ESCANTA: A James Thomas Novel (The James Thomas Series Book 1) (22 page)

“Ladies and gentlemen, I understand you have reached a verdict on all three counts.”

“We have, Your Honor.”

“In the case of Jodi Nelson, on the charge of murder in the first degree, how do you find?”

“We find the defendant guilty.”

Mak’s heart fluttered with a whisper of relief.
One down.

“In the case of Ashleigh Brown, on the charge of murder in the first degree, how do you find?”

“We find the defendant guilty.”

Two down.

“In the case of Kate Loren, on the charge of murder in the first degree, how do you find?”

“We find the defendant not guilty.”

Two out of three
—it wasn’t good enough.

Mak looked down at the desk, knowing she now had to face the families. Two would be pleased, one would be disappointed.

She picked up her satchel and then walked to the benches where they were sitting.

She greeted Jodie’s parents first, and then Ashleigh’s. And then she moved to Kate’s parents.

Kate’s mother looked at her through glistening eyes and Mak’s heart wrenched.

“I’m sorry,” Mak said.

Kate’s mother shook her head. “Don’t apologize to us. No one could’ve done better, Makaela,” she said. Mak had told her many times to call her Mak, but she said she preferred Makaela because it sounded sweeter—which was the exact reason Mak didn’t like it. “That man is going to prison, regardless of Kate’s verdict, and that’s enough for us. She would be happy with that. Thank you for fighting for her, and for the other women.”

Mak squeezed her hands. “Thank you,” she said.

“How long will he go away for?” Kate’s father asked.

“I don’t know; that will be determined by the judge. At the minimum he will serve two life sentences of twenty to twenty-five years. Given his age, that means he will spend every remaining hour of his life in prison.”

“That’s all we ever wanted,” he said as a tear ran down his cheek. “If he’s in prison, he can’t hurt anyone else—that’s the most important thing.”

Mak simply nodded her head.

Mak wanted to fight it, to appeal the verdict, but if Kate’s family didn’t want to go down that road, she wouldn’t. She would do what was best for the family because that was her obligation—not her own career satisfaction.

Mak said goodbye, spotting Cami who was waiting for her.

“Congratulations,” she said, sporting a huge grin and sparkling eyes.

“Thanks,” Mak said, mustering the smile she knew was appropriate but didn’t feel in that moment.
Two out of three.

Cami gave her an analyzing look, softly shaking her head, and said, “You’re a hard woman to please. You should be happy.”

“Can we go? I’d like to get through the media and back to my office,” Mak said. She wanted to be alone.

As they walked, Mak noticed Cami seemed to be particularly close today. “What’s up? You’re invading my personal space.”

Cami chuckled. “I’ve got strict instructions to be extra diligent today. James increased your security again last night, which seems a little over cautious, but he’s been in a rather good mood these past few days—which is interesting—so I’m just keeping my mouth shut and following orders.”

She knows
, Mak figured by the way Cami looked at her. But how did she know?

A reporter stepped out in front of Mak as they exited the courthouse.

“Mrs. Ashwood, what about Kate Loren’s verdict? Will you keep fighting for her?”

“That’s yet to be determined,” Mak said politely but firmly as she continued to walk. The reporters were yelling questions so loudly that Mak had trouble hearing the actual questions. She answered a few more and then Cami covertly escorted her down to the car.

“Jesus,” Mak said, exhaling as the car doors closed and they drove off. “That was insane.”

“Did you hear that reporter?” Cami said, laughing. “He said they’re calling you the angel with horns.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mak said.

“I don’t know, I think it’s quite appropriate. You look like an angel but you sure don’t act like one.” Cami looked behind them and Mak copied her, kneeling on the seat to look out the rear window.

Cami quickly put a hand on her shoulder, pushing her down. “Don’t do that, you might get shot.”

“So might you,” Mak rebutted.

“Copy,” Cami said. And then looked at Mak, “See, you just got me in trouble. James said to keep your head down.”

Mak sighed, sliding down against the leather chair.

Two out of three. Damn.

