Indiscretions (26 page)

“No deals! We agreed. I didn't do it, Khen, and I'm not going to cop a plea. If I can't get a full acquittal then—”

“All right.” She placed her hands on his shoulders, wanting instead to hold him in her arms, but she knew that she couldn't. Then a frightening thought gripped her, and he seemed to read her thoughts as his eyes bored into hers.

This may very well be our last night together.
Her heart pounded in her chest, and her blood seemed to boil, as he lowered his head and brushed her lips with a feather-soft kiss.

“No matter what you think,” he said huskily, “I've always loved you.” He turned and strode away, his long legs carrying him swiftly across the pavement, and her heart went with him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

She waited the appropriate amount of time after the assistant district attorney's summation before she rose from her seat.

She stood before the jury, her eyes and her voice full of conviction. She knew that everything hinged on what she was able to make the jury feel. She smoothed the lapels of her dark green wool blazer.

“Ladies and gentlemen, in order for you to find my client guilty, the evidence must show beyond a reasonable doubt that my client murdered Carol Gordon-Michaels. You were presented with the facts of this case. You were given evidence that has been negated. You have an eyewitness who cannot positively identify my client as the man he saw. You heard my client testify, under oath, that Gordon-Michaels was alive and breathing when he left her. His only crime, ladies and gentlemen, is being at the wrong place at the wrong time. You cannot, in good conscience convict a man for that.

“The state has yet to prove that blackmail was the motive for this crime. My client is innocent until proven guilty. It was the state's responsibility to prove guilt, and they failed. Can you, in good conscience, deny the possibility that someone else entered the victim's apartment and murdered her after my client left? It has been documented that the victim was a drug abuser. There was plenty of evidence to attest to that. Isn't it possible then that her supplier is the culprit?

“When you go into deliberation, ladies and gentlemen, think. Think that the wrong verdict could put an innocent man in prison and the real murderer will still be among us. Thank you.”

She gave the jury one last look and returned to her seat.

Judge Abramson instructed the jury on the laws and what their responsibilities were, then sent them into deliberation.

Exiting the courtroom, Khendra and Sean were bombarded by reporters and cameramen. The eager news hounds pushed microphones into Khendra's face, demanding her attention.

“Please, Ms. Phillips, what do you think your chances are for an acquittal?”

“I believe we have presented a solid case, and now we have to let the jury do its job.”

“If your client is convicted, will you appeal?”

“Of course. But we're not looking for a conviction, the D.A. is. Please excuse us.”

They pushed their way through the crowd and walked down the corridor to a vacant office. Khendra leaned against the door, breathing deeply.

“You did the best you could. That's all I can ask.” He waited for her response.

She pushed herself from the door and walked to the window.

“This could take a couple of days,” she said for lack something better.

“I know that.”

She felt him move up behind her. She held her breath. He pressed his temple against her head, deeply breathing the fresh scent of her hair. A thousand thoughts crashed through his head at once. There was so much he needed to say, but he didn't dare. He couldn't take the rejection. Not again.

I'm willing to listen this time,
she thought.
I've been a stubborn fool. Please talk to me.

“I guess I'd better be going,” he said in a tight voice.

She felt her insides crumble into tiny crystal pieces. Her throat tightened. She nodded, afraid to turn and look at him, afraid to see him walk away. And then he was gone.

“When do you think you'll be coming back to New York?” Cliff asked as he tapped an impatient hand on his knee.

“I–I'm not sure. It's already been five days and the jury hasn't reached a verdict yet.”

“How are you holding up?” he asked gently. “As well as can be expected.”

“Khendra, I—”

“Listen, Cliff, I really appreciate all your patience,” she said gently. “It's more than I could ever repay. And I'll be back on the job as soon as this is over. I promise.”

“I just want you to know that I'm here if you need me.”

“I know, and thank you. I've got to go. I'll call you in a few days.”

Cliff briefly shut his eyes as he hung up the phone wishing that—oh hell, he didn't know what he wished.

On the seventh day, word came that the jury had reached a verdict. Khendra got the call at her apartment and immediately notified Sean to meet her at the courthouse. She was never so overwrought with a case as with this one. Everything was all mixed up—her emotions, her legal responsibilities, her future.

