DEFENSE (5 page)

“It was the end of the season,” he said with an exhalation. “I’d lost Catherine at the beginning but played on. Basketball was the only thing I had left.” His eyes skirted up to mine. I could see deep sorrow within them. “But facing the end of the season felt like she’d died all over again. I was low. Lower than I’d ever been, I think. Lower even than when I’d lost her the first time. It all came crashing in that night and I was thinking of…ending it.”

“You were contemplating suicide?”

Harrison nodded painfully. “I was scared of what I might do, so I went to a bar and I found a girl. I just thought that if I had company, maybe I’d stay safe. I knew it wouldn’t be hard to pick someone up....”

I didn’t doubt it for a second. Harrison Wrexler could probably walk into a bar and click his fingers and a whole harem of women would flock to him. I thought of Jessica and her easy ability to attract men, unlike me and Nick, who were left floundering hopelessly, groping for whatever came our way that we could cling on to.

Harrison continued. “I found Shantelle and took her home. Of course, she was expecting sex. I felt obliged…”

I frowned as I regarded the man in front of me. He was far more complicated than I’d originally anticipated. Harrison Wrexler was far more than a gorgeous, rich sports star.

“I wouldn’t normally do those things,” he added. He looked up into my eyes. “I usually like it slow. Soft. Gentle. Romantic.”

I could feel the heat under my collar. My throat was growing incredibly dry. Between my legs I could feel pulsations, like echoes from when Nick had been penetrating me. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to have Harrison Wrexler make slow, precise, romantic love to me.

“But I felt obliged to give Shantelle what she wanted. Hence the binding and strangling…”

I felt like I’d been lost in a dream. I had to tear myself out of it and back into the moment.

“So you’re saying that there’s an innocent explanation for the marks that will be found on her body? That’s good. We’ll just need to find some witnesses to corroborate your story. Men who’ve had similar sexual encounters with the deceased before.”

“You mean you’re going to drag her name through the mud?” Harrison said harshly. “Make out like she’s some kind of slut who deserved it?”

“If it gets you free,” I replied, “then yes, I will.”

Just then, the sound of a key jangling in the lock made me sit back.

“Lawyers make me sick,” Harrison said with finality.

The door swung open. My heart was slamming into my chest as the two detectives came into the cell to begin their interrogation. I looked at Harrison, at the complicated, beautiful man beside me, and wondered if I’d bitten off more than I could chew.

Harrison

I lay on the hard bed, staring at the blank ceiling. Was this some kind of sick joke? To send me a lawyer with the same name as my dead wife? Katie. It’s what she’d gone by when I’d first met her; Catherine came later, at my insistence. Katie was the name of a little girl, not a powerful, sensual woman.

As I lay there, sleep eluding me, I couldn’t help but play over the events from earlier in my mind. The abrupt shift from making aggressive love to Shantelle to the absolute terror of watching her fall from my balcony, to the mind-spinning confusion of being held in a cell at the police department, and it dawning on me that I was going to be charged with murder.

Knowing that I’d be spending a night in the cells before my bail hearing was daunting. I’d never been in trouble with the law, despite what the papers tried to claim after Catherine’s drug overdose. The fact that one night in the cell may turn into twenty-five years was crushing down heavily on my chest.

And then there’d been the girl…that damn lawyer...

I’d seen the look of lust in her eyes. It wasn’t hard to notice, and the blush in her cheeks made it all the more evident. I was used to women fawning over me. But there was something different about this one, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Maybe it was her reservedness, her lack of assuredness in herself despite her complete confidence in her ability as a lawyer. I couldn’t quite place it, but the girl had gotten into my head, and that’s where she’d remained. When I should have been contemplating my future, my career, my family and finances, all I could think about was her. Even when I’d barked at her and tried to get her to back down, to get those huge, blue, mournful eyes away from me, it hadn’t worked. She was persistent. She wasn’t afraid. And I was at her complete mercy. My life was in her hands. She had all the power in the world, and I was just a pawn. As a result, I felt drawn to her in a way I hadn’t felt towards any woman since Catherine.

As I finally drifted off to sleep, I found myself looking forward to the bail hearing the next day, because then, at the very least, I’d get a chance to see Katie Scott again.

***

It was cold when I woke. The sliver of sky I could see through my barred windows was steel gray. It couldn’t have been much more than 6 a.m.; I guessed they kept to a strict, grueling, military-esque schedule in prison.

Breakfast was cold toast with butter and stringy bacon, the sort that’s more fat than meat. It was as chewy as rubber. The coffee was watery and lukewarm. I could barely keep it down.

“Used to gourmet, are we?” a man said as he
thunked
his tray down in the seat opposite me.

