Chapter 28
Kelli takes the stand and is sworn in, completely unaware of the conversation I had with Geneva in this courtroom.
“Do you love your husband?” is my first question.
“Yes,” she says. “Of course.”
“Why?”
“He’s everything. Good looking, generous, kind,” she says. “He’s everything,” she repeats.
“How long have you been married?”
“Five years,” she states.
“The same amount of time Geneva Marks has been his secretary.”
“Objection,” Dan growls. “Is there a question?”
“How long has Geneva Marks been his secretary?”
“Since the week before we were married,” she says. “Five years.”
“Did you ever work for your husband’s companies?”
“Yes. I was a secretary to one of his partners in another building.”
“What do you do now?” I ask.
She frowns. “Why is this relevant?”
The prosecutor interjects, “Objection. She’s right. Why is this relevant?”
I look to Judge Moore, who is sixty, with a lifetime in the court, but he’s tough, and not always fair. “I’m on a path, judge. I’m getting there.”
“Get there quickly,” he states, looking at Kelli. “Answer the question.”
I nod. “What do you do now, Mrs. Ward?”
“I run our household,” she states. “My husband is a busy man. I look out for him.”
“In other words, your life is about your husband. You live for him.”
“Objection,” Dan shouts. “Leading, and again, where is this going?”
“I’ll move on,” I say. “As a secretary, would you say that a secretary knows the innermost workings of a busy man?”
“Yes. I would.”
“Including Geneva Marks, your husband’s secretary?”
“Yes. Including her.”
“Did you know Jennifer Wright?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“My husband saw her crying at a coffee shop he frequents. She worked there. He started talking to her daily for a few weeks. When she finally opened up about her situation, he talked to me, and asked my input. That’s when I suggested a better-paying job would work wonders for her, and I just happened to know about a friend looking for a nanny.”
“And that friend can confirm the interview was set up?”
“She can, yes.”
“Please state her name for the courtroom records.”
“Carrie Matthews.”
I look at the judge as Richard moves forward. “Entering into the record a statement from Carrie Matthews confirming this information.”
Once that is complete, I move on and return to the prior topic. “Have you ever fought with your husband in his office?”
“Yes. Couples fight.”
“Have you ever fought over Jennifer?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Did you ever fight about this investigation in his office?”
“Yes.”
“What about it?”
“Random things. I don’t remember.”
“Did Jennifer Wright call your husband’s phone the night she’s believed to have been murdered?”
“Yes,” she states.
“Did you have an argument about that call in your husband’s office, within hearing range of his secretary?”
She stares at me. “I think we might have.”
“Was Geneva Marks at her desk at the time?”
“Yes. I believe she was.”
“Why did you argue?”
She shifts in her chair. “Does it matter?”
“Answer the question, Mrs. Ward,” the judge orders.
“I wanted to tell the police that I took that call, but he didn’t want me to,” she says, contradicting what Geneva told us.
There is rumbling in the courtroom, and, of course, assumed guilt placed on my client. But I’m not done. “But you did not.”
“No.”
“Why?” I press.
“He felt it would drag me into this,” she says. “More so than I already have been.”
“Based on that argument that was witnessed by your husband’s secretary, who took the call?”
“Me. I took the call.”
There is another rumbling of voices in the courtroom and the judge calls the court to order, and then looks at me. “Continue.”
“How did you go about answering your husband’s phone?”
“I was reading in bed and he was asleep and I didn’t want to wake him up,” she says. “I grabbed the call and went to the other room.”
“How long was the call?”
“An hour or so. It was a lengthy conversation,” she confirms. “But she needed to talk.”
“Did your husband talk to her?”
“No.”
“Was your husband aware that you were talking to her?” I ask.
“Not until I’d been on the call with her for a while.”
“Why did you take the call at all?”
“I knew Jennifer wanted to know about a job interview I mentioned and how it went. She was working late that night.”
“Why did she call your husband and not you?”
“Her mother was very judgmental of her pregnancy. I think that made her more comfortable with men than women. But we were working on that.”
“In that conversation with Jennifer, what else did you talk about?”
“She had a lot of problems with the father of her child. We talked about him.”
“Were you jealous of Jennifer?”
“Of course not! I loved her. She was so sweet. And I loved that my husband wanted to help her.”
“Did you believe he was having an affair with her?”
“Not at all.”
“Were you ever jealous about other women?”
“No, never.”
“Not even Geneva Marks?”
“No. Of course not.”
“You never fought with your husband over Geneva in his office.”
“I—I don’t remember.”
“But you were never jealous.”
“I don’t remember!”
“Did you kill Jennifer Wright and her unborn child?”
“No. No, I did not.”
“Did you agree to meet her that night?”