Mak tried to push the disappointment aside, the feeling that she let Kate’s family down, but she couldn’t and she knew it would take her some time to let this trial go. She’d known the risks, and she’d known Kate’s case in particular was going to be tough, and this was just part of the job. In theory, in her head, she knew she should be ecstatic. Two guilty verdicts! But her heart had yet to catch up with her mind.

They pulled up into a foreign parking lot and Mak looked around. Where were they?

Cami grabbed her bag and basically hauled her out and into the car that had pulled up beside them. Mak was in the back seat and the car was moving before she realized she’d changed cars.

“What the hell?” Mak said.

“Just a precaution.”

Mak knew it was James’ voice before she realized he was in the front passenger seat. She looked at the driver: Deacon. And Cami sat next to her.

“Well done, Mak, well done,” Deacon said once they were back on the road.

“Yeah,” Mak said noncommittally.

James turned in his seat, sticking his head between the headrest and the door. Only she could see his face. “Congratulations, Mak,” he said. It wasn’t his words but the intensity of his eyes. She could see there was so much more he wanted to say, and she also knew that he knew what she was thinking.
I wasn’t good enough.

“Do you wish you could go for the death penalty for this bastard?” Deacon asked.

“I don’t believe in the death penalty. I don’t believe we get to make that decision…to decide who lives or dies,” Mak said, crossing her legs.

“So who does get to decide?” Deacon said.

“Whichever God you believe in, I suppose,” Mak said. “But I will push for two life sentences. He should never have the privilege of being a free man ever again.”

“Mm,” Deacon said.

“But he decided to take the lives of three women, and I’m sure many more, so why not just kill him?” James asked casually. “God didn’t decide the fate of those women, he did, so why should God get a say in when he dies?” It wasn’t a debate, but rather a question out of interest.

“But if we kill him, aren’t we just as bad?” Mak responded.

“No. He deserves to die, they didn’t—that’s the difference,” James said.

“I don’t think it’s our decision to make,” Mak said again. “And in fact I’ve never agreed with it. There is no evidence to confirm the death penalty deters criminals from committing crimes that carry the punishment, plus it’s expensive to keep an inmate on death row, innocent men and women are unfortunately convicted all too often, and morally I don’t agree with the government taking a life.”

“Fair enough,” James said, and then all was quiet again and Deacon looked sideways at his brother. Mak wondered what that look was for but she knew if she asked she’d be given an evasive answer.

Back in her office, Mak sat quietly contemplating the case, and then last night with James. And then their conversation in the car. Some of their views, particularly those attaining to the law, were very different. But even on those, they seemed to be able to respectfully disagree.

Mak looked at the ring on her right finger, the wedding band she had still felt obligated to wear, although she rarely thought of him. But something had shifted in her, and she no longer wanted to wear it.
I made a mistake
, Mak thought, allowing herself to finally admit the truth. It was young love, and they should never have gotten married. She took one last look at it, and then slipped it off her finger and put it in her desk drawer. That chapter of her life was closed.

Mak picked up her mobile and looked through the tens of congratulatory messages coming in. She paused on Maya’s, mostly because she liked the first word:
Drinks??

Yes,
Mak thought
, that’s exactly what I need.

She called Maya.

“My superstar sister!” Maya said, greeting her. “So, how pissed off are you about the third verdict?”

Maya knew her better than anyone.

“Not happy,” Mak responded.

“I figured as much. You are way too hard on yourself. I’m proud of you, and Mom and Dad are already toasting to their mega successful daughter. You should enjoy this, Mak, enjoy the moment.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mak said. She knew what she should do, she just didn’t know how to do it.

“So, are we going out for a drink?” Maya asked.

“Please. Some of the team here are going to that bar on the corner, Siglo. I said I would join them so why don’t you meet me there at seven?”

“Sounds good.”

“Great, I’ll see you soon,” Mak said, hanging up the phone.

The bar was busy, and it was easy to be a nameless face in the crowd. James, Deacon and Tom sat together on a couch no more than fifteen feet from Mak, drinking their sodas.

