"Cait, it's not a victory, it was a mistrial. Do I have to explain verdicts to you again?" I groan in mock frustration.

"No, please, don’t bore me… not again…
please
," she pretends to beg.

"My freezer’s empty, and I've been living on take-out recently..." I hint.

"I'll tee it up with Mom for the weekend. Matt will be next door, checking on building works anyway. You and Dad can join him while Mom and I cook."

"Sounds good. I just have to do some work on Saturday morning, I have a lot to catch up on."

"It's good that we're going out tonight, then," she says decisively.