Indiscretions (21 page)

Cliff had been able to furnish her with bits and pieces of information, but so much was still missing. She wouldn't know anything for sure until she spoke with Sean.

Sean. Just the thought of him made her shiver.

She thought she would never see him again, and certainly not like this. She stared sightlessly out of the window. What would it be like seeing him again? How would she feel, how would she react? There was so much that was still unsettled between them, and this trial would probably only distance them more.

She would have to remain totally aloof, completely professional. There was no way she could allow her personal feelings to hamper her ability to defend him.
But how can I ever be detached when it comes to him?

Maybe Cliff was right. Suppose she'd made a mistake by coming? A man's life depended on her. She shut her eyes. She was the best. She'd handled dozens of tough cases, and she'd handle this one to the best of her ability. No matter what he might have done to her, he didn't deserve less than optimum defense.

Her heart throbbed when she imagined seeing his face, and she quickly rechecked her notes to block the vision.

The 90th Precinct was bustling with activity.

Officers ushered in their perpetrators, while a weathered sergeant barked orders and police administrative assistants dispatched teams. It was several minutes before Sergeant Bailey was able to acknowledge her presence.

“Can I help you, miss?” He looked at her with a look of curiosity and disdain.

“I'm Khendra Phillips, the attorney for Sean Michaels” she took a quick look at his name plate “Sergeant Bailey, and I'd like to see my client immediately.”

So this was that hot-shot attorney he had heard so much about, he thought. It always left a bad taste in his mouth when the haves thought that money could get them off the hook. He was sure Sean Michaels was as guilty as they come. And all the money in the world, or pretty lawyers, wouldn't change that. He'd be more than happy to see that he got just what he deserved. He leaned his beefy arms across the worn wooden desk and looked down at her with watery blue eyes.

“Got any ID?”

She reached into her wallet and produced her identification, which he perused for an annoyingly long time. He finally looked up, pursed his lips and passed the wallet back to her.

“Everything looks in order.”

Khendra bit back a retort, determined not to be irked by this obtuse man. “May I see my client now?” she asked sweetly.

“Hey, Parker,” he boomed across the chaotic room, “take this here lady back to the room, and bring Michaels out.”

A rather thin officer hurried up to her side and escorted her to the visiting room.

Khendra paced. She waited for what seemed an infinity, holding in all the turbulent emotions that pulsed in her veins. She could not allow herself to succumb to her feelings. This was a job. No matter what had happened between them. If she permitted her feelings to get in the way, they would be defeated before they began. She'd get his statement and that would be all. That will be all, she prayed silently.

She had her back turned when he entered the room, and nothing could have prepared her for seeing him again.

“Khendra.” His voice was a bare whisper of relief that fled up her spine and lodged in her heart.

She turned, their eyes met, and suddenly nothing else mattered. The room seemed to bloom with life, the dreary walls vibrated with color, and her heart stood still. She fought down the compelling urge to run into his arms, to wipe away the fear and uncertainty that loomed behind those eyes of midnight. But she wouldn't—didn't dare.

“Hello, Mr. Michaels. Have a seat and let's begin.”

She couldn't look at him.

How could she be so emotionless? Couldn't she see how badly he regretted all that had happened, how much he was hurting? All he needed right now was to see her smile, to somehow know that things would be all right between them—that she still loved him. Yet, he had to admire her no-nonsense attitude and professionalism, even in the light of all that had transpired between them.

He took a seat diagonally across from her, but couldn't keep his eyes from wandering to her face. “Khen, I—”

“Let's get the ground rules on the table. I came because I believe I'm capable of defending you. And that's the reason.” Her heart clenched in her chest at the look of anguish that filled his eyes. She swallowed the knot that had formed in her throat. “Now I want you to tell me in your own words exactly what happened that night.”

Sean looked away, an invisible shroud descending over his eyes, locking his heart. He began his story.

Was she really prepared to hear why he had been with his ex-wife? She had seen the pictures of the crime, and Carol was practically nude. Did he make love with her? Did he hold her, did he…
Stop it! Just stop it,
she told herself, trying to concentrate on what Sean was saying. Speculating wasn't going to get her anywhere. She was an attorney. An attorney for a man who had been charged with murder. And her only concern was to build a case and get him acquitted.

His pulsing voice filtered through her thoughts.

“…everything just happened so fast. She came at me with scissors…she fell…the coat rack hit her on the head. I panicked…she wouldn't move…”

His story was scattered and somewhat erratic, but she was able to piece everything together. And what she gathered from it all was he did not do it. Never once did he mention the scarf she was strangled with. Yet, who could it have been? Obviously someone else visited Carol's apartment that night. But who?