I knew better than to get into a conversation. Everything I said could be twisted into an altercation, not to mention that the second I revealed my accent to anyone, I’d basically be putting a target on my back.

“Hey,” the man said more forcefully, “I’m asking you a question.”

I finally looked up. The man was fairly old, his skin pocked with old acne scars. Tattoos poked out the top of his green prison top, covered with a layer of white, bristly chest hairs. He looked like a Hell’s Angel.

I made a noncommittal grunting noise, desperate to keep a low profile.

The man suddenly grinned, and waved his plastic spork in my face.

“I recognize you,” he said loudly. “You’re on the TV, aren’t you? You’re some kind of sports guy.”

I tried to hunker down in my seat. The man’s voice was attracting attention—attention I really could have done without. Others were looking around now, and it took all of five seconds for someone to work out who I was.

“No frickin’ way!” a short black guy exclaimed, leaping to his feet and gesticulating with excitement. “It’s Harrison Wrexler from the Washington Wizards!”

I stood, too, abruptly, leaving my barely eaten breakfast behind, and attempted to leave the canteen. I didn’t want to cause any trouble while I was here. It wouldn’t do my case any good. But, as a minor celebrity, my presence was starting to whip people into a frenzy.

I paced to the exit and was confronted by a group of three white men, the Hell’s Angel guy at their helm, blocking the way out. At six-foot-three, I was taller than all of them. But these guys were hardened criminals, men who’d been toughened up by years in the clink. I didn’t stand a chance.

“We got a wizard in our midst, do we?” the Hell’s Angel said.

The other two laughed.

“Yo! You leave my boy alone!” the short black guy shouted. He raced over and stood by my side in camaraderie. He couldn’t have been more than five-foot-five. “This guy here is the best point guard the Washington Wizards ever had!”

Though I appreciated the support, I really didn’t want to get into a brawl, and the little guy by my side was being antagonistic.

“I don’t care if he’s the queen of Sheba,” the Hell’s Angel said, making the others beside him laugh. “No one gets special treatment in here.” He pummeled a fist into his palm. “Not even wizards.”

The short guy was tugging on my sleeve. He looked hyped up, like he was ready to blow, like he was just itching to fight alongside his hero. Little did he know, I was no one’s hero. I was just some idiot who’d found himself in a terrible situation.

I backed away. Other than my height, the one thing I had on these guys was my speed. I’d easily be able to outrun them to the exit at the other end of the hall, but then what? If I were convicted of murder, I’d have to live alongside these ogres for the rest of my life. If I ran, how would that look? What kind of repercussions could it have? There was only one option. I had to stick up for myself.

So I took a step forward, bringing my chin up to meet the Hell’s Angel staring me down. My accomplice was more than willing to mimic me, though he only came up to the other man’s chest.

Three on two. Three aged biker men against a famous basketball player and a short-ass.

The Hell’s Angel man threw the first punch. It landed square on my jaw. I heard a cracking noise before I was knocked sideways. Black stars burst across my vision. I staggered, then righted myself before slamming my own fist into the man’s soft gut. He doubled over with a groan.

All at once, punches and kicks began raining down. The whole canteen erupted into chaos, some people racing to join in, others standing on the sidelines, hyped up by the violence. An alarm started blaring, and guards rushed over, grabbing people, whacking others with truncheons.

I found myself on the floor, huddled in a fetal position. I covered my head with my arms, desperate to protect my brain. Pain exploded from every part of my body.

I couldn’t do this…I couldn’t live my life like this.

Prison would kill me.

“Katie…” I whispered under my breath. “Please save me.”

Katie

After Harrison’s interrogation, I went home. I knew I was going to have to work all weekend, what with the bail hearing set for Saturday afternoon, and I desperately wanted to catch some sleep before then to make sure I was at my best. I also didn’t want to look like a horrendous wretch the next time I met up with Harrison. I knew it was shallow, but I wanted him to see me at my best, not hungover and frazzled like I had been earlier.

My house was silent and dark when I returned. It was only once I flopped into my bed that I remembered Jessica. I’d been a terrible friend, leaving her like that, but what else was I supposed to do? She didn’t want to speak to the police, and she seemed pretty pissed at me for having suggested it. Plus, Tim had been in. It wasn’t like I’d left her alone. I’d just put my job first.

My job and my desire
.

I pulled my covers up to my chin and thought about Harrison Wrexler. The interrogation had gone well; he’d refused to answer certain questions and hadn’t said anything to incriminate himself further. If we could get him bailed we’d be able to speak more freely and thoroughly, and look through all the evidence against him before building our case. The thought of spending more time with him set my body on fire with excitement.

