Love, Lies & The D.A. (20 page)

“By
the way, your friend Sophie is trying to get in at the door,” I whisper when he’s
about to leave.

“God,”
he sighs and heads in the direction of the entrance only to return alone
minutes later.

Before
the service starts, David and Kat sit next to me. Probably sixty or seventy
people are present, but not many that I personally know. A few I recognize as
public figures, including the Mayor of San Francisco and the Governor of
California.

The
service pays great homage to Charles’s life. Now, as Jonathan reads the eulogy,
he manages to hold back tears, but many, many times while he reads, he pauses
to collect himself.

At the
burial ground, I stand alone at a fair distance from the family, but I ensure
that Jonathan can see me clearly. During the service, and even as I stand here,
I’ve witnessed a few stares and overheard some whisperings. No doubt, some have
recognized me, and although I don’t welcome the attention, I suppose on some
level, it’s not something I can completely avoid.

The
burial is extremely difficult for the family. Megan hasn’t been able to stop
crying. Pierce tries to console her but ends up breaking down himself. It isn’t
until the casket is lowered that Caroline and Daniel hold each other and cry. I
watch from a distance as Jonathan puts up a brave front, but it isn’t long
before he too breaks down.

To an
observer, it’s heartbreaking. To have gone through that exact experience, I
wish there was more I could do. For me, standing there and not being able to
console Jonathan is the most difficult; it’s heart wrenching. But I am very
much aware that there are many eyes on me, and at this moment, complicating the
District Attorney’s life is not something I intend to do. As difficult as it
is, I stand my ground and observe from afar.

Memories
of Daddy’s burial flood my mind. I suddenly feel an overwhelming sense of
sadness—from that day. Coupled with the fact that I’ve lost a man who had
become so much more than my lawyer, he was my confidant, a friend… a few tears
come tumbling down.

The
crowd has begun to disperse. I think it’s best that I quickly head to my car
and pull myself together there. Within moments of turning my back and walking
away, his call and the feel of his fingers surrounding my wrist interrupt my
sad thoughts.

“Are
you okay?” he asks.

I turn
to face him, gazing into his glassy red eyes.

“Of
course… I’m fine. Are you?”

“Thank
you for being here. I know this wasn’t easy for you.”

“It
was nothing,” I murmur.

“You’re
still coming over? Right?”

“I’ll
be there. I promise.”

The
air becomes intense between us. I stare at him, but I refuse to succumb to my
emotions. Imagine my shock when he embraces me in full view of everyone. My
body reacts, and soon my arms surround his rugged body.

“Thank
you so much,” he whispers.

Slowly,
I pull away, taking his hands in mine. I draw them from around my neck. I know
he’s vulnerable, but I don’t want to be the cause of anyone questioning his
integrity when it comes to his job. I smile at him gently.

“I’ll
see you at the house.”

“Sure…
We’ll be close behind you.”

A
woman opens
the door when I arrive at the house. I think
she is one of Charles’s two sisters.

“We
said we wanted to mourn in private,” she says, with a look of disapproval.

“I’m
sorry for your loss,” I reply softly. “Jonathan asked me to be here.”

She
doesn’t respond, but steps aside, allowing me in.

The
only people there besides immediate family are Charles’s two sisters, one
brother, and their four adult children, spouses, and grandchildren.

I don’t
think the woman who opened the door to let me in is happy by my presence. Since
allowing me into the house, she’s been casting me ugly glances across the room.
I’ve seen the rest of the family, but I don’t know where Jonathan is. I know he’s
here because his car is outside.

Staff
are in to assist; therefore, making myself busy in the kitchen or helping with
stuff is not going to work today.

Megan
sits quietly in the corner alone. Maybe I should go chat with her.

“Hey.
Can I get you some coffee or juice?”

“No. I’m
not hungry.”

“What
are you trying to do, beat my record for who can go the longest without eating
after their dad dies?”

