Authors: Glenna Sinclair
Harrison
The days leading up to the trial passed in a blur. My mornings were filled with beatings from Kyle and his cronies. My evenings were filled with rereading Katie’s letters and slipping into that meditative mindset where I could dream about making love to her. I counted down every day that passed by, consoling myself that, at the very least, the day the trial arrived I would get to see Katie again.
I awoke that morning to a gray, miserable day. A film of fog and rain covered everything. I couldn’t help but think how typical it was that the weather was so dire on my first day outside the confines of prison in almost a month.
After a trip to the prison barber to get my hair styled, I was delivered one of my suits that I was allowed to wear to court. Dressing up smartly made me feel almost human again.
Mack didn’t say a word as I was taken from my cell. He’d said very little since that first time when he’d encouraged me to take Katie’s call. But he watched me knowingly whenever I took Katie’s letters out of my drawer. He must have known he’d had a hand in reconciling us.
Derek led me out my cell and along the corridor.
“Good luck, Wrexler. You know all the guys here are behind you.”
“Thanks,” I said, feeling my stomach swirl with anguish.
“If you’re still going by the time my shift ends here, I’ll come watch the verdict.”
I appreciated his support.
He opened the doors of the prison and walked beside me across the yard to where the prison van was waiting to take me to court. The rain had turned the world a miserable, steel-gray color. It was the color of defeat.
***
When we pulled up to the courthouse, the first thing that struck me was the noise. There were rows of people outside, holding banners proclaiming my guilt and shouting rude things at me. I hunkered down in my seat, feeling vulnerable.
Once inside I was taken to another room where I was to wait until my court session was ready to begin.
I picked my fingernails nervously. I’d been informed my mother was in court, as were Shantelle’s and Catherine’s family. I decided to calm my frantic mind by breathing slowly and slipping into my dreamlike state.
Just like before, Katie’s face materialized before me. Her beauty took my breath away. Without saying a word, I cupped her face gently in my hands and brought her face to mine, touching my lips lightly against hers. It felt so real. A bolt of electricity raced through from the place where our lips met, spreading through every fiber in my body. I lost myself in the sensation, tasting her, breathing in her scent, feeling tingles running up and down my spine.
Then I pulled away and gazed into her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed pink.
“Harrison…” she said breathlessly. “We shouldn’t be doing this here.”
All at once I realized that the Katie who had materialized before me had been real. I had not imagined the kiss. She was really standing before me.
I looked around, suddenly aware of our surroundings. But the room was empty.
“Galiema’s setting up,” she explained. “It’s just us.”
Just us...
Before she had a chance to say anything more, I wrapped my arms tightly around her, pulling her body close to mine. She threw her arms around my neck. Our lips met, moving against one another’s with a fierce passion. My mind blanked as I gave way to the sensation, the real sensation of being with Katie. Her mouth was so soft and warm, so inviting.
We pulled apart and her eyes roved from my shiny leather brogues up my crisp gray pants, then over the fitted white shirt and matching gray jacket, and finally up to me neat, styled hair. I realized then it was the first time Katie had seen me in anything other than a prison jumpsuit or jogging pants. That and stark naked, of course.
“You look amazing,” she said.
I knew women found me attractive, but there was something else in Katie’s eyes. It wasn’t just lust she was feeling as she looked at me; it was more powerful. Her pupils were dilated almost as though in astonishment. Love?
“So do you,” I replied, eyeing her black, well-fitted dress and the matching stilettos. She always dressed in ways that sent my temperature soaring and my pulse racing.
Then we pressed our bodies together again, embracing, running our hands over fabric, squeezing the flesh beneath. Katie’s mouth found mine again. My hands explored her body, feeling the curve of her hip and her round breasts beneath the fabric of her dress. A noise of arousal escaped from her throat, heightening my own excitement even more.
I inched her backwards until her back was against the wall, then lifted her higher and hitched up her leg. I pressed my straining erection against her crotch. An involuntary moan escaped my lips as all those weeks of my mounting desire for her culminated in this one moment. Then my hands roved up the inside of her dress, searching for the elastic of her panties.
