Deception (4 page)

"Shut up," I say flippantly.

We spend the rest of the afternoon sipping drinks, enjoying music, swapping stories, and laughing. It looks like the sun is about to set so I look at the clock, it's five-forty-five. I’m shocked that we spent the entire day here and it feels like we’ve just arrived. Deciding that we should head back home, Laura heads to the restroom before we leave. She comes back, gushing. "They have the sweetest thing. There’s a 'Soul Mates' wall by the bathrooms. It’s plastered with photos of couples," she says, melting into the floor.

I scrunch up my face. "Puke." 

They laugh, knowinghow much I don't believe in soul mate
s—
and certainly not now, more than ever.

• • • •

"Do you think he's there?" Tracy asks.

"I don't know, but I want to drive by to see."

On my way home, I decide to pass by Rich's firm to see if his car is there, not really anticipating him to be at this time. Pulling into the parking lot behind the building, I sigh with relief. The lot is empty.

"Well, he's not here. He must be at home." The moment I say the last word, my relief turns into panic. I don't think I can be in the same house with him right now, having read those texts this morning. I’m not confident that I can hold myself together and not confront him.

"Don't say anything, Amy," Tracy warns, knowing exactly what I'm thinking. "We will figure this out. You need more to go on than a smashed up TracFone at this point." I gaze at her with a look of defeat.

We arrive at my house, and much to my surprise there are only two cars in the driveway. Neither of them is Rich's SUV―only my Cadillac and Tracy's BMW. "Where the hell is he?" Tracy questions, mirroring my shock.

"I have no idea."

We sit there staring at each other. "Do you want to drive around and see if we can spot him?"

"I don't even know where to look. San Fran is quite big."

"Dammit, Amy. It is past seven o’clock on a Sunday night. Where the heck could he be at this time?"

"He might be with Daniel or another of his friends," I say, shrugging. Shaking her head, she doesn't say anything, but also doesn't look convinced. "I'm not calling him. I'm not interested in listening to any of his lies. I really need to get inside and shower, and then get focused for court in the morning."

"Text or call me when he gets home."

"All right."

Walking in the house, I note that it looks exactly as I left it this morning. I don't think he's been home all day. I bustle upstairs, and plop down on the bed, feeling exhausted.

Feeling a chill, I turn over to my side and notice that I'm lying on top of the covers. Glancing over at the clock, I realize that I fell asleep―in my beach clothes―and have been sleeping for well over three hours. Noticing that Rich's side of the bed is empty, I get up. Approaching the bedroom door, I can hear the television downstairs and see the lights on. I grab my pajamas from my dresser and head into the bathroom. After turning on the shower, I get in.

When I come back out of the bathroom, the television is still on downstairs. Too tired to be interested in seeing what he's doing, I decide to head straight back to bed.

• • • •

When I awake, Rich isn’t in bed. I get up and stroll downstairs for a cup of coffee. I notice that his SUV is not in the driveway so he must’ve already left for the day.

While drinking my coffee, I review Laura's closing arguments. Feeling confident that it’ll be an easy morning in court, I get dressed, pack my bag, and grab my cell phone. I drive off to meet up with Laura at the firm, deciding to use my Cadillac today.

Chapter Four

Monday

April 15, 2013

10:11 a.m.

Forcefully pushing through the courtroom doors, I storm into the hallway. Making my way through the sea of reporters, I shield my face with my arm while waves of cameras flash. I bolt to the doors of the courthouse and rush outside, not looking anywhere but in the direction of the car that is waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs.

The driver opens the door for me, but before he can close it, I grab hold of it and slam it shut, hard. Laura must have been right behind me because she slides into the seat on the other side.

With both fists, I punch the seat in front of me. "What the hell happened in there? This can't be fucking happening right now. My career is ruined. I'm now the laughing stock of San Fran. Shit! Dammit! I lost my first case, and all because of a sadistic monster." Laura sits in silence. Feeling sick, I bend forward, wrapping my arms around my waist.

"I'm sorry, Amy. I had no idea that he was insane. He never once let up that he could be the monster behind it all. This wasn’t your loss. I was lead council on this case, and it’s my fault this happened. It’s my loss," she says, in a barely audible tone. I swallow hard, trying to find my equanimity. My head spins and my insides shake.

The driver starts the car and drives off while reporters pound on the windows and stand in our path, yelling out questions. "How does it feel to defend Satan?" one reporter shouts in the massive sea of words.