She
looks at me.

“Your dad
died?”

I nod.
“In exactly the way your dad did… I was close to your age when it happened too.
The day after he returned home from my graduation.”

“I’m
sorry.”

“You
will always miss him. But if you concentrate on what you shared, the happy
times, I promise you it will get easier.”

“I don’t
know how to get over this… or how to move on.”

“Well,
I can tell you your father wouldn’t be very pleased if he knew you hadn’t eaten
since he died. Eat, if you want to start moving on… and yoghurts and liquids do
not count.”

She
looks at me, and her lips curve upward. It looks like I’m making progress.

“Please
eat something, a sandwich, cake, ice cream, pizza… anything.”

“You
can be very persuasive. You should become a lawyer.”

“I’ll
stick to what I know.”

I ask
one of the waiters to fix her a plate. When she’s eating five minutes later,
Caroline looks at me from across the room and mouths thank you.

I’ve
been here for forty-five minutes, and still there is no sign of Jonathan. I
stand to go in search of him when he appears.

He
looks at me but barely smiles. My body turns cold. I know something is wrong
(besides Charles’s death). He nudges his head to the left, urging me to follow
him. I do. Moments later, we’re in his dad’s office.

 “What’s
wrong?” I ask once the doors close behind us.

He
circles me in his arms and holds me in a long embrace. After, I pull away and
look at him.

 “Your
file came to my desk a few
days ago.”

I don’t
know where to look, or exactly what to say. I feel my legs go weak. Eventually,
I collapse onto the sofa.

“Jonathan,
I did not do this.”

In
my head, I can hear both Charles and Bobby saying,
‘speak
to no one about this case.’

He
squats in front of me and places his index finger on my lips.

“Please,
don’t say anything. Just listen. Jada, I realized over the last few days that I
can’t handle this case. There are too many conflicts: My dad representing you.
My dad believing in your innocence. I believe in your innocence… and I’ve
developed some really deep and complicated feelings for you. I had to recuse
myself from your case.”

At the
sound of his words, I’m not sure whether I should be happy or sad. I know that
by him doing this, it will raise questions—from his colleagues, the media, and
the people who elected him into office.

“This
could tarnish your reputation.”

“If I
didn’t do it, it most definitely would. This was the only choice I had.”

My
hands are shaking. I’m not quite sure what to say.

“So
they’re going to press charges against me?”

“There’s
probably already a warrant out for your arrest.”

“I’ve
been calling your dad’s office, but no one has returned my call.”

I’m
scared. I’m not quite sure what to do. I pull my phone from my purse, and there
is a missed call. I listen to the message. It’s one of Charles’s employees
telling me that I need to show up for an arraignment at two o’clock. I look at
my watch. It’s close to noon.

“I
have to go.” I nervously and eagerly pull my keys from my purse, dropping them
twice before I can run out the door.

“Jada,
wait.”

“I can’t.
I have to appear in court at two.”

I run
out of the house, barely saying goodbye to anyone, and head down to Charles’s
office.

When I
arrive,
a young man I recognize from the service walks towards me.
He looks slightly older than I do.

“Ms.
McLean?”

“Yes.”

“My
name is Joshua Goldberg. I’ll be taking over your case.”

“Hi.”
I follow him into the conference room. While doing that, I send Bobby a text
message to let him know what is happening.

“Do I
have to appear in court? Can you appear on my behalf?”

“Unfortunately,
I can’t. Those are felony charges against you. You have to be present.”

The
next few hours of my life seem like a dream. I am completely humiliated. Before
we go into court, my lawyer escorts me to the police station, where I turn
myself in to the police. There, I am booked. They photograph me, take my
fingerprints, etcetera, and as I leave, there are hordes of photographers
waiting to get a glimpse.

From
there, we go to court. I look to the other side of the room, and thankfully,
Jonathan is not the one standing there. It’s some other shark.

