Trials (Rock Bottom) (3 page)

“Oh God, so sad,” I say. But I can tell from Scott’s expression, that’s not really what he needed to tell me. “What?” I urge him.
“Just spit it out.”

“Well, they think…”

I hold my breath, preparing for the blow.

“
They think Jeremy murdered her.”

I remember when I was in the tenth
grade, we had a foreign exchange student from Russia spend a semester in our school. We all tried to be nice to him, include him and talk to him. But he didn’t speak English very well, and the English he did speak was hidden behind such a thick Russian accent that it took us forever to decipher what he was saying. That’s exactly how I felt right then. I understood the words Scott said, but I couldn’t process them.

“Okay,”
my therapist says, staring over her glasses at me. “And then what happened?”

“Well, I just kind of went
into a weird fog. I didn’t cry. I didn’t react. I just did the dishes like nothing was wrong and went to bed.”

“And why do you think that happened?” she continues, writing notes on her notepad. Therapy is so exhausting. I appreciate Dr.
Sprintz taking time for me on a Saturday for this emergency meeting, but I don’t want questions. I want answers. I don’t know why it happened. Aren’t you the professional? You tell me!

“I don’t know. I think maybe my mind didn’t want to process it. Like I was in denial?” I said as a question.

She nods. “Do you think you’re facing reality now?”

“No,” I admit
. “I still don’t feel anything. It’s like I’m numb.”

“Have you considered what this will mean for your internship?”

“Yes,” I answer, honestly. “But I don’t think it will affect it very much. I’m just an intern so I’ll most likely be helping with paperwork for lesser cases.” I will admit, even if not out loud, that part of me is hoping I might be able to overhear some information. The other part of me is terrified that continually hearing about him will chip through the psychological block in my head, throwing me into the complete nervous breakdown I’m sure is brewing underneath of it.

“Well, how do you think you’ll handle it if he
’s convicted?” she asks me casually.

I feel the undercurrent of panic rise through my core and up into my throat. “That won’t happen.”

“How do you know?”

The feeling increases.
“Because, he’s just a suspect right now. They’re only questioning him. Just because it was at his house…”

“
He seems to be the number one suspect,” she says, again peering at me above the frame of her glasses.

I begin to shake, the sensation in my stomach and throat becoming unbearable. My breathing increases, my pulse racing. “
He wouldn’t kill someone. He’s a good man. How could you say he’d do something like that?” I’m furious, directing my anger, perhaps unfairly, at my doctor. I glare at her.

The doctor waits a moment while I steady my breathing. “It’s something you have to consider, Dylan. It’s better to think about all possibilities and your reaction to them first so that you’re not caught off guard.”

“Well, it’s not a possibility,” I say, indicating that I consider the conversation over. I’m being stubborn and I know that, but I can’t handle thinking about Jeremy being guilty.

Dr. Sprintz has
successfully, however, planted the seed in my head. I think about her question all night and all of Sunday. As much as I want to pretend that I know Jeremy too well to entertain the idea that he may have done this, I know in my heart that I’m fooling myself. I don’t know Jeremy very well at all. That’s not to say I don’t love him- the Jeremy that was with me for that year in my life was, and will always be, the love of my life. But, as I noted before, I don’t know almost anything about the Jeremy he is now. Maybe the Jeremy that he has chosen to hide from me is capable of such a crime.

Monday morning seems to come too fast. It’s depressing that with everything going on I can’t even bring myself to be excited about the internship I’ve worked so hard for. I laugh darkly to myself as I turn my alarm off. I had originally broken up with Jeremy so I wouldn’t be distracted from getting this internship and achieving my dreams, yet here I am distracted by him anyway. The universe is playing a sick joke on me; the stars aligned all to teach me a cosmic lesson.

Scott stirs and rolls over to me
as I set the alarm clock back down on my bedside table. His blonde hair sticking up haphazardly, he smiles at me and lovingly pats my leg. “Good morning,” he says, stretching.