“No.”
“And yet you were the last person to talk to her that night.”
“Objection,” Dan shouts. “Badgering the witness.”
“I’m done with this witness.” I walk to my table, and Dan walks toward the stand.
“Did you kill the victim and her unborn child?” Dan asks, echoing my question.
“No,” Kelli says.
“Did your husband?” he asks.
“No.”
“That’s your opinion, not a fact, correct?” Dan presses.
“It’s a fact,” she says. “I’d bet my life on it.”
“Do you make a point of claiming opinions as facts?” he asks.
“I do not.”
“But you needed to bet on this one because there were no facts,” the prosecutor states.
“Objection,” I say, but Dan moves on before I finish.
“Were you with your husband at the time of the murder?” Dan asks.
“Yes, according to the timeline I’ve been given.”
“Are you being truthful with us today?” Dan asks.
“Of course,” she states.
“Did you tell your husband that you wanted to confess your conversation with Ms. Wright, or did he tell you to confess?”
“As I stated, I wanted to confess.”
They go back and forth for an hour until the prosecution takes his seat. I stand up. “Judge, permission to redirect requested”
“I’ll allow,” the judge states and Dan remains silent.
I immediately focus on Kelli. “Where was your husband at the time of the murder, as stated by law enforcement?”
“Asleep in bed.”
“Where were you?’
“Also asleep.”
I sit down. Dan stands up. “Judge permission to recross.”
“Objection,” I say. “He had his time.”
“The jury needs the facts,” the judge replies. “Recross allowed.”
Dan moves quickly to questioning Kelli. “Could your husband have left the house while you slept, without you knowing?”
“Yes, but—”
“That’s all,” Dan says, and he sits back down.
I stand. “Judge permission-”
“Last time counselor. This is it. Make it good.”
“Objection,” Dan shouts.
“You’re late,” the judge says. “I’ve granted his request. Make it quick, Mr. Summer.”
I nod and look at Kelli. “Have you ever left the house while your husband was asleep without him knowing?”
“Well, I—”
“Yes or no.”
“I— Yes.”
I look at the judge. “The witness is dismissed.”
The judge looks at Dan, and he approves. I stand now and make my declaration: “The defense rests its case.”
The judge looks at his watch. “It’s now ten-thirty a.m. In the interest of time and the weekend, we’ll break for a thirty-minute lunch and proceed with closing statements.” He hits the gavel on the block.
The courtroom erupts in voices and movement, and I, along with my team and client, head toward the door, while I prepare for the war I’m about to fight. Nelson and Kelli are guided into the conference room first, and as soon as I step inside, Kelli slaps me in the face. “You bastard.”
She tries to slap me again, and I catch her arm. “What are you mad about? You just ensured your husband’s freedom.”
“And turned the police attention to me.”
She tries to slap me again, but one of my co-counsels obviously got guards, because they grab her. “Do you want to press charges, Mr. Summer?”
“No charges,” I say. “Just get her out of here.”
They drag her out of the room. “You’re fired,” Nelson growls.
I arch a brow. “You want to deliver your own closing statement? Are you sure about that? Because this trial is ending with or without me.” I don’t tell him the judge won’t let him fire me this far into this thing. I want him to fear being lost and lonely in that courtroom.
“You’re fired.”
I smile. “Well. Good luck.” I turn and walk toward the door.
“Wait. Fuck.”
I face him. “Did you want pointers?”
“Since when does an attorney ignore his client’s wishes?”
“You told me to get you off at all costs. The cost was what just happened in that courtroom.”
“If they come after her, will you defend her?”
“No. Because I don’t defend killers unless they had a justified reason for their actions, namely survival. Is she worth becoming a play toy in jail?” I ask. “Because you will be. The pretty boy who gets everyone off. Literally. And I’m not sure the guards will provide Vaseline.”
He covers his face with his hands, and he’s trembling. “I love her.”
I walk to the conference table and press my hands to it, angry now. “A woman and her unborn child are dead. Do you really love a woman who would kill them?”
He opens his eyes. “I don’t know that she did it.”
“Don’t you? And you know what? If you let her get away with it, you are just as evil as she is. In fact, I’m not sure I can even do the closing. Maybe I should hand it to my co-counsel.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Do you have proof that she killed Jennifer?” I press.
“No. Yes. Maybe. I found something last week.”
“What?”
“In her purse. There was a necklace that Jennifer always wore. I saw it in her purse, but it doesn’t mean she killed her.”
“Tell the police.”
“I will,” he assures me and he sounds like he means it.
“And get the fuck away from her before you end up dead, too.” I push off the desk and exit the room, entering the one across the hall. I don’t rehearse my closing that I’ve beaten to death. I call Cat.