She pushed me away suddenly.
“Harrison, we have stop,” she said, panting hard. “We can’t do this here. We’re about to go to court. What if someone caught us?”
I knew she was right. I drew back, my heart pounding, and rested my hands against the wall above her.
“You’re right,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I turned away, breaking my gaze from her irresistible, smoldering body, too aroused to be able to watch her smooth down her rucked-up skirt. “I just couldn’t resist.”
Katie touched my arm lightly with her fingertips. “We’ll have all the time in the world to make love once this is over,” she said. “Are you ready?”
I adjusted my jacket. “I’m ready,” I said.
“I’ll see you in there,” she said, squeezing my arm tenderly, before moving out the door and out of sight.
I stood there, dazed, still feeling the sensation of her body against mine. I desperately wanted to believe that we could win this. The thought of never being able to enter her again was too painful to bear.
Katie
I knew what had just happened with Harrison had been reckless, but I just hadn’t been able to control myself. In that moment when we’d both realized we were alone together, our bodies had taken over. It was like I’d gone into a trance in which I had no choice but to kiss him passionately and fiercely. Maybe it was the knowledge that we might never get the chance to be close like that again. If we lost the trial, that might very well have been the last kiss we’d ever get to share. Whatever had taken over us back in the side room, it had put to rest all the fears I had about whether I was good enough for Harrison. Catherine’s shadow may still be lingering over me, but that kind of passion couldn’t be faked. That kiss contained love, there was no doubt about it. But the thought that it may be our last made my heart drop into my stomach.
The courtroom was packed with reporters; amongst them was Jim Larson. I had to fight the urge to smack his smarmy moustache right off his face.
There were many other people in the gallery. I’d been informed that the families of both victims were attending. I picked them out quickly. Catherine’s mother looked grand, like a woman of power and prestige. Her father had deep-set lines, as though the last six months following his daughter’s death had aged him beyond his years.
Shantelle’s family was red-eyed. Their pain was rawer, more outward. The woman I presumed to be Shantelle’s mother rocked a whimpering toddler on her hip, while her other arm cradled a young girl. Shantelle’s siblings? Children? I didn’t want to know. There was too much pain in that room.
Galiema caught my eye as I took my seat and nodded, as if to say,
we’ve got this
. I felt bad about what had just happened with Harrison. It had been reckless. Galiema and I had worked so hard on the case and I’d almost thrown it away by getting caught up in a moment of passion.
Just then, Harrison was led into the courtroom and to the box. He looked so lost. The only courts Harrison had any experience with were the ones he played basketball on. This wasn’t his world, and he so didn’t belong here.
The prosecution entered, too. Of course, the prosecutor on the case was my smarmy ex-boyfriend, Mark Pickering. Jessica fondly referred to him as The Prickering. I could tell by the look on his face that he thought he had this one in the bag. But he still had a whole jury to convince, and all we needed was to make sure one of those people had enough reasonable doubt to vote not guilty.
At last, the judge entered and we all stood. He gestured for us to sit, and the proceedings began.
Mark gave his opening statement first. He started by painting Harrison as some kind of monster, creating a caricature that couldn’t be further from the Harrison I knew.
“We all know how the defense is going to play this,” he said. “They’ll use all the tricks in the book to make you doubt the truth. They’ll tell you the forensic data is inconclusive. They’ll give you innocent explanations for every wound on Miss Leeson’s body. They’ll tell you that police incompetency has led to mistakes in the handling of evidence or the questioning of witnesses. And finally, they’ll tell you that the smallest sliver of doubt is enough cause for you to vote not guilty.”
I stifled a yawn. I’d heard the same old spiel a million times. I mentally willed Mark to wrap it up sometime soon. But just as I thought he was drawing to an end, he threw a curveball.
“It might interest the ladies and gentlemen of the jury that Mr. Wrexler’s defense team has more reason to get its client off than financial gain. Miss Katie Scott, Mr. Wrexler’s current attorney, is actually in a sexual relationship with her client.”
