Chapter Forty-Two
Liv
Hayes locks me into my office without another glance, letting my nerves for today rise to the surface. I have a strong case, I know that, but I also have a lot of friends who are going to be personally affected by the verdict.
Including me.
I haven’t told Hayes, but I was offered a new contract for the prosecutor position if this trial goes well. That means my life here will officially be permanent.
We’re finally figuring things out, and so many life changes have happened within a matter of weeks that I’m fighting the feeling that I’m going to fuck it all up.
Breath escapes me roughly, and I rub my palms across my blazer to dry the dampness before shoving all my papers into my briefcase.
People are counting on me, and I have a job to do. My personal life does not belong here right now.
My job status and my stalker are not my priority.
It’s getting justice for everyone impacted by Jeremiah Porter.
Curtis. Lochlan. Jo.
A light knock on my door, and Hayes appears. “Ready?”
My breathing comes easier just having him near me, but he doesn’t return my familiarity when I smile at him. He keeps his eyes averted and stays three steps behind me as we exit my office.
He normally keeps a professional distance when we’re in the building, but when everything feels so unsteady, I want him right beside me.
I stop short before walking into the courtroom, and he nearly runs into my back. People are milling about, and more than a few eyes are on us as I turn to look at him, but I only see him.
I thread my fingers through his, searching his eyes for what I need. His brows furrow in confusion, but then a sly smile quirks the corner of his mouth, and his fingers squeeze mine.
He leans down to whisper in my ear. “No time for a quickie, baby girl. You’ve got a job to do.”
A laugh escapes me, needing that bit of unseriousness when it feels like the weight of the world is on my shoulders.
He told me he’d be whatever I needed him to be, but I just need him.
Exactly as he is.
This time, when I turn to walk through the doors, it happens with ease, and I’m feeling a little stronger. I can do this.
“Is everything prepared, Miley?” I ask her as I approach the prosecutor’s table.
She’s pacing back and forth, fidgeting with her fingers. “Yes, ma’am. The projector is cued up,” her voice wobbles.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry about whatever trouble my boyfriend caused. I mean, ex-boyfriend now. I had no idea he was lying about who he was.”
“It’s okay, Miley, you couldn’t have known.”
“I just feel so stupid. I haven’t been able to stop crying. I let him… I let him touch me,” she whispers, on the verge of tears.
“You’re young. Boys suck. Don’t beat yourself up.” I really don’t have time for this pep talk. I need to focus on the trial, but Miley is falling apart, and I need her assistance to present all the evidence smoothly.
“I’m sorry, Miss Greenwood. I can’t do this. I need a break.” She turns and flees out of the room before I can try to