Manhunt (22 page)

Wes knew as well as Michael did that his lack of faith in the system was part of the reason he was where he was now. Michael sighed exasperatedly, breaking Wes’s cardinal rule, show no expression, before quickly regaining his poker face.

Three days later, they finally had a panel of 12 jurors and six alternates. There was a blur of activity in the following week, what with pre-trial conferences, various motions being filed, and meetings with Wes and his team no less than once a day to answer questions and get updated on how things were progressing. He argued with Wes nonstop about how he wanted his defense presented, to the point Wes had gone so far as to walk out on him once.

The only thing that was clear in Michael’s mind was his visits from Nikki. They had made a vow to keep their conversations as free from tears and angst as possible. It wasn’t lying to each other, per se, it was just that they were having a hard enough time dealing with their own loneliness and worry for the other one. Crying and complaining was just going to compound it, so they only talked about pleasant things. She told him about going to his apartment and how she stole his Care Bear t-shirt. He made her promise if he ever got out of jail she’d give it back. Nikki just laughed.

He could tell she was doing a little better each time she visited. She’d decided against returning to work at the grocery store, instead choosing to research opening her own bakery. She had put her house up for sale and was hoping to use the profits as a down payment on a new building, figuring the inheritance money she’d never spent would keep the business afloat long enough to see if it was going to take off. She was looking for a location which would accommodate the bakery on the first floor with an apartment above. Sophie had gone to Nikki’s house and retrieved all of her recipes and baking pans. Christian had offered to help finance it, promising her it was an honest investment, not just pity money. Between Sophie being pregnant and everything that had happened with Nikki, Christian had made a decision to turn over a new leaf. He closed up the chop shop and dumped every other less-than-legitimate business he had. Nikki’s bakery was the first step towards his goal of being, as Nikki called it, “a pillar of the community.” Michael laughed at that. He could just see Christian as a city councilman or a member of the Board of Education. They’d never know what hit them.

Nikki hadn’t unlocked any more memories, which in Michael’s eyes was both good and bad. Good because sleeping dogs should be allowed to lie, and bad because it frustrated her there were still happy memories tucked away somewhere in her brain that she just couldn’t reach. She might not want to remember any more pain or heartbreak, but she did want to remember every single happy memory she had of her and Michael together. Michael assured her she would remember when it was time to remember, and he was thankful she left it at that. At the end of every visit, she would hug him and tell him she loved him, sneaking a kiss when she thought she could get away with it, usually when Todd was working. After, Michael’s life would return to the blur of gray business suits and even grayer, concrete prison walls.

Finally, the first day of the trial arrived. Michael entered the courtroom, not in his best suit, because Wes said it would have seemed pretentious, but in one of his better ones. He looked to the audience behind the railing and was comforted to see Nikki right behind his seat. On her right were Jeremy, Aaron and Olivia, all smiling at him, though clearly it was strained. On her left were Christian and Sophie, who was now clearly pregnant and subconsciously rubbing her protruding tummy. What would he give to be able to hug them all, kiss Nikki with all the passion he had for her, feel Sophie’s baby kick while she lectured him on his duties as the baby’s godfather? He hated that they were forced to see him approach the table with wrist and ankle restraints, led through the room by a bailiff who had a firm hold on his elbow. He hated even more that he had to turn his back to them and sit down without a word, not even so much as an opportunity to thank them for being there, supporting him. At least the bailiff removed his restraints before the judge and jury entered the room.

The prosecution presented first, and they didn’t hesitate to go for the throat. They had DNA evidence putting Michael at the scene of the crime, witnesses from the hospital who had seen him enter the building with his arms covered in blood and looking “lethal,” and even a few character witnesses from high school, all former friends of Sebastian’s, who called Michael a “walking time bomb” where Sebastian was concerned. They presented a copy of his school records which documented his fist fight with Sebastian. They even used his father’s abuse of him and his mother against him, calling Sebastian’s murder “vigilante justice.” By the time they were done presenting their case nearly a week later, Michael was certain his fate was sealed, despite Wes’s brilliant cross-examinations. What sane person would believe this was a crime of passion, of temporary insane rage? No, the way Michael saw it, the jurors had no choice but to conclude this was the cold, premeditated murder of a lifelong arch enemy.

After the prosecution rested, Judge Stone released them for the day, instructing them to reconvene on Monday to begin hearing the defense. As Michael was led away to be returned to the jailhouse, he saw Wes talking to Nikki and his family intently. They were so engrossed in what he was saying that not a one of them were watching him as he walked away, as they had every other day that week. Wes was excited, talking with his hands and every so often, they would nod furiously. It sent a chill down Michael’s back. He tried to dig his heels in, insisting he needed to talk to Wes, but the bailiff denied him, threatening him if he didn’t cooperate. He submitted and instead took to asking every guard who walked by his cell to please call his attorney and let him know Michael Brennan needed him. The only one who paid him any mind was Todd, who assured him he’d left a detailed message with Wes’s secretary. Michael grew angrier and more frustrated as the weekend passed without a visit from either Wes or anyone else. It was almost as if they were intentionally avoiding him.

By Monday morning, Michael was on the verge of a panic attack. Why weren’t they talking to him? Wes looked calm and collected when Michael walked into the courtroom, which only irritated Michael more.

“What the fuck?” he whispered to him as soon as he sat down.

“I have been charged with providing the best defense I possibly can for you. At this moment, that includes doing some things you don’t want me to do.”