I felt the ground drop away from beneath me. My breath stuck in my lungs, making me feel like I was suffocating. Someone must have noticed us earlier. I’d been a fool to think we’d gotten away with it. Anyone could have caught us; the place was packed full of reporters. I wouldn’t put it past Jim Larson to have spied on us.
I could sense Galiema beside me. She was keeping completely still, showing absolutely no reaction to the news. But I knew her well enough to know she was absolutely seething. Whether it was directed at Mark for bringing it up, or at me because she believed him, I didn’t know.
I tried my best to take a leaf out of my mentor’s book and not show my emotions outwardly. If Mark didn’t have any proof, then they were just empty words anyway. In fact, they were more than just empty words; without evidence, they were more fodder for our argument. A desperate attempt by a desperate prosecution to smear me and make me look untrustworthy.
“Now, I don’t know about you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Mark continued, “but I’m not sure how well justice can be served in such a situation.”
I stood. “Your Honor, can I please object to these ludicrous allegations?”
The judge looked at me. “They’re opening statements, Miss Scott. So no.”
“The prosecution is trying to muddy my name,” I continued, brazenly ignoring his ruling. “With a complete lack of evidence to back it up, I might add. I want this struck from the record.”
The judge gave me a cold glare. “I said no, Miss Scott.” Then he paused. “But you are right about the evidence. Mr. Pickering, unless you have anything to back these claims up, I’m afraid I’m going to have to have your entire opening statement struck from the record.”
I sat back down in my seat, feeling somewhat triumphant. But Galiema’s ice-cold stare quickly put me back in my place.
“Well, in that case, it’s a good thing I do,” Mark replied.
My stomach churned with anxiety. What could he have gotten? CCTV footage of us kissing in the meeting room? Surely that wouldn’t be available to him so quickly. I glanced behind me at Jim Larson. Could he have taken a photo somehow? Surely we would have noticed.
Whatever they had, I couldn’t let them present it. I stood up. “Your Honor, the prosecution can’t enter anything into evidence that we haven’t been notified with in advance.”
The judge frowned, mulling over the situation. “This isn’t evidence for the case, though, is it, Miss Scott? It’s evidence about your competency. I’ll allow.”
Mark smirked and pulled something from his files. He walked up to the bar and handed it to the judge, then turned back around to address the jury. “This is a…I suppose you could call it a love letter, although sex letter may be more appropriate given the content. It was written by Miss Scott and sent to Mr. Wrexler during his incarceration. It was intercepted by the guards in prison.”
My heart began to race. I was fuming. How the fuck had he managed to get hold of Harrison’s personal property? I glanced at Harrison, appealing to him with my eyes. He looked forlorn, as though he had a pretty good idea about how his property had ended up in the hands of the prosecution.
Beside me, I could feel the angry heat radiating off Galiema.
The judge handed the letter back to Mark, who cleared his throat and began to read, “‘I can’t stop thinking about your body. I want to lick every inch of you, to taste you. I want to feel your hard cock in my hands, to take it in my mouth and suck until you come.’”
I wanted the world to swallow me up. I couldn’t look at Harrison. I couldn’t bear to know what he was thinking about me right now. My stupid lustful letter might have cost him his freedom.
I knew I should keep quiet but I was gripped by the urge to exonerate myself.
“That proves nothing!” I cried, knowing my cheeks were bright red. “Not only would the prosecution need to produce a handwriting expert to prove that such a letter was, indeed, penned by me, it would show nothing more than a childish infatuation with my client, which, might I add, is not a crime.”
“Neither is sleeping with your client,” Mark shot back. “But it definitely shows a lack of professionalism, wouldn’t you say?”
The judge hammered the desk. “Order. This is madness. Miss Scott, please stop interrupting. Mr. Pickering, please present some actual evidence or move on.”
Galiema’s hand was suddenly on mine. She was trying to get me to shut up and sit down. I was just digging a bigger hole for myself.