“Sean.” It was the first time she had said his name aloud, and a tremor of remembrance ran up her spine. “Did you see a scarf, a silk scarf that night?”

He looked at her as if she'd asked him if he was from Saturn. “What are you talking about? What scarf? And what does it have to do with Carol?”

“She was strangled, Sean.” She looked him fully in the eye, waiting for his reaction.

“What? But I thought…they never said…oh, God, Khendra, I didn't do it. You've got to believe me. I didn't do She was alive when I left.” His voice was an agonized plea. “You do believe me, don't you? Tell me you believe me.” His eyes burned into hers, filled with a tormented waiting.

“I believe you,” she said with more emotion than she intended. She quickly recovered. Looking away, she added, “Now what we have to do is find out who did.” As much as she hated to, she plowed forward. “I want you to tell me everything about your relationship with Carol, from the time you met, and anything else you think might help.”

She rapidly took notes, mindful to keep her feelings in check as Sean laid out the story of their stormy marriage, the ensuing scandal surrounding their divorce, including what Carol had held over his head.

“She had…pictures,” he said with, obvious hesitation. “Potentially incriminating pictures.”

Khendra's head snapped up from her notes, her pulse hammering in her ears.

“Tell me.”

“I was at one time involved in uncovering some evidence for a client who was involved in a drug bust.”

“Go on.”

“I didn't want any more police involvement. They really screwed things up. The D.A. was going for maximum conviction. But I was sure my client had been set up, so I decided to go after the dealers myself. She had me followed. And she has pictures of me, clear pictures, of me making a transaction with a known dealer.”

She briefly shut her eyes and released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. “Where are these pictures now?”

“I don't know.”

“Does anyone else know about this?”

“Just you.”

“Why would she do something like that?”

“The dealer, I found out later, was her lover.”

“And you've been paying her to keep quiet ever since?”

Her question was more of a statement.

He nodded.

“Why didn't you go to the police?”

“Are you kidding? Who would have believed me. Then, when the divorce hit the papers and her drug addiction was publicized, she swore she would tell the bar association that I helped to supply her if I didn't continue to maintain her in a comfortable lifestyle. And she had the pictures. I could have been disbarred. It wasn't worth the risk.”

Khendra dropped her head. The enormity of the deceit and betrayal rendered her momentarily speechless. “Did you at least win the case?” she asked finally, trying to lighten the dark mood that had enveloped them.

He chuckled derisively. “On a technicality.”

She took a deep breath. “Your arraignment is set for ten o'clock tomorrow morning. I know the D.A. is going to ask for the maximum bail. Can you handle it?”

“I think I can.”

“Good.” She closed her notebook, slipped it into her briefcase and rose from the hard wooden chair. “Then I'll see you in the morning. Do you have a suit?”

“I have an extra set of keys over the ledge of my door. Would you pick one out for me?”

His eyes were so tender, his voice so penetrating. She didn't want to go back to his apartment, back to memories of dreams now dead.

“I'll bring it at nine.” She brushed past him and signaled for the guard.

He held her arm. Fire raced through her body and she felt her knees weaken.

“I have so much to tell you—to explain.” His voice reached that secret place in her heart, and she almost forgot where they were and why.

She looked him squarely in the eye. “Does it have anything to do with your defense?”

Anguished silence.

Then I don't think we have anything else to discuss.”

She stepped through the door, her heart hammering madly.

Judge Abramson silently reviewed the file in front him. Slowly, he raised his gray head. “Would the defendant rise? Mr. Michaels, you are charged with murder in the first degree. How do you plead?”

Sean straightened his shoulders. “Not guilty, your honor,” he answered in a strong, clear voice.

The judge looked to Paul Gamer, the assistant D.A. “Bail, Mr. Gamer?”

Paul Gamer, a giant of a man, squared his shoulders and looked contemptuously at Sean. “The people ask the maximum of two million dollars, your honor.”

“But your honor,” Khendra interjected, stunned by the monstrous ransom, “this request is excessive. My client is an upstanding member of this community. He is a leading member of the bar and a partner at one of the most prestigious law firms in this state. He is not a flight risk, your honor.”

“Mr. Gamer?” Judge Abramson looked at the assistant D.A. dispassionately.

“Your honor,” Gamer boomed, “this crime, to say the least, is a heinous crime. This man is violent and has ties outside of this state.”

“Don't try your case here, Mr. Gamer. You'll have plenty of time for that. I agree with the defense counsel,” he continued. “Bail is set at one hundred thousand dollars.”

Sean breathed a sigh of relief.