I knew I was playing a dangerous game. Lusting after a client wasn’t a crime—even sleeping with one wasn’t completely forbidden in DC, though it was certainly frowned upon—but it definitely had the potential to cloud my professional judgement. I needed to think with my head, not my clit. But as I drifted off to sleep, all I could think about was Harrison’s gorgeous face, his smoldering expressions, his deep, mournful gaze, and the dark secrets he was going to share with me.

***

It was midday by the time I resurfaced. I showered and chose my sexiest work dress—a dark crimson fitted dress with black paneling to accentuate my waist. I had a meeting scheduled with Galiema at the office, and then the two of us were heading to bond court for Harrison’s bail hearing.

I found Tim in the kitchen drinking coffee.

“You’re up late,” he said.

I poured myself a cup.

“I was working all night,” I said, taking a sip. “Where’s Jessica?”

“You mean your best friend who you left in the lurch?” Tim said gruffly. “You haven’t even bothered to say hi to her?”

I sighed into my coffee cup. “You’re pissed at me.”

“Damn right I’m pissed at you, Katie. There’s going off to work, and then there’s staying in bed all morning while your friend cries her eyes out. What the fuck has gotten into you?”

“She’s been crying?”

“Of course she’s been crying!”

I slammed my cup onto the tabletop. “Jesus, Tim. What am I supposed to do? I have a job that’s taking up my time and energy. Jessica didn’t want my help. You heard her!”

“She didn’t want you to be a lawyer; she needed you to be a friend.”

“Well, maybe I’m just a shit friend,” I snapped back.

I whirled out of the kitchen and scooped up my briefcase.

“You’re leaving?” Tim demanded, following me out the kitchen.

“Yes. I’m leaving. I have an important job, unlike some people I know.”

I knew it was below the belt, but at that point I didn’t care. Neither Tim, an unemployed artist, nor Jessica, with her bar job, knew anything about responsibility. If they didn’t turn up to work one day, an innocent man wouldn’t end up in prison. They had no idea the sort of pressure I was under.

I pulled on my heels and swirled out the door, cutting off Tim’s tirade of anger. I rushed down the corridor. I couldn’t cope with any crap at the moment. I needed to focus on Harrison. Right now, he was my priority. Getting him out of jail and keeping him out was way more important than my friends’ petty dramas.

***

When I got to the office, I went straight to Galiema’s office. She was on the phone, looking as poised and elegant as usual. As I waited, I noticed that the door to John Newland’s office was closed, a sure fire sign that he was in a meeting with a client. I was surprised to see him at work on a Saturday. From the brief moments I’d spent with John, it had become evident that his workaholic days were far behind him. The general vibe in the office was that he was cruising towards retirement, and that meant an opening at the top. I hadn’t given the idea much thought. There were people who’d been at Newland & Rook for close to a decade. Still, Rook & Scott had a nice ring to it….

“Katie,” Galiema said, putting down the phone and gesturing to the empty chair on the opposite side of the desk.

I took a seat, enveloped by the luxury leather.

“You look very nice. Did you manage to get some sleep?”

“Yes, thankfully,” I said. “It was a long night.”

“Indeed.”

I could tell she was willing me to challenge her on her no-show. Galiema respected people who confronted her. In her eyes, business was business. I wondered if I’d ever be as good at cutting off my own emotions.

“I was expecting you to be at the station,” I said, taking the bait. “It’s my first high-profile, and I could have done with the support.”

A thin smile spread across Galiema’s lips. “If you’d checked into the office after your meeting with our client, you would have known why I wasn’t there.”

Typical. She was going to twist it around against me. Despite having my Friday night cut short and spending my Saturday morning alone in the police office, she was going to insinuate that I hadn’t worked as hard as I should have, that I ought to have come here afterwards to meet her instead of crawling into bed like a zombie.

“I didn’t realize there was work going on behind the scenes,” I said. “You didn’t answer your phone, so I just assumed you’d gone home.”

Galiema spat out a laugh.

“Well?” I said. “What was going on here?”

Galiema folded one of her elegant arms over the other. “I was sorting out the media. Getting injunctions in place. Making sure no paps or reports followed you out the station and that no one would turn up at the bail hearing. I was liasing with Mr Wrexler’s manager and pulling some strings to make sure the bail hearing happened immediately, so our client wasn’t left languishing in prison too long.”

“What are the chances of us getting him bail?” I said. “I mean, he’s been charged with murder. I can count on my fingers the number of perps who’ve gotten bail for a murder charge.”

“They all have one thing in common, Katie,” Galiema replied with a smile. “Tons of money.”

I folded my arms. “So we’re paying off the judge?”