I peep at Laura who's sitting still, with her head resting back. "How could this have happened? I reviewed this case from top to bottom, countless times. I met with him, like you did. There is no way we could have predicted he would have said what he did in there. It's not your fault. I also thought we had this one in the bag. This was a simple, open and shut, case in my book. No one saw this coming."

"Dammit," she mutters through clenched teeth.

The Prosecution was presenting their closing arguments to the jury when our client, Gordon, jumps up from his seat. "I'm guilty! I killed that bitch, and I'd do it again too," he proclaims, vividly. Gasps are heard from the entire courtroom. Four police officers rush to him. "God came to me last night. He told me that if I don't confess, I’ll be nailed to the cross and sent to the depths of hell for eternity. That bitch deserved to be cleansed. She was impure, she was vile, and she was rotting from the inside. I did it. I killed her before she could infect anyone else," he shouts, amidst all the disorder. He puts his hands together like he’s praying, and looks up at the ceiling. "I did it, Lord. I did what I needed to do. I did it for you." The police escort him out of the courtroom. Every single person in the room sits in silence. We are all in disbelie
f—
in complete, and utter, shock.

The person that Gordon confessed to killing―to cleansing― was his sister. She was a well-known hooker and drug addict. He convinced us that he was trying to help her get clean and off the streets. She was found in a rundown motel with her feet and hands strapped to the bed, and it looked like she had choked on her own vomit. Finger prints retrieved at the scene came back with a match for Gordon, which is when he was taken into custody and hired us. He claimed that she called him that evening because she said she was afraid. She felt someone was following her. We even spoke with family members who backed his story, saying that Gordon was always the one Beth would call when she was in need or in trouble. He seemed like a sane, and caring, brother.

"We should’ve taken the insanity plea when they offered it to us."

"I suppose, in hindsight."

"It's possible for some people to snap."

Apparently the news spread like wildfire, because everyone at the firm appears to know what happened. Everyone scatters to their desks and offices when we arrive, except for my assistant, Julie, who comes running to me.

"I’m sorry, Amy," she says, hugging me.

Laura makes a bee-line to her office, and I to mine. Slumping down in my chair, I stare out the window into the city. "Sorry I let you down, dad. I gave your life's work a bad name. I'm not as smart as you thought I was."

"Amy?" Julie utters, standing at the door. I twist my chair to face her. "I hate to bother you, but I wanted to tell you that Mrs. Collins called to reschedule her three o’clock appointment."

"All right."

"Rich also called here twice. He said you aren't answering your phone, or responding to your text messages. I told him you were in court this morning. He asked me to have you call him when you got back."

I roll my eyes. "Thank you, Julie."

Rich is the last person I want to think about right now, and that saddens me. He’s the one person I should be able to lean on the most, but he doesn’t seem very trustworthy at the moment. I'm feeling alone, regardless of the amount of friends, colleagues, and family I have.

Busying myself the rest of the afternoon, no one dares to come to me all day, not even Laura. At the end of the day, Julie saunters in, handing me my schedule for tomorrow. "I had to move a few meetings around. We got a call from a gentleman regarding the possible homicide out in Half Moon on Friday."

"What homicide is that?"

"You didn't hear about it? It’s the one where a husband and wife were stabbed to death in their home. It was on the news all weekend."

"No. I didn't have the television on this weekend. Who wants to meet with me?"

"It's one of the couple's sons. He said that his brother was taken into custody, and now he's being questioned as well. He was adamant about speaking to you. I offered for him to speak with Doug, since his schedule is open tomorrow, but he said he wanted to speak with you directly. I moved your one o’clock meeting with the Littletons to next Monday, after you get back from your cruise. I hope that’s okay."

"That's fine. I'm certain no one will want to speak with me after today's court frenzy is all over the news anyway."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. Sometimes people are so good at lying, that they begin to believe their own story. That had to be why he was so convincing. You're a top-notch lawyer, Amy. Don't fool yourself into believing otherwise."

"Thank you, Julie."

I sit dumbfounded for the next couple of hours, while watching the attorneys and employees leave for the day. Not having seen Laura since this morning, I go to her office, but find it empty.

Returning, I decide that I better call Rich before he sends out the search dogs. Realizing that the phone battery is dead, I plug it into the wall to let it power up. Three voicemails await me. Not feeling much like listening to them, I press one and wait for Rich answer. His voicemail picks up, which sends a wave of relief through me. I leave a message: "Hey Rich, sorry I haven't called you today. Court was crazy this morning, as I'm sure you've already heard. And my phone was dead. I should be home soon."

