Love, Lies & The D.A. (19 page)

Read Love, Lies & The D.A. Online

Authors: Rebecca Rohman

“Hi,
Caroline… is there anything else I can help with before I leave?”

She
holds my hand and smiles.

“Oh,
Hon, you’ve been wonderful. I think we have everything under control here.”

“I’m
happy to help.”

“Thank
you for getting Jonathan here, especially under such difficult circumstances.”

“I
know how it feels. My dad died the same way. It was agonizing not being at
home.”

She
tightens her hold on my hand.

“Caroline,
Charles has done so much for me… if you need anything at all please, please
call me.”

I hand
her my card after writing my cell and home numbers behind it.

“Thanks
for everything you’ve done… and all that food. Are you going home now?”

“Yes,
but I’ll stay if you need me.”

“No,
Hon. Thanks.”

“Do
you know where Jonathan is?”

“I
think I saw him going into his dad’s office. It’s the first door to the left
off the foyer.”

I
knock gently
on the door and enter. A huge green chesterfield
sofa occupies one of the walls in the room where he sits. My heart sinks to the
pit of my stomach at the sight of him. His eyes are red, with skin to match.
His hair is a disheveled mess. I realize he’s been taking this a lot harder
than he’s been letting on.

I run
to him and embrace him. His hold on me tightens. I feel the agony that emits
from his body and the moisture that has accumulated on his face.

“I’m
so sorry you have to go through this,” I whisper. “I know you can’t see it
right now, but as time goes by, it gets easier to deal with. I promise.”

“It
wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he utters. “He’s always been here…” His voice
trails off.

There
are no more words. Heartbreaking sounds fill the room. I feel for him, for his
family. I remember the moment I found out my dad died, and suddenly, I can’t
hold my tears back any longer.

We are
two souls in a world of emotional pain, our bodies entwined with each other.
Right now, I want to be with him, to stay with him and support him. At this
precise moment, nothing else matters—not the fact that he’s the DA.; not the
fact that he might someday send me to prison; and not the fact that despite the
aforementioned, I have incredibly deep feelings for him.

He
lies down and pulls me in his arms. We lie there in silence for hours; there
are no words. Sometimes, nothing needs saying. Sometimes, there is nothing to
say. It seems that all he needs at this moment is my presence. At some point, I’m
not sure when, I listen as the silence in the room gives way to his soft, long,
deep breaths. I’m tired…

I open
my
eyes. It’s still dark outside. The soft glow from the green banker’s lamp
mildly lights the space. I need to go home. Glancing at my watch, it’s about
4AM. I sit up on the sofa. Jonathan is fast asleep. The tendrils of his messy
hair almost cover his eyes. I gently push them away and kiss him on his
forehead.

This
has been devastating. As I gaze at him, I wish there was more I could do for
him. I suppose this is something we all have to go through at one point or
another in our lives. That doesn’t mean it’s easy to sit by and watch, though.

I have
to go. I’m about to stand when I feel his grip around my wrist.

“You’re
leaving?” he whispers.

“Yes.
I should probably get going. Your bags are still in my car.”

“Can
you give me a ride home, please?”

“Sure.
Where do you live?”

“Not
too far from here.”

We’re
about to walk out the dark silent house. Before he opens the front door, he
brushes my hair aside, cups my face in his hands, kisses me tenderly on my lips,
and then embraces me.

“Thank
you for everything,” he says. “Your being here has made a huge difference
today.”

We
take the short drive through the empty streets to his house in a comfortable
silence. After an extremely long hug, we say our goodbyes, and I watch him
disappear behind the doors of his contemporary house.

* * *

The
last few days have been unbelievable. I feel cheated. The man I’ve looked up to
all my life has unexpectedly been snatched away. In the morning, he was arguing
his point as a lawyer, and in the evening, he was gone. There were no warnings,
no clues, nor the slightest inclination that anything was wrong.

He
taught me everything I know. I am the man who I am because of him. I feel like
a part of my being is ripped away. He was taken way too soon. I wanted more
time with him, more phone calls, more family dinners, more weekend trips, more
sailing on his yacht—his great passion outside of work.

Legal
advice—he was my go to person for legal precedence, and in a matter of hours,
all gone.

He
always told me that when he was gone, I would replace him, and I used to think
that I would be happy and honored to embrace that role. Now, I just want my dad
back.

After
a long, long shower, I pour myself a glass of wine, and I figure out how I am
going to get myself together to move on.

First,
funeral arrangements. Mom only had two requests, the venue and she wanted a
private service. It’s up to me to handle the rest. Before I tackle anything, I
need to make sure my caseload is handled while I handle things with my family. I
sit up in my bed with my laptop and begin making arrangements.

I feel
completely overwhelmed. Perhaps I need to go to bed. After an hour, I still can’t
sleep. I think of Jada. She’s been so great throughout this. From the moment I
told her Dad died, she forgot her own problems and handled everything down to
the minutest detail. I didn’t expect her to be there for me this way, but she
has. We’re just starting to become more acquainted with each other. It would be
great to hear her voice right now. After spending two days together, I got used
to having her around. I miss her.

My
phone blasts
through the quiet of my room, waking me. The
call I was hoping I would never receive has come. Jada’s file has come to my
desk. The disappointment I feel when my assistant calls me with the news is
unreal; the timing couldn’t be any worse. It is at that moment I know my job
and integrity are at stake here—I have to end this.