“If that’s how you want to look at it,” Galiema replied with a smirk. “Money talks, Katie,” she added when she noted my expression. “The manager of the Washington Wizards wants this case cleaned up as soon as possible. He’s willing to pay anything, pretty much, including a million-dollar bail.”

“Great,” I said dryly. “I’m glad to hear we’re profiting from all this.”

“Now,” Galiema said, clearing her throat. “We should be getting the autopsy report by the end of the day.”

“That soon?”

Galiema rubbed two fingers together. “Money, Katie. We need to know what we’re up against. If there’s any signs that might suggest rape, we’ll need to know before court.”

“There might be,” I said, pulling out my file. “Harrison said they had rough sex. A bit of bondage. A bit of asphyxiation. It might look bad for him.”

Galiema rolled her eyes. “They’re all the same, aren’t they? These rich young men?”

I frowned in spite of myself. “Harrison did those things because Shantelle asked him to. That’s her sexual preference, not his.”

Galiema tipped her eyes over her glasses. “Do you really believe that?”

“Yes,” I replied confidently.

“Handy,” Galiema said. “It’s always easier to defend these monsters when you think they’re innocent.”

“Harrison
is
innocent.”

“Oh please,” Galiema said. “He’s a rich, entitled little boy who snorts cocaine off of prostitutes, treats women like sex dolls, then throws them off the balcony when he’s bored with them.”

“That’s not what happened,” I said, slamming my fist onto the table. “Those drugs claims were unsubstantiated, just vile things the media said after the death of his wife. And he has no history with prostitutes at all. In fact, he had intimacy issues after his wife’s death, and Shantelle was the first woman he’d been with.”

Galiema listened to my tirade impassively. “Very good,” she said. “I can really hear the passion in your voice. The jury will like that. But let’s try to keep this out of court. Despite what
you
might think about golden boy, our victim was a prostitute. So arguing he didn’t use women wouldn’t be a good idea.”

My face blanched. Harrison hadn’t said he’d paid Shantelle to sleep with him. That certainly made things look worse. A man driven to despair and impotence by the death of his wife, and lacking stability after the end of the season goes out, finds a prostitute, rapes her, then chucks her off the balcony. He should have told me. It would be way harder to spin this now.

I also didn’t want to believe that about Harrison. Maybe everything he’d told me at the police station was bullshit. Maybe he was like the person Galiema had read about in the papers after all. I thought he’d understood the futility of lying to his lawyer. If he wasn’t going to be honest with me, we would get crucified in court.

“We’d better head to bond court,” Galiema said, snapping me from my thoughts.

We stood and went to the door of her office. Just as we exited, John Newland’s door opened and he strode out purposefully. We stopped in the hallway.

“Katie,” John said with a nod. “I hear you’re on the Wrexler case. Think you can handle it?”

“Definitely,” I said. “And you’re on a case, too, I see.”

John took a step forward and closed the door. “It’s my nephew. He’s in a spot of trouble with the law. Maybe if you do a good job with Wrexler you could take over the case. There are…similarities.”

I cringed, wondering if he was insinuating that his nephew had been charged with murdering a woman. I didn’t want to get myself a reputation for defending brutal misogynists. I’d come to Newland & Rook hoping to get on one of their big pharmaceutical cases, in which parents were suing a major drug company for the deaths of their children after being prescribed poorly tested medication. I’d chosen to become a defense lawyer to support the good guys against the major corporations, not the rich against the impoverished.

“I think Katie will have her hands full for the time being,” Galiema said, patting my shoulder. “Perhaps one of the eager first years would want to get onboard with your rape case.”

John chuckled and retreated into his office. As his door swung open, I got a glimpse inside at his nephew. To my horror, I recognized who it was. Seb, the guy who’d raped Jessica.

I couldn’t believe it. A feeling like ice prickled up my spine before the door closed in my face, blocking him out.

“Galiema,” I stammered, “that guy…he’s a rapist. We can’t represent him.”

Galiema gave me a look. “Everyone’s entitled to a defense.”

“But…” I started to protest. Before I got a chance to finish my statement, Galiema had taken me by the arm and led me away.

***

I tried calling Jessica from the taxi three times, but she didn’t answer. In the end I texted her, telling her that she needed to come forward and speak to the police about Seb ASAP. I explained there’d been another victim and that her testimony would have more credence with corroboration from another person. I knew it wasn’t what she wanted to hear from me, but I couldn’t bear the thought of that creep getting off scot-free for his crimes because his uncle happened to be one of the most prestigious lawyers in DC.

As the taxi pulled up outside bond court, I realized that I’d have to put everything going on with Jessica out of my mind. Now it was time to focus on Harrison. I had to do my best for him. Not just because in my heart I was certain he deserved bail, but for the thrilling fact that once he was out of prison, we’d be spending a lot more time together.