Michael was seriously considering standing up and requesting the judge remove Wes as his counsel when Wes continued.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Ms. Wright asked me to give you this.”

He slid a yellow piece of paper, clearly torn from the bottom of a legal pad page, in front of Michael. It had one word, written in Nikki’s handwriting.

Don’t

Michael turned around, an eyebrow raised in shock. Nikki was smirking at him and shaking her head. Did she really know how he was going to react? It would seem so. With a huff and a pout, Michael turned back around, still not happy, but not standing up, either. Wes went to take the paper back, but Michael slammed his hand down, keeping it on his side of the table.

“You never know when I might need reminded not to send you packing,” Michael half joked, half sneered.

Wes just chuckled smugly and released the note.

After the same morning protocols of the previous days, Wes stood up.

“I would like to call as my first witness Jeremy Brennan.”

Michael turned as the bailiff opened the gate and allowed Jeremy to enter the proceedings area in order to take the stand.

Wes approached the sworn-in witness and smiled warmly. “Jeremy, you and I have become rather well acquainted these past few months, haven’t we?”

Jeremy chuckled. “Yes, I suppose we have.”

“Would you care to explain to the court why that is?”

Jeremy started to look a little uncomfortable, shifting slightly in his seat. “I hired you shortly before I was arrested for Sebastian Cross’s murder.”

“And why were you arrested for murder?”

“Because I confessed,” Jeremy responded simply.

“Well, that leads me to a rather obvious question. Did you murder Sebastian Cross?”

Jeremy looked at the jury, then looked at Michael apologetically. “No, I did not.”

Wes simply smiled. “Then what would make you confess to a murder you didn’t commit?”

“The media and the police were making it out as though Michael did it, and I know in my heart that’s not true. It couldn’t have happened the way they say it did. He’s not a coldblooded killer. He’s had a hard life, him and Nikki both, and Michael didn’t deserve to have this happen to him on top of everything else.”

“I suppose now is a good time for you to explain to the court the nature of your relationship with Michael.”

Michael noticed Wes referred to him by his name, whereas District Attorney Singer referred to him as “the accused.” He figured it was probably subtle manipulation on both parts, trying to alter the jury’s perception of him.

“He’s my brother.”

“Your adopted brother,” Wes clarified.

“Yes, technically, but my relationship with Michael is no less close because we do not share the same blood. If anything, we are closer than most blood-related siblings I know.”

“Fair enough. Why is that, if I may ask? Why are you so close to Michael? So close to him, in fact, that you would confess to a murder he was a person of interest in?”

Jeremy didn’t even hesitate before replying. “Michael has the biggest heart of anyone I know. I was a bit of a geek growing up, Bill Gates syndrome, I suppose, and got picked on a lot. Michael always stood up for me, defended me. When we got older, he supported me other ways, giving me the confidence to take the risks necessary to grow my business into the company it is today. I owe my success, both personal and professional, to Michael.”

Michael wished he was allowed to interact with the witnesses. He would be shaking his head at Jeremy. Michael had lost track of how many times he told Jeremy he was successful because he was brilliant, not because of any encouragement on Michael’s side.

“You mentioned that you do not believe Michael committed these crimes. What makes you believe he’s innocent?”

“I know it in my gut. Michael would never do something like that. He’s one of the most compassionate people I’ve ever met, with the possible exception of Nikki.”

“The police records indicate that you were the person who rescued Nicole Wright—Nikki, as you call her—the night of Mr. Cross’s death. Is that correct?”

Jeremy nodded.

“If you could, please speak your answers so the court stenographer can add it to the transcript.”

“Oh, sorry. Yes, that is correct.”

“Thank you. Can you tell me, from the beginning, what you saw?”

Jeremy took a deep breath, closing his eyes and shuddering before speaking. “I got a phone call from Nikki. She was screaming bloody murder, saying that she’d locked herself in the bathroom because Sebastian was trying to kill her. I could hear Sebastian in the background. It sounded as if he was pounding on the door. I put my phone on speaker and headed for her house. I heard a door crash, then pounding again, much louder this time. I can only assume that he’d broken down the bedroom door and had moved on to the bathroom door. Sebastian was telling her she was nothing but a skanky whore—” He looked behind Michael in apology, presumably at Nikki. “—and telling her he was going to treat her like whores deserve to be treated, that he was going to, ummm... fuck her so hard she wouldn’t even remember Michael’s name. He demanded she open the door, but Nikki just kept screaming ‘Go away! Leave me alone, please!’ Then I heard the bathroom door crash. Nikki screamed and I could hear a scuffle. He was dragging her out of the bathroom...”

“Objection, your honor,” the D.A. stood. “Witness is speculating.”

“Agreed,” the judge said. “Please restrict your responses to that of which you have personal knowledge.”

“Of course, your honor. I heard what to me sounded like a struggle. Sebastian told her she would be lucky to live through the night, but if she did, that by the time he was done with her, no one but him would ever want her again. She tried to reason with him, telling him that she hadn’t seen Michael in months, but he ignored her. I heard what sounded like someone slapping someone else, and then the line disconnected. I assume that Nikki dropped the phone when Sebastian hit her,” Jeremy looked at the D.A., who was starting to stand again, and smiled, “but of course I can’t know that for sure.” She sat back down.

“And how long was it between the time the call disconnected and when you arrived at Ms. Wright’s house?”

“I don’t know, really. Five, ten minutes, maybe? It usually takes me twenty-five to go from my house to hers, but I wasn’t exactly doing the speed limit that night. I was about halfway there when the phone died.”