I am
charged with two felony counts. Count number one, murder in the first degree,
and count number two, aiding and abetting. After I enter a not guilty plea, I
listen to the prosecutor argue all the reasons I should not be granted bail: I
have access to bucket loads of money, I’m a flight risk, I have family abroad,
I’m a danger to society, and the list goes on.

Ultimately,
because I have a clean record, own a business, and I’ve been publicly a
well-known good standing citizen in the state, the judge grants me bail on the
condition that I turn in my passport and not leave the state.

I am
relieved. I exit the courtroom with my lawyer, and while I try to ignore the
media circus around me, Jonathan walks by. We look at each other, but exchange
no words. He shakes hands with Joshua in passing, just saying hello.

Two
hours later, I am free to leave. Joshua tells me he will be in touch with my
preliminary hearing date within the next few days and will send the
investigators over to sweep my condo and my car.

Today
has been emotionally exhausting. When I arrive home, all I want to do is get
into my hot tub and relax with a glass of wine. I’m about to do that when the
concierge calls to say the investigators are there. After another hour delay
and one more tracking device later, I’m able to relax.

Tomorrow,
I’ll make my move to another retreat so the media or whoever has been after me
does not bother me. The investigator told me that he was heading to Sacramento
that night, so he was more than happy to redirect my spies.

As I lie
in the tub, memories of my last hot tub encounter with Jonathan come running
back. Now that he’s recused himself from my case, I wonder what that means for
us, if anything. I suppose what the media is saying might shed some light.
Would they know his reason for recusal or would that remain confidential?

My
landline rings again.

What
now?

I run
from the tub to the kitchen to answer the phone. I look at the phone and
realize it’s the concierge—again.

“This
had better be good, Mr. Brown. I’ve had an unbelievable day.”

“I
hope it’s good. Can I see you? May I come up?”

Jonathan?

“What
are you doing here? Don’t worry. I’m sending the elevator down.”

I run
into my room and slip on a long sleeve tunic dress. As soon as I’m done running
a comb through my hair, I use some mouthwash and finish just in time to hear
the ping from the elevator. By the time I’m out of my bedroom, he awaits me in
the foyer.

“Hi.”

“Hey,”
he replies, kissing me on the cheek and surrounding me in his arms. I slip my
arms around his neck in a warm and extremely long embrace. I feel a sense of
relief, from what I’m not sure.

“Here
would be the last place I’d ever expect to see you.”

“I’m
so sorry about today.”

“Why?”
I lead the way into the great room. “Be careful. I tracked water in running to
answer the phone,” I say walking towards the kitchen.

“Wow.
Jada. Some place you have here… Magnificent view,” he says, panning the glass
walls that overlook Alcatraz and the bay.

“Thank
you. I just redecorated. I’ll show you later. Would you like anything to
drink?”

“Red
wine if you have any,” he replies, occupying a seat at the island.

“I
have pinot noir and a Châteauneuf-du-Pape. You pick.”

“Châteauneuf.
Are you okay?”

“I’m
fine. Why?”

“You
were arraigned today.”

“That’s
a fact I am very much aware of, thank you. Exactly why are you here,
Counselor?”

“I’ve
been worried about you.”

“Well,
don’t. You have your family to think about. You lost your dad. I’m the last
person you need to be worried about.”

“I
care about you too much not to worry.”

I
blush.

“Why
were you at work today anyway?”

“I had
a press conference.”

“About
my case?”

“Yes.”

“Did
you discuss why you recused yourself?”

“Yes.
I had to be candid.”

“What
explanation did you give?”

“I
told them the truth.”

“Counselor,
why won’t you just come out and tell me what you bloody well said?”

“You
know no one in the US says that, right?”

“I’m
quite aware. I’ve lived here half my life. Now tell me.”

“I
told them the truth. I told them my dad was your lawyer. You had become friends
with both my family and me. And I didn’t think I could make an unbiased
decision because, despite whatever evidence the police
think
they have, I believe you are innocent.”

