“My point is, I can’t have him searched daily unless he’s in jail. If we don’t get him put away, he’ll be in constant contact with his little cousins and the kids at school.” Gil turned toward the window. “And anyone he passes in the street.”
Maria saw exactly how naive she’d been—with the district attorney. “Does everyone get away with lying to me these days?” Talk about losing her touch. “You tricked me into testifying, when you planned to lock him up all along.”
“I’m responsible to Channing and Ada Butler, and the family they left behind. You, of all people, should understand the kind of violence that kid’s got in him if he shot his parents.”
They’d reached an impasse. “I do, but something caused all this.”
“Other than just plain evil?” He shrugged. “Don’t let Collier throw you and we’ll get this kid off the streets. Deny the affair, but stay calm. Don’t make Griff look like a victim.”
“I know how to handle the truth.” She tugged at the neckline of her blouse, trying to cover any curves that made her look like a woman.
He assessed her. “I believe Griff’s dying to take you down because you didn’t sleep with him, but that version of the story isn’t as salacious as a woman wanting revenge against a kid who’s dumped her.”
“Is Buck going to read that journal out loud?”
“I would if I had it.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what he’ll do. If they read it in the jury room and believe it, we’re still sunk.”
“I didn’t do it.”
Not even Gil would look her in the eye. “Answer only Buck’s questions. Don’t put Griff’s future before yours—and don’t give the jury an excuse to burn my evidence.”
“I am most of your evidence.”
“Exactly.” He opened the door, but checked to see if anyone else was near. Only the bailiffs, impervious as marble. “Griff can explain away the blood on his shoes and clothes by saying he was checking on his parents. You’re the only proof against him that he can’t explain without calling you bad names, so I’d prefer you take the high road and not get arrested for contempt.”
“At least I won’t be alone.”
Nor were they now. The women’s room door opened and a tall, tired woman came out, stumbling when she saw Maria.
She took glasses from her pocket and slid them on, the better either to stare with scorn at her nephew’s doctor, or to shield her own doubt.
But Angela Hammond couldn’t hide her pain, and Maria’s instinct was to reach out to her. Angela huffed and made her deliberate way back to the courtroom.
“Don’t let that bother you,” Gil said.
“Because she won’t be the only one turning her back on me?” She tried not to sound as frightened as she felt. This town was her first real home. She wanted to help Griff Butler, but at the cost of everything that made her who she was?
Gil took her arms and spun her around to face him. “I don’t like that tone. You’re not thinking of backing out?”
At that moment, Jake came out of another door. He stared from Gil’s grasping fingers to Maria’s face. One dark eyebrow went up, and the cold father Leila had described disappeared.
The silence grew thick and hot, but Maria, adept at feeling another person’s pain, could not read Jake.
Did he think she’d been flirting with the prosecutor? Working her apparently irresistible wiles?
Without seeming to move, Jake ended up toe to toe with Gil. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His furious question had the power to shake the building on its foundation.
Gil took a step back then looked embarrassed about backing away from another man. “Talking to my client.” He stared at Jake. “Your Honor.”
“Which led you to put your hands on her?” Jake glanced at Maria. “Are you all right?”
“I’m…” She meant to say fine, but she went blank.
No one had ever protected her. She was the product of freewheeling nomads…a mother who’d perfected her skills for any job that came with a chance to attract a man, and a father who’d dropped in once in a while, always promising Maria and her sister, Bryony, they’d be a family. Someday.
Their dad had “borrowed” from their piggy banks, talked their mother out of their minuscule college funds and eventually died in a boating accident with his latest squeeze, bolting across a lake with the money they’d snatched off a poker table in a so-called friendly, floating game.
Maria remembered everything about his last departure, down to the smear of mud on his rounded shoe heel and the stitching on his carry-on bag.
Typical. The mind under stress returns to a similar episode and handles the new stress the same way. “I’m fine,” she said, as she had then, over and over again.
She wrapped her hand around Gil’s upper arm to show Jake that the prosecutor wasn’t the problem. “We were just going back.”
“Daley.”
Gil turned weary, slightly petulant eyes on Jake. “Sir, this case is getting to all of us, but you don’t have to be suspicious of me.”
“I’ll agree Buck can be persuasive when he plays good old boy, but I’m not sure you want to intimidate your own witness.”
“You’re on the verge of saying something inappropriate to a prosecutor and his witness in a case you’re hearing.”
Jake rounded on Gil again. “I don’t give a damn if you’re planning to try my grandmother next. Touch a woman in my courthouse and I’ll give you plenty of reason to ask for my recusal. Again, I ask, are you all right, Dr. Keaton?”
“Fine.” Her tongue seemed mostly stuck to the roof of her mouth. “You misunderstood.”
Jake’s twisted smile managed to suggest she made a habit of protecting violent men. “Gil isn’t dragging you into court?”
She overreacted, as would any woman who cared for a man she hardly knew and didn’t want him to think she’d let…“I’m not some sick woman who only hangs around with kids who kill their parents and guys who manhandle women.”
“Excuse me, but will you both shut up, and let’s get on with this trial?” Gil grabbed at the knot of his tie as if he were fighting its grip. “I beg your pardon, Judge, but I’ve come too far with this case to risk a mistrial now.”
“The prosecutor is right, Dr. Keaton.” Jake looked faintly startled at having to be reminded. He crossed in front of them and opened the door to his chambers.
His absence left a vacuum, as if the force of his personality had taken all the good oxygen with him.
“Why did he come this way?” Maria asked.