“Hey.” My stomach is in knots. I have no idea
what to expect when I get to the office.

Scott’s eyes stare at me tenderly. “It’ll be okay. You’ll do great.”

I smile at him but don’t respond. I haven’t been very talkative this weekend. I also haven’t eaten too much or slept soundly. I just don’t know how I’m going to handle working in an office that’s preparing a case against Jeremy.

Scott and I go through our morning routine as if everything is fine. This is going to be a long week for me, between still going to class half of the day and working at my internship the other half, but I welcome the distraction. I dress in black pants and a blouse, sensible but comfortable. Scott and I head out the door for class and I try to brighten my spirits.

School goes by quickly and I’m able to avoid any mention of Jeremy and anything to do with the girl’s murder.. Even though this news is still relatively new and shocking to me, everyone else was informed days before I was, and now they seem to be over it. By the time Scott and I are walking to the parking lot, my mood has brightened, even if just a little bit.

Scott and I reach our c
ars, parked next to each other. We had taken separate cars this morning because I have to leave straight from school to report to my internship. My little red convertible practically purred when I crawled behind the wheel for the first time in a long time. It made me think of the drive I took to get to Boston in that car.

Scott lets go of my hand he had been
holding as we walked. He turns to me and runs his hand through my hair. “I love you, Dylan. You’re going to do great.”

I sigh
, smiling back at him and nodding. I know that he must understand I’m not really nervous about my performance, and more afraid about hearing news about Jeremy. But neither of us seems to want to discuss that. “Thanks, babe. I’ll be home after work.”

Scott pulls me into his massive arms, holding me to his chest. I breathe in his sweet scent and allow it to comfort me. I feel a peace fall
over my mind and body. Scott has that effect on me.

I get into my car and punch the address
to the office into my GPS. When I finally reach One Bulfinch Place in the center of Boston and am able to find parking on the street surprisingly easy. Exiting the car, I stare up at the familiar building. It’s one of the most beautiful buildings in Boston. The front reminds me of the old cotton plantations in the South, with huge pillars holding up the overhang above the doors. The bricks of the building are a stunning reddish-brown color, the accents over the windows white. The building could fit easily into Washington D.C.’s architecture due to its large golden dome sitting on top of it. Actually, it also reminds me a lot of Philadelphia, and for a moment I’m home sick. I make a mental note to call my father later.

Walking into the office building, I
go through security, who directs me to the DA’s office. I’m expected and greeted warmly by the secretaries there. They give me a tour of the massive office, easily the biggest district attorney’s office I’ve ever seen. Multiple doorways stretch down long hallways. Every room is enormous and are filled with rows of desks, all with employees scribbling on paper and typing on computers. The older female secretary providing me with most of my tour, Blair, takes me to get a temporary badge and fill out some paperwork. By the time I get everything done, it’s almost time for me to leave.

Blair takes me ar
ound to meet the staff. There are so many people I know I won’t remember their names. I try to really pay attention to the lawyer’s names that I meet, as most likely I’ll be reporting directly to one or more of them. Just before I am ready to leave, I’m taken to the office of the District Attorney, Daniel Current.

Blair nods to Mr. Current’s personal secretary, Samantha, and knocks lightly on his office door. “Come in,” I hear a low voice grumble.

Blair opens the door and I enter the office behind her, admiring the dark wood décor of his bookshelf and desk. The office is huge and has books and paperwork everywhere. The man behind the desk, still writing away on a pad of paper, doesn’t look up at us initially. I see the top of his salt-and-pepper hair. After Blair and I stand in front of his desk for a moment, he looks up at us and gives us a kind smile. His blue eyes are gentle and I immediately like him.

“Hello,” he says, nodding at me. I smile back at him.

