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Dan stands up but stays behind his desk. “How many hours of behavioral studies, psychology classes, and special training have you had, detective?”
“Hundreds.”
“In your expert opinion, based on your interviews—”
“Objection,” Reese says without even standing, and smartly before Dan is able to connect his client with the word “murder” in that question. “The word ‘opinion,’” Reese continues, “calls for conclusions not based on evidence.”
“Sustained,” the judge says, eyeing Dan. “Move on, counselor.”
“I’m done with the witness,” Dan states, sitting back down, which is a huge win for Reese. If there is a surprise coming, it’s not here.
Reese stands up, clearly not done yet. “Redirect, your honor?” After the judge’s nod, Reese continues, “Detective, how many times in your career have you thought someone was guilty and discovered they were not?”
“A number of times.”
Dan stands up. “Objection. Irrelevant and immaterial.”
I smirk. He should have said that before the detective answered the question.
“Sustained,” the judge says.
“Understood,” Reese says. “I won’t ask the detective how many times he was wrong.”
“Counselor,” the judge chides.
“My apologies, judge. I’ll move on.” He eyes the detective. “Did you have enough evidence to convict my client?”
“As I stated—”
“Yes or no,” Reese presses.
“No.”
“In other words, your opinion, no matter what it might be, was not enough to convict my client.”
“No. It was not.”
“And right now, all you have to offer myself and this jury as evidence is your opinion.”
The detective’s face tightens. “Correct.”
Reese sits down. “No further questions.”
Reese calls a second detective next, and the morning is his. He owns it. Come lunchtime, I head out of the courthouse, eager to meet up with Reese and talk about the morning. The sun is high, warming the day, and with my boots, turtleneck and jacket, it’s perfect, like Reese’s performance this morning. I’m just walking down the steps when my phone buzzes. I pull out my phone and find three missed calls, all from my publisher. This can’t be good. I dial them back as I walk, assuming it’s my editor trying to reach me, since I didn’t actually listen to the messages like I should have.
“Melanie,” I say when she answers. “You called? I’ve been in court.”
“Yes. I called. Liz says that you two parted ways.”
“Yes. We did. It happened yesterday. I was going to let you know, but the courtroom has to be my focus this morning.”
“I understand, but that’s why I called you directly. A representative for Reese Summer called our office this morning.”
I stop walking, an instant knot in my belly. “What? Why?”
“Reese Summer says that he will not write a book, but he won’t talk to anyone else who might, except you.”
My God. What has he done?