James knew she was upset about the verdict, which was unreasonable, yet he got it. She had very high expectations for herself, which was both a blessing and a curse. It was what drove her to be successful, but then she was never satisfied.

He watched her covertly, his eyes seemingly never leaving her, but nor did they linger. His body yearned for her, and it had since he’d said goodbye to her last night—it was no doubt a result of the unreleased desire.

Maya ordered another round of drinks and James mulled over his next move. Now that her trial was over, he wanted to talk to her. He wondered if he should wait, given how disappointed she seemed with the verdict. But that wasn’t a feeling that was going to go away overnight—it would take considerable time. And he wanted Mak to hear his security requirements because if she didn’t like them, which he expected, it was better to end this sooner rather than later.

“I’m going to do a sweep,” James said, standing up with his drink. The men nodded their heads, unfazed—it wasn’t out of protocol.

When he was out of Deacon’s sight, he typed a text message to Mak:

If you want to talk tonight, perhaps don’t have another drink. We can’t discuss anything if you’re not sober.

James sent the message and then continued his sweep.

Mak had been on her phone all night, replying to messages and phone calls, so Deacon would think nothing of it that she checked her phone again. Deacon was a problem he was going to have to deal with soon, if they did decide to take things further.

James saw nothing alarming as he walked through the bar. He checked his phone but there was no response from Mak. He went back to the couch.

Over the next thirty minutes he watched the glass in front of her—she didn’t take a mouthful, but she also hadn’t replied to his message. Mak didn’t like being told what to do—which is why he’d worded the message the way he had—but even still, she had to be defiant. If they did go down this path, they were going to butt heads constantly. James just hoped the make-up sex was going to be good.

“Exit.”
James heard Cami’s voice through his earwig.

Finally
, James thought.

Deacon got up and went to get the car while James and his men prepared to escort Mak out. Mak said her goodbyes, and then Cami gave the code to move.

They formed two unified lines as Mak walked down the middle and into the car. He climbed into the passenger seat, while the other men loaded into the cars in front and behind them. James wasn’t taking any chances tonight.

They detoured several times until they reached Thomas Security. Cami took Mak upstairs, while James and Deacon went to Samuel’s office. There was thankfully nothing to debrief, so it was a quick catch-up. Deacon was heading out again tonight, to cover security for another client, which was perfectly convenient. As was the fact that he’d gone to bed early last night with a headache.

James excused himself and made his way to Mak’s apartment.

He let himself in, and she smiled as she looked up from her phone.

He found himself excited, even a little nervous.

“Thank you for the message…much appreciated,” Mak said, tilting her head to the side. James would’ve thought she was mad except for the smile on her lips.

“You didn’t respond,” James said, feigning insult.

He cupped her small face in his hands, eager to taste her lips. His body felt heavy with arousal and anticipation.

She tilted her chin up and their lips brushed. He closed his eyes, enjoying the kiss, memorizing it because he wasn’t sure how many more he would get.

“How are you feeling?” James asked.

She ran her fingers through her long hair. “Fine. Are we going to talk now that my trial is over?”

“If you’re up for it. I really enjoy spending time with you, but there’s not much point if you don’t think you’ll be able to live with the type of security I would want to put in place. And that’s okay, I would understand that. But the sooner you hear it, the better, I think.”

Mak nodded her head thoughtfully.

“Come upstairs,” he said, taking her hand.

They took the stairs, as usual, because it was faster than waiting for the elevator, and he sat her at the kitchen island.

“You haven’t eaten since yesterday—smoothies don’t count—so I’ll cook something quick and—”

“You can cook?”

“I’m no master chef, but yes I can cook,” James said. “Cooking is a survival skill.”

Mak barked out a laugh. “In this century? Okay, Indiana Jones.”

“Okay, smart-ass,” James said, leaning on the island bench-top so they were eye level. “Here’s a test. You’re in Boston, and someone is following you. You manage to get away from them, and find a vacant apartment to hide in for a few days, but you need to eat. You can’t use a credit card because they might track it, so what are you going to do?”