“Well,
thank you for the vote of confidence, Counselor.”

“What
are your plans for this weekend?”

“Between
the two of us, I think I’m going to find a house in either Big Sur or Carmel.
If I find one in time, I’ll leave tomorrow.”

“Why
so soon?”

“Numerous
reasons. I’d prefer if I didn’t have to deal with the media, and a PI found
another tracking device on my car. The investigator was heading to Sacramento
tonight, and he took it with him, so hopefully, I’ll get a good head start if I’m
heading in the opposite direction.”

“With
what’s been happening, you shouldn’t be going anywhere alone.”

“Well,
staying here isn’t an option. I can’t live a normal life here. And besides, I
can take care of myself.”

“You
can come to Lake Tahoe and stay with me. We are now free to pick up from where
we left off last weekend.”

I
flush. “Jonathan. I’m not sure I’m ready or if I can give you what you want.”

“What
are you afraid of?”

“That
it’s too soon… I’m rebounding… You’ll get hurt… I’ll get hurt… I’ll ruin your
reputation. Do you want me to go on?”

“If he
wasn’t killed, do you think you would have gotten back together?”

“Absolutely,
unequivocally not.”

“He
really hurt you.”

“You
think? Can we not talk about this? I tried to cleanse this place of any memory
I had of him… or her.”

“Do
you get lonely?”

“What’s
with all the deep personal questions? How come I’m the one doing all the
talking? I feel like I’m under cross examination.”

“You
haven’t asked me any questions.”

“What’s
the deal with Sophie?”

He
turns red.

“What?
Cat caught your tongue?”

“Sophie…
Sophie is…” he stammers.

“What?
Your fuck buddy?”

His
mouth drops open.

“Little
Miss Potty Mouth.”

“So… is
she?”

“I
guess she could qualify as that.”

“No
long romantic weekends at Lake Tahoe?”

“Just
one… Did something happen between you two? She called asking all sorts of
questions and making insinuations the other day.”

“About
me?”

He
nods.

“I
didn’t want to discuss it with you then, but she accosted me at your parents’
house.”

“What?”

“She
threatened me.”

“You’re
kidding, right?”

“No. I’m
not.”

“What
did she say?”

“She
ordered me to stay away from you and told me if I didn’t, I’d regret it. When I
tried to walk passed her, she pushed me.”

He
gasps.

“Don’t
you worry. I can handle myself. I twisted her arm behind her back and told her
if she ever touched me again, I’d break her fucking arm off.”

He
stares at me—astounded.

“You’re
quite the bad ass.”

I
smile at him but say nothing.

“I… I’m
sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“You
don’t have to say anything. Just keep your pit bull on a leash.”

“Jada,
I’m sorry about that. I’ve never seen that side of her, and she knows where
things stand between her and me.”

“Well,
it looks like your little trysts mean a whole lot more to her than they do to
you.”

He
sighs. “I never saw that coming.”

Why?
Have you not looked at yourself in the mirror?

“So
why aren’t things more serious between you?”

“Let’s
just say a surname and status is what’s most important to Sophie.”

“And
not to you? ‘
Mr. Don’t-you-know-who-I-am?’
How often has that garbage worked for you, anyway?”

“You’d
be surprised.”

I tilt
my head to the side. “I can’t believe that line would ever get you the desired response.”

“I got
your attention, didn’t I?”

“I
don’t know if it’s the type of attention you’d want. Do you know that for the
first few weeks I knew you, your name was
Mr.
Asshole
? Even Bobby use to call you that.”

He
erupts in laughter.

“Make
that Mr. Thoroughbred Asshole.”

I
giggle. “You used to sicken my guts.”

Or so
I thought.

“Well,
I’m making progress then.”

“Oh
shut up.” I blush. “You hungry? I can order us dinner?”

“Sure…
you know, I can’t say anyone has ever spoken to me the way you have.”