* * *

I can’t
get Jonathan out of my mind. I want to be with him, to be there for him, but I
guess that under the circumstances, doing that in plain sight might raise
eyebrows, even worse—questions. I shower then make myself some coffee. With
Charles dead, it looks like I might be staying in San Francisco for a little
while, at least until the funeral.

At
about eight o’clock, my phone rings. I answer. It’s a detective from the SFPD
wanting to ask me some questions. I plead the fifth and tell him my lawyers
will contact him.

So
shady. It’s been a day that my lawyer is dead, and they’re trying to see if I
will cave and talk to them because Charles is no longer here. Then it occurs to
me that Charles is no longer here. My top-notch lawyer, the man who was
supposed to keep me out of prison, is gone. The man who was going to show the
world I am innocent is gone. My stomach turns. I call his office, and as one
would expect, Charles’s death has caused some chaos and panic. I leave a message
and hope that someone will call me back.

It’s
mid-morning, and I wonder how Jonathan is doing. I can’t call him, or text him,
or email him, so it’s torture. It’s possible that both my cell phone and my
house phones are tapped, so there’s almost no way for us to communicate. I
guess not unless it’s in person.

Charles
had arranged to have my car checked for more tracking devices; now, I’m not
sure what the status of that is. When I do find out, I should have them check
the house as well.

I’m
hoping and praying that Jonathan will somehow get in touch. I thought of using
my
Bobbyphone
, but then I remember he can’t know
about it. I suppose I’ll have to preoccupy my mind and wait until he makes a
move.

I turn
the TV on to the local news channel, and I’m glad I’m not in the headlines, not
directly anyway. Charles is, and they make the connection to my case. Now, all
the pundits are talking about what will happen to my case now that Charles is
not here to represent me. Unfortunately, I wonder too.

It’s
late evening, and I still haven’t heard from Jonathan or his father’s office.
According to the news, Charles’s funeral will be the day after tomorrow in a
private ceremony. I want to attend. I suppose now I have to see if I even make
the list.

I will
need to find a new getaway, or maybe it’s time I try to settle into a routine
in San Francisco and try to get my life back to normal. However, I worry about
the fact that someone followed me and someone tried to break into my home. If I
remain in San Francisco, whoever this person is will know where I am. They will
know where to find me, and that is a big worry.

Perhaps
tomorrow I will head into the office for a while. Make sure things are up to
standard and my absence is not affecting my business. I was due to attend a conference
in Brazil in a week, but with everything going on, I’m not sure I should be the
face representing my company. I realize now that, as much as I may want to
settle back into an old routine, unless Richard’s murder is solved, I will
always be a detriment to my own business. For now, it looks like I will have to
continue operating from behind the scenes.

It’s
about 8:30PM when I head down to the lobby to pick up my mail. As I’m about to
return to the elevator, the young lady at the front desk runs over with an
envelope for me. She said it was hand delivered a short while ago. I feel a
rush of excitement. I’m hoping it’s from Jonathan, and it is. Enclosed is an
invitation to the funeral, but also a personal note from him.

Hope
you’re well and safe.

I look
forward to seeing you soon.

I’ll
be thinking about you.

I
wish that he had said more. However, I suppose that’s as much as he could say
without causing too much suspicion in case that invitation had fallen into the
wrong hands. I feel a bit of disappointment, and again, this very note is a
reminder that this thing going on between us will only have a bad ending with
one or both of us getting hurt. Nevertheless, I am thankful for his
communication. I wish I knew how he was
really
doing.

Days
later, it’s
after 9AM when I slip into a black boat-neck
sheath. I tie my hair into a neat bun, and after I apply a tad of makeup, I add
some jewelry, slip on a pair of black pumps, and I head down the elevator.

I’m a
little nervous about seeing Jonathan today. I’m not quite sure what to expect,
or what he expects of me.

I
arrive early at the funeral venue. I am so thankful that this is a private
event. At least while I’m here, I won’t have to be concerned about rude
reporters making a scene. When I arrive at security, Sophie is talking to one
of the four officers at the entrance.

“If
you call Jonathan, he’ll let me in,” she says.

I hand
the other officer my ID, he checks my name against a list, then he allows me to
go through. Sophie mumbles an expletive under her breath as I walk by. I
completely ignore her.

When I
enter the room, his eyes are the first I see. He smiles and immediately walks
towards me.

“Hi.
How have you been?” I ask as he kisses me on the cheek then embraces me.

“I’ve
been better. It’s been a rough few days.”

“I
wanted to call. I was worried about you, but…”

“I
know. Will you come to the house after? We’re going to ask people to stay away
after the burial, but I’d like for you to be there.”

“Sure.
Do you need me to bring anything?”

“No thanks.
The flowers, basket, plus all the food you sent were enough. Mom told me she
received them.”

“Great.
How’s everyone else?”

“Megan
is still struggling. I’m hoping she makes it through this alright.”

“It
usually takes some time. Although, some of us never
really
get
over it…”

“I’m
sorry,” he says because he knows I’m talking about myself.

“I’m
going to grab a seat right here,” I say, pointing to the pew near the back.
“You know where I am if you need me.”