CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Praevisio
The alarm droned somewhere in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t move. I was exhausted. Despite going to bed early to recover, the longer I stayed there, the more tired I felt.
I dragged myself out of bed and practically slid across the floor to the hallway, then to the stairs, the doorbell ringing so insistently I couldn’t ignore it.
“I’m coming!” I practically shouted. “What the hell.”
When I opened the door, the sun blinded me for a moment and I struggled to see. The large silhouette against the light soon gave way to clearer details. Then his eyes made me stumble backward until I hit a wall I didn’t remember being there.
“Hi, Doctor.” Dante’s voice dragged across the floor, pinning me in place.
“Y-you scared me… what are you doing here?” I looked him over—he was still wearing his Braxton jumpsuit. “Did you escape?”
He glanced down at himself and smiled.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” His fingers ran along my jaw and wrapped around the back of my neck. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”
Dante brought his lips close to mine.
“You should leave.”
“You’re not getting rid of me.” He brushed his nose against mine. “I possess you in the cruelest way a man could… I’ve gotten into your mind. Your cells. Your dreams.”
I closed my eyes, not because I didn’t want to see what came next, but because I wanted to feel it with all my other senses.
Dante’s breath warmed my ear and I almost moaned when he practically growled my name.
“Helena…”
“Dante,” I breathed, barely able to speak.
“It’s time to go.” His lip brushed my earlobe and I clutched the sheet.
The alarm blared again and I gasped like I was drowning. I nearly leaped out of bed as if it were a trap.
I stared at myself in the mirror, his words from the dream still coursing through me. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes heavy, my breath escaping through parted lips.
My nipples hard against my shirt, the warm sensation lingering in my ear. It had felt so real.
I grabbed some clothes from the closet and got dressed. I needed coffee and maybe my old therapist’s phone number.
I typed a response to Célie, who’d asked if I’d be at the office that morning. I’d head there after stopping by the courthouse for one last conversation with the judge before the hearing.
When I parked, Quinn was waiting for me as usual, leaning against his SUV.
“You’re always cornering me, Quinn,” I complained, adjusting the gray suit I’d chosen for today—to match my mood, hidden behind large sunglasses.
“I thought we’d have a chance to reach an understanding before we walk in there like strangers.” He stopped in front of me.
I stared at him.
“We’re not going to reach an understanding because you expect me to back down, and I expect to crush you in front of the judge.” A mocking smile spread across his face.
“Since you’re not going to back down, I just want to extend a courtesy.” He pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. “So you won’t be caught off guard in front of the judge.”
I opened the envelope and checked its contents.
“We found Dante’s DNA at Quentin’s house,” he said, as if this put the weapon in Dante’s hands.
“I can read, Quinn. And it says here ‘partially’ compatible.”
“It may not be a well-preserved sample, but it places him inside the house.”
I took off my sunglasses so Quinn could see the sarcasm dilating my pupils.
“If the best you have is a partially compatible, poorly preserved sample against my client, maybe you’re the one who should back down. In fact, you’re practically begging me not to.”
I left him behind and walked to the judge’s chambers, where he was already waiting for us.
“Sit down,” Judge Fisherman ordered.
I sat down, followed by Quinn.
“As you know, the case is drawing a lot of attention, and I want to make sure you both have your heads in the right place.” The judge stared at me. “We’ll maintain special security arrangements for the hearing to avoid the chaos we had during the custody hearing.”
“Right.”
“I’d like to request that my client be allowed to wear a bulletproof vest,” I said, and Quinn looked at me in surprise. “Excuse me, Counselor, but I’ve been doing my homework, and we learned that Quentin was being investigated for diverting medications from his father’s company.”
“That’s a confidential investigation.”
“Well, maybe it didn’t stay as secret as you thought.
” I smiled, grateful the investigator had sent me this last night.
“As Judge Fisherman said, this case is drawing a lot of attention, and it wouldn’t surprise me if the real killer took advantage of a security lapse to harm my client and permanently frame him as the murderer. ”
“The real killer?”
“Yes, the one you're ignoring while you deliberately pursue my client, trying to pin this on him instead of letting the evidence reveal Quentin Darwin's cold-blooded killer.”
“You've got to be kidding me.” Will glared at me. “I know how to do my job, Helena.”
“Dr. Torres, please.”
“Enough!” the judge interrupted us both. “Save that fire for the courtroom.”
I looked at the judge, who turned to me.
“I agree that for the security of the proceedings, we should establish a special surveillance system.”
“Thank you,” I nodded.
“Paul, are you going to give that boy special treatment?”
Judge Fisherman stared at William.
“Will, I don't tell you how to do your job, and I don't need you telling me how to do mine.” He turned back to me when I caught his attention. “Go ahead.”
“I'd like to request that the DNA evidence be removed from the record. It's compromised and could mislead the jury.”
“Don't exaggerate,” the judge dismissed.
“And I'd like to add a witness.” Will had a glint in his eyes that worried me. “Pietra Coleman.”
“What? She wasn't even in the city.”
“Who is this?” the judge asked.
“She's Dante's ex-girlfriend, Your Honor,” I explained. “Someone my client no longer has any relationship with.”
“But she spoke with him two days after the murder. She can speak to his general temperament.”
If looks could kill, Quinn would have dropped dead on the spot.
“I'll allow it… but let's keep it limited to the phone call.”
“This is insane.”
“What's insane is having to deal with this so close to my retirement,” he grumbled.
“Your Honor… speaking of which, I'd like to request that the charges be separated.”
“What?”
“I'd like the fraud charge to be tried separately, since it's a different type of offense from the Quentin Darwin case.”
“You're out of your depth, Helena.” Will was indignant. “The boy lied when the police approached him.”
“That's your version of the humiliating situation my client was subjected to during the stop.” I handed over a copy of the incident report written by the arresting officer. “As you can see, the officer took care to detail the circumstances of the stop and how nervous my client was.”
“I'll grant it and order the charges separated.”
“Your Honor!”
“I've made my decision, counselor.” He looked at us both. “If we're finished here, I have an appointment to get to.”
The judge stood, and we followed suit.
“See you in forty-eight hours.” He waited for us to leave.
In the hallway, Will couldn't resist needling me.
“If you think I've shown you everything I have, you're mistaken.”
“Unless you're hiding evidence under your mattress—which would clearly be unethical—all you've got is speculation.” I turned to leave, but Will grabbed my arm.
“You won't stand a chance in there,” he growled.
“Good thing I know how to swim,” I replied, pulling free.