“Mr. Current, this is Dylan Ackhart. She’s the third year intern from Harvard,” Blair introduces us. Mr. Current stands and straightens his red tie, leaning over his desk to extend a hand towards me. I shake his hand firmly. Daniel Current is an impressive man in stature, standing almost six-foot-three. His career has been equally as impressive. He’s tried and won tremendous cases in his almost twenty-five years as a lawyer for the city of Boston. Many victims can personally thank him for seeking and winning justice for the criminals that wronged them.

“Of cou
rse,” he says. “We are excited to have you join us. We’re very impressed with the work you’ve done at Harvard.”

“Thank yo
u, Mr. Current,” I say, beaming.

He motions towards the chair behind me, indicating that he wishes me to sit. Blair excuses hers
elf politely as Mr. Current positions himself in his chair. After the door shuts behind Blair, I look back towards him. He has a confused and strange look on his face. His eyes are studying me.

“You look very familiar. Have we met?”

My throat closes. I hope he doesn’t recognize me from when I was dating Jeremy. But, God, that seems like so long ago.

“I don’t think so, Sir,” I say, my voice a nervous whisper.

He shakes his head. “Well, as I was saying, we’re very happy to have you here, Miss Ackhart. I hope to set you up with a few different lawyers in every division so that you get a rounded experience.”

I smile brightly. “That sounds amazing, Sir.”

“I think we’ll set you up first with the Municipal Court Division. For the first few weeks, you’ll be here helping them with the paperwork that is done in this office. Then, you’ll be traveling to some of the courts. Is that alright?”

I can barely contain my excitement. Not only will I be able to see how all of the courts in the district work from the inside, I’ll be away from the division handling Jeremy’s case. I won’t hear any inside information, but at least I won’t have to hear about him every day. “That’s wonderful.”

“Great,” he says, standing again. I stand with him as he walks around the desk, motioning for me to follow him out of the office. We walk down a hallway and into a large room, with seven or eight desks in the middle of the room. We approach the desk of a middle-aged man, filling out paperwork.

“David,” Mr. Current says. The man looks up immediately in surprise and stands. They shake hands.

“Mr. Current. How are you, Sir?” the man asks, breaking eye contact with him to look over at me.

“Good, goo
d,” he responds, releasing the man’s hand and putting it on my shoulder. “This is Dylan Ackhart. Dylan, this is David Shuster, Esquire. He works in this division and has been here a long time.”

Mr. Shuster
smiles at me and shakes my hand. His teeth are blindingly white and the sides of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. His blue eyes almost sparkle at me. His friendly personality beams through him.  “Hello,” he smiles at me.

I nod as Mr. Current continues. “She’s ou
r new intern from Harvard Law. Ms. Ackhart is a third year and the top of her class. She comes highly recommended. I was hoping she could shadow you for a few weeks or so. Maybe she can help you with all the paperwork we’re behind on.”

Mr. Shuster nods
, still smiling. “Great, wonderful.”

Mr. Current turns his attention back to
me. “Miss Ackhart, I leave you in capable hands.” He shakes my hand and we say our goodbyes before he walks away back towards his office.

“Well, Miss Ackhart, I’m glad to have you,” Mr. Schuster says.

I smile. “Please, call me Dylan.”

He sits back down in his chair and indicates the desk behind him. “This is empty. You can use it. You’ll need a desk for all the paperwork you’ll be doing, trust me,” he says, smiling.

I laugh nervously. “Sounds great.”

After talking for a few more minutes, it’s time for me to leave. I thank Mr. Shuster and tell him I look forward to working with him, and I am. As I make my way back out to my car, I can’t believe how everything is working out for me. I’ll be stuck doing paperwork for the Municipal Division while the whole investigation is going on. I haven’t heard one thing about him all day. I get my own desk so I don’t have anyone looking over my shoulder all the time. I just hope my internship continues to go this smoothly.

“Scott?” I say, walking through the front door. It’s strangely quiet in the house and all of the lights are out. I furrow my brows and set my things down by the front door, kicking my heels off. I see a faint flicker of light coming from the living room. “Scott?” I question again, still no response.