She gunned the engine of her car and sped out into the teeming street, her heart feeling as if it were clutched in a vise. Snow flurries had begun to drift from the sky; as if to foreshadow an impending storm.

She met Sean in the parking lot, and together they walked to the courthouse. Silently, they entered the courtroom and took their seats.

“Would the defendant please rise?” rumbled Judge Abramson.

Sean stood with Khendra at his side. He straightened his maroon tie and buttoned the jacket of his navy-blue pinstriped suit, inhaling deeply.

“Foreman, has the jury reached a verdict?”

“We have.”

The bailiff took the folded piece of paper from the foreman and brought it to the judge. Abramson looked at the verdict impassively and returned it.

“What are your findings, foreman?”

“We, the jury, find the defendant…”

Everything was moving in slow motion. Sean heard his pulse pounding so loud in his ears he wasn't sure if he could make out what was being said. It seemed at that moment his entire life loomed before him, braced to be altered, amplified, shared, lived. He looked briefly at Khendra, and she instinctively turned to look at him. She touched his shoulder.

“…guilty of murder in the first degree.”

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.
The word pounded through his head. Although he had thought he was prepared for the worst, the reality was almost more than he could withstand. He felt as if his whole being was plummeting into a nothingness, a dark void. He felt numb, alone, afraid.

The courtroom went wild. The judge pounded on the bench, demanding that the courtroom be cleared. Reporters swarmed through the doorway, pushing their way to the nearest phones. Several spectators were taken into custody, and after what seemed like an eternity, order was restored.

A suffocating sensation gripped Khendra by the throat. She still could not believe what she had heard. How could they not find reasonable doubt? She looked around the room in a daze, blaming herself. Every muscle in her body was stretched to the breaking point, and she felt that at any moment she would fall apart.

She had let him down. Just like she'd let Tony down. What made her think she could win this case? Cliff was right all along. She was too close. She wasn't able to look at it objectively. And she had sent Sean to prison as sure as if she'd cast the final vote herself. Oh, God, what had she done?

She swallowed the knot that had lodged in her throat and dared to look at Sean as the judge announced when sentencing would take place.

He stood straight and tall, staring directly ahead, but his hands were balled into tight fists, the only outward sign of the torment she knew hovered on the edge of overflowing. His once dark, beautiful eyes were completely vacant.

She tried to clear her head, to think quickly to try and fix it. But she couldn't. The shock of defeat was paralyzing. “Sentencing will take place three weeks from today. Until such time, the defendant is remanded to the state correctional facility. Take him away.”

Sean!
her mind screamed.
Please forgive me.

Her eyes followed him as he was escorted out. He looked over his shoulder, and she could barely make out the words he mouthed as flashbulbs burst in her eyes.

“It's all right.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Stacy stared at her office phone. She had been struggling with her conscience for several days, ever since the verdict.

Maybe her suspicions were wrong, but she was usually on target when it came to seeing people for what they were. And Alex Counts was the original S.O.B. All of her years spent hustling on the street had taught her to spot them a mile away.

He played a real good game, she thought, absently biting a pink nail, but she had seen through him from day one. What was worse, she had unwittingly helped him with some of his underhanded dealings. She had typed the false documents he had drawn up for clients and for the large sums of money that were transferred in and out of his accounts. It was she who always went on the little shopping trips for his continuous string of mistresses—always under the guise it was just another trinket for his “loving wife.” The woman had to be a saint.

He thought he had picked the stereotypical “dumb blonde” for a secretary when he hired her, and she played the role to the hilt, always acting none-the-wiser. But this was going too far, and the implications frightened her. She couldn't sit back and pretend anymore.

She pulled her curly blond hair away from her face and reached for the phone just as Alex marched through the door, giving her his usual grunt of a greeting.

“Damn!” She swore under her breath, while trying to look nonchalant. He was hours early. He wasn't expected back until late that evening. Now she would have to sit in his office and update him on what had occurred since his departure.

She would just have to make the call as soon as she was free. She knew she wouldn't rest easy until she got her suspicions off her chest.

Her intercom flashed.

“Yes, Mr. Counts?” she said sweetly.

“Bring in your notes from the trial and a cup of coffee, will you, Stacy?”

“I'll be right in, Mr. Counts.” She made a face at the phone and rose from her seat.