Mark looked back down at the letter. Once again, he read my words aloud, spilling my deepest, dirtiest secrets into the courtroom for all to hear. “‘I keep thinking of the way you teased me, how you touched the tip of yourself against me, of how delicate and gentle you were with my body. My mind is consumed with memories. I want more. I need more. You’re the best lover I’ve ever had.’ Is that better evidence, Your Honor?”
I tried to bite my tongue but I just couldn’t help myself. The drive for self-preservation was too strong.
I stood up and threw my arms wide, while beside me, Galiema let her head sink into her hand as though defeated.
“A letter means nothing,” I cried. “Those words could be pure fantasy. They could be copied from a romance novel. They might even be words written by Mark, himself. There is no way this type of attack can be included on the record. And may I remind the prosecution that I am not the one on trial here. It may be of interest to the ladies and gentlemen of the jury that Mr. Pickering was once a lover of mine and he is making up this allegation to smear my name.”
The judge sighed. “Despite my better judgement, I’m going to have to agree with Miss Scott this time. This seems like a cheap attempt to bias the jury, Mr. Pickering. Are you going anywhere with this?”
Mark paced forward, touching his chin. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but Miss Scott leaves me no other option.” He pressed play on the record player and my voice filled the auditorium.
“Harrison…”
“What is this?” I cried, leaping up again from my seat. But I knew all too well. It was a recording of my and Harrison’s conversation on the prison phone.
“What’s happening?” I was asking on the recorded tape. “The trial’s coming up. You’ve cut me off completely.”
“I took on a new lawyer,” Harrison replied. “It was for the best.”
“The best for whom?”
“The best for you. I…I can’t do this with you because it hurts too much. Do you understand? I might be going to prison for the rest of my life. I don’t want you waiting for me.”
I couldn’t sink farther down into my seat if I tried. An intense feeling of doom washed over me. I’d been an idiot by rekindling our affair under the watchful glare of the prison guards. Of course the phones were tapped.
I’d let Harrison down. The jury was going to hate me and he was going to go to prison forever. And on top of it all, I could feel Galiema’s eyes burning into me. This was the end of my job. Probably of my career. Who would want to hire me after this?
“Let me see you at least,” my voice echoed through the chamber. “If not as your lawyer or your lover, then as a friend. I care about you, Harrison. I don’t want you going through this shit on your own.”
“I care about you, too,” he replied. “All I do in here is think about you, Katie. Every time I close my eyes, it’s your face that I see. Whenever things get to be too much, I think back to that weekend we spent in your office. Despite everything that was going on, that was the best few days of my life. Getting to know you, exploring you...”
I couldn’t stop myself from peering up at the jury. Some of them were shaking their heads as though disgusted by what they were hearing. One was stifling a laugh, trying to hide her embarrassment behind her hand. But one or two of them had different expressions, like they were enjoying what they were hearing. They weren’t disgusted with me at all. If anything, they looked impressed...
“Harrison, stop. You can’t do that to me, it’s not fair.”
“Do what?”
“Turn me on like that when you’ve already said you don’t want me.”
One of the female jurors began fanning her face. It hadn’t occurred to me that Harrison’s beauty would work in his favor—that being made to fantasize about sex with him would make at least one of the jurors feel warmer towards him. Maybe there was a chance that Mark’s attack on me would backfire. That instead of making me look like an untrustworthy slut, it would make me look like a powerful, victorious woman.
“Maybe...maybe I do want you,” Harrison’s voice on the tape continued.
“Maybe?”
“Not maybe. Definitely. Fully. Completely. And it’s driving me crazy.”
Mark stopped the recording and smiled at me. I shot him a nonchalant expression, as though I’d hardly been bothered by the tape at all. He was expecting to see me looking mortified and frowned when he didn’t get the response he was expecting.
Galiema was the first to speak. “May we take a recess?” she said to the judge.
The judge sighed with exasperation. “A recess? Before we’ve even heard the opening statements? This is going to be the slowest court case in the history of America. But I’m inclined to agree. I think some of the jurors need a cold shower after listening to that.” There was a tittering of laughter. He hit the gavel. “Five-minute recess.”