Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“You spent an awful lot of time with him. Anyone would understand if you developed feelings. Especially since your talks were so intimate.”
“My interviews were standard discussions that any forensic psychologist would complete.” I try to keep myself composed, try to stop the bead of sweat from running down my back, but I feel like a bug under a microscope, seconds away from being flattened by Thomas Vale’s murderous hand.
“And yet you have a sexual partner who reenacts murderous scenes with you.”
“They’re hardly murderous when I am in fact sitting here alive, Mr. Samuels. I am a professional, as is the person who sent that message—”
“But you do fantasize about being hunted, tortured, assaulted. Your search history on the third page there shows a number of searches after you met my client. Some of which include: stalker play, knife play, and mask play.”
“Play is the operative wor—”
“No further questions, Your Honor,” he says, cutting me off.
I’m furious. My heart is thumping against my chest as if it’s trying to break free. I’m holding everything inside, but I’m like boiling water in a pan; a few more seconds and it’s going to spill over, scalding everything in its vicinity.
“Your witness, Miss Halliday.” He grins, sitting down, the pinnacle of relaxation next to a smug Thomas Vale.
She steps out of her chair, the click of her heels against the linoleum floor of the courthouse.
She’s the pinnacle of feminine energy. A light pink pantsuit with a satin ivory blouse.
She’s done her makeup in a way that suits her and is a little heavier than I’ve seen other lawyers for whom I’ve acted as a witness.
I like that she has the confidence not to conform by dulling herself down for the courtroom.
She’s exactly who she wants to be, even if she’s a little unorthodox.
“Dr. Katherine Murphy, but most people, including myself, call you Katie, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, my friends call me Katie.” I smile.
“Those were some powerful, private messages. Good for you.” She chuckles, and a few of the jury members laugh too.
“Your boyfriend?”
I smile. “We’re friends . . . um . . . it’s complicated.”
“Ah, I see. Well, don’t worry, we won’t ask you to publicly define your relationship. It won’t be on the record, Dr. Murphy.”
“I appreciate that.” I laugh again, and I can visibly see a few of the jury members chuckle.
“And now, can I ask you, woman to woman, is the person who wrote those messages in the courtroom?” Her even tone puts me at ease a little.
“Yes, he came to support me today.”
She nods. “And why would you need support today?”
“Your Honor, relevance?” Mr. Samuels interrupts.
“Your Honor, given that the defense bamboozled my witness this morning, I think they can give me a little grace period to make my point.”
“Overruled. Carry on, Miss Halliday.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” She nods, turning her attention back to me. “As I was saying, what was the reason you needed support today?”
“I worked the Thomas Vale, or The Poser, case for nearly a year. I interviewed Thomas Vale for many hours, and it was grueling. I knew what he had done, the evidence was overwhelming, but he scared me. Everything about him was utterly terrifying.”
“It’s a lot to take on. I’m sure you have a very stressful job.” She puts her hands on the wooden witness stand right in front of me. Her face softened, sincere. Despite being unprepared for this, she’s calm, warm, comforting. She was made for this role.
“It can be, but I like to make our city safer.”
“And the man who sent you those messages, the jury is probably thinking, well, isn’t he a threat?”
I shake my head. As if anyone who had met Jonesy could ever think that about him. He’s a protector, a nurturer. He’s cared for me in ways I didn’t even know were possible until a few weeks ago. “No, he’d never hurt anyone. He was helping me.”
“Can you help the jury understand what you mean by that? I’m sure you have a professional reason for wanting those kinds of things in the bedroom.”
“It’s always difficult to analyze your own behavior.
But I think I wanted to change the narrative.
I’d worked on a case that ended in torture, murder, and fear.
With this other person, it had fear, but it ended with him holding me and telling me how much he liked me.
It ended with us cuddling and him making sure I was okay, and holding me whilst I slept.
Having sex with a pre-determined agreement of sexual acts that include aggression or fake-forced acts can be part of a healthy sex life.
” I swallow down the embarrassment because I know there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.
Sure, I don’t exactly want the whole world to know what I’m doing in the bedroom, but since exploring this part of me with Jonesy, I’m comfortable with what I want.
“But the point is that Thomas Vale did not get consent from the women he murdered. They did not ask to be raped. They did not ask to be strangled by him. My own sex life is safe and consensual with someone I have known for over fifteen years and trust with my life. He would never ever put me in a position where I feel like I am in actual danger.”
“How did your relationship change with this man?” Miss Halliday steps back, allowing the jury to see me fully, allowing them to be part of the conversation.
“We started working together. We usually only saw each other at our monthly dinner club with our university friends, but we’ve been spending more time together alone. It changed things.”
“And you expressed that you had certain sexual desires.”
I lift my chin and will my cheeks not to turn red. “Yes.”
“Why did you express that to him in particular?” Her head tilts.
I take a deep breath, pausing as I blink a few times to fight back the tears welling in my eyes. I don’t know why I’m getting so upset, which only frustrates me more.
I swallow, glancing at the jury. “Because I trust him.”
“You trust him,” she repeats. “To take you to the limit of what you’ve asked and not a step further?”
“Exactly. I trust him to stop if I ask him to.”
“Great, and if we can refer back to the last message you read out for the defense. Can you read it out one more time?”
“Umm, yes.” I clear my throat before continuing.
“I’ve been watching you. I know how you touch yourself at night.
I know that pink vibrator that you use to get yourself off.
I’m going to fuck you with that vibrator until you beg me to stop.
I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk for a week.
I’ll carve my name into your skin so everyone knows you’re mine. ”
“To some of us, more vanilla in the courtroom, I can understand how that might be a little jarring. And this is on a burner phone, I understand?”
“Yes.” I cough. “He wanted to provide the full experience.”
She smiles, and I glance at Jonesy, who has gone bright red.
“Well, let me know if he has a brother.”
I grin, and she goes to turn back to her seat before swiftly turning back around in dramatic fashion.
“One more thing, and I’ll let you go, Dr. Murphy. Can you read out your most recent message from the gentleman in question from his real phone number?”
“Oh, yes, hang on.” I pull my phone out and pull up Jonesy’s contact. “Hi princess, you ran out of coffee, so I’ve ordered some for you. See you at dinner club. Get ready for me to kick your ass at charades. Don’t forget the wine. JJ. xo.”
I glance at Jonesy, looking so hot in his suit pants and a white button-down.
He’s not wearing a tie; his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, a button below decent undone.
It’s so unlike him, given that his army uniform is so neatly pressed, edges so sharp they could cut.
But he’s here with me today, and despite blushing at the previous remarks, he’s relaxed.
It’s helping me relax too. With his eyes fixed on mine, his lips crook to the side in an almost boyish smirk as he shrugs.
And in a completely un-Jonesy-like fashion, he mouths, I love you.
That asshole.
He knew I wouldn’t be able to stop him from saying it when I’m stuck in the witness box.
Goddamn him.
His teeth flash into an all-out grin that spreads across his face.
I fight the urge to return the smile, which at a serial murder charge appeal probably wouldn’t look great to a jury, but Jacob freaking Jones loves me, so they can go ahead and get over it for all I care.
After all these years of fighting and arguing and wanting to tackle him every time he opens his goddamn mouth, now all I want is for him to say it again.
Whisper it in my ear, yell it so everyone can hear.
Scream it so loud it has to go on the record so it’s forever on the court transcript.
Before I can even think to respond, the judge brings me back to the present.
“You’re free to go, Dr. Murphy.”