Resting my elbows on the desk, I cradle the heavy weight of my head in my hands, feeling defeated, exhausted, and angry about today…and my life.

• • • •

Arriving home, I round the corner of the driveway to find Rich’s SVU parked behind my new car. When I enter the front door, I hear muffled voices. Approaching the kitchen, I see Rich on the patio, talking on the phone. While grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator, he turns and smiles in acknowledgement, but continues to talk.

I take my water and go upstairs to change out of my suit. After kicking off my heels, I go to my dresser to grab a tank top. I’m taken aback when I see the battery of the TracFone sitting on top of the dresser. My heart stops beating and I begin to feel faint.
What is it doing on my dresser?
He must have found it on the floor and put it there for me see. Not knowing what to do, I remove my suit and blouse, and then quickly put my shirt and shorts on. I stand there, panicked and unable to move.
What do I do with the battery? Does he want me to confront him with it?

I take a calming breath and hang my clothes up. Walking out of the bedroom, I pause, staring at the phone. If he didn't have the balls to confront me with it, then I won't either. I decide to leave it there. One of us will be forced to say something later, but I’m not in the mood for it right now. After turning off the light, I amble downstairs. Rich is sitting on the lounge chair by the pool, pressing keys on his phone. I pour myself a glass of wine and stand in the doorway. He looks up at me.

"Hi."

"Hi. Have you been home a while?"

"Not too long. I picked us up some dinner. I need to get this email out, and then I'll be in."

Walking back into the kitchen, I notice that he brought home dinner from Alexander’
s—
my favorite place in San Fran. He has to know about the phone. We never eat at, or order from, Alexander’s unless it's a special occasion, and today certainly isn't anything exceptional. Frantic and unsure of what to do, I open the bag and take the food containers out, laying them on the counter with trembling hands. Opening up the cupboard to grab plates and silverware to set the table, I remember putting the last of the plates in the dishwasher this morning. I bend down and open it, only to find it's empty. A smile creeps on my face. Today is Monday, so our housekeeper, Maria, was here. I bet she was the one that found the battery when she was sweeping the floor. Rich is still dressed in his suit, which likely means he hasn't even been upstairs yet.

I bustle upstairs and grab the battery from the dresser. Running across the bedroom, while practically tripping over my own feet, I shove it under the clothes with the other pieces of the phone. I make my way back downstairs to find Rich setting the table.

"Sorry to hear about your incident in court this morning. I know that there isn't much that I can do to cheer you up, but I hope this food can help turn your day around."

"Thanks. But yeah, I'd like to forget about this morning. I have a feeling it’ll end up having many ramifications on my career. Thank you for dinner though. It's a sweet gesture."

We eat, while having our normal chatter of what the latest and greatest is at work, when out of the blue Rich asks, "Have you spoken to your mom?"

I look up, a bit taken aback by his question, since it seems unrelated to what we were talking about. "No, I haven't talked to her since Friday. I meant to call her back yesterday, but I never got a chance to. I didn't get to it today either."

"I stopped by her house today to get a copy of the itinerary for Thursday. I've also arranged to have a car pick us up that morning, to take us to the port.”

"You’re sure that you’re able to come?"

"Yes. I moved a few appointments around to make it happen. I do think that I'll have to go to England shortly after we return though."

"Really? So you’re going to accept what they’re proposing?"

"I don't have much of a choice. They’re being pretty adamant about it. My hands are tied."

"What is it that they’re propositioning?" I ask, putting my fork down on the plate. Looking up at him, I brace myself for the answer.

He slowly cuts a piece of steak, and then takes a bite. "They’re building a new campus at one of their colleges," he responds, without looking me.

"Oh," I say, surprised by his reply. I was anticipating something else, recalling the―albeit one-sided―conversation that I overheard on Saturday. "That's not so bad."

"Yeah, I suppose."

We finish our dinner, and he announces that he has work to finish up, so he heads into the office, shutting the door behind him. I decide to put on my swimsuit and do a few laps in the pool.

When I'm done my swim, I take a shower. Rich is still in the office with the door closed so I decide to retire to the bedroom with a glass of wine and a book. I don't recall turning off the bedside light, but when I awake the bedroom is dark. Tugging the covers over me, I drift off to sleep.

• • • •

The morning sun peaks through the shades. I stretch out on my back and take in a long breath. Please let today be better than yesterday. I decide to put on my new black Valentino sleeveless, couture dress, and then slip into my red Jimmy Choo gold studded stilettos. Today's a new day, and I'm going take it on in style.