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“If I,” Reese says, “visited the victim two days before her death, should it be assumed I killed her? Is that the way you would want our justice system to work if you or your loved one was innocent and sitting on the stand? Let’s talk about reasonable doubt. Did the prosecutor prove to you that my client put his fingerprint on that door the day the victim died? If not, if you aren’t sure he was there that day, that’s reasonable doubt. If you have reasonable doubt, you must acquit.”
He ends his statement with a list of suspects. “If you have any inclination to believe one of these people I’ve presented as suspects killed the victims, then you also have reasonable doubt about my client. Reasonable doubt equals acquittal. Guilty until proven innocent is another country. This is America. Here we are innocent until proven guilty.”
The jury is attuned to him, listening, nodding, scribbling notes. I didn’t see them doing that with Dan. By twelve, all eyes are on the judge. “The jury foreman has spoken on behalf of the jury and asked that they begin deliberations this afternoon rather than Monday morning, in hopes they can end their sequestration. We will reconvene at four thirty, at which time we will either read a verdict or adjourn for Monday morning.” He bangs the gavel.
When I would exit the courtroom with the rest of the crowd, a bailiff catches me. “This way, miss.” I follow him to a private hallway, and it’s not long before I’m in a private office with Reese, who immediately kisses me.
“Well?” he asks.
“It was as brilliant as I knew it would be.”
His hands settle on his waist under his jacket. “Did you watch the jury?”
“You had them.”
“Dan?”
“Not like you. And you ended the trial. You have this. What do Elsa and Richard think?”
“I don’t debrief with my team. I don’t want opinions when I can’t change history.”
But he asked for mine. “Where is Nelson Ward?”
“With my team. He forbade me from entering. He has his panties in a wad over Kelli.”
“After all you’ve done for him, he forbade your entry?”
“Fuck him. I defended the hell out of his ass.” He puffs out a breath. “Let me go check with my team and let’s get some air. I need air.”
Fifteen minutes later, we are at a coffee shop around the corner with an outdoor area and heaters, talking nonstop about everything but the trial while Reese’s phone blows up with text messages and calls, most of which he ignores. “Anything on the publishing deal?”
“No, but when a board has to approve money, it takes time.”
He glances at his watch. “It’s been almost an hour.”
“Do you think they will even call us back until four thirty?”
“I was hoping they’d walk into a room, cast a vote, and be done.”
“One and done,” I tease.
“That’s right, sweetheart. This time, I wanted a one and done.”
“What’s next after this trial?”
“I actually have a case that I have a junior partner working on, but it’s my client and someone I went to school with.”
“So it’s personal.”
“Not personal but he’s a casual friend and like I said a good guy in a bad situation that hit him right as I went to trial. I actually need to go to the office tomorrow and catch up on the case, so I can hit the ground running Monday.”
“Tomorrow? You are a beast, aren’t you?”
He laughs and nuzzles my neck. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, sweetheart. After I have that meetup with him, though, I’m decompressing. No anything.”
I have this sudden realization that after this trial, I don’t know what comes next for him or me. Or us. I’m only staying with him until the trial is over, and it’s basically over. His phone rings and he glances at the number, a strange look on his face. “I need to take this,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”
He stands up and leaves me here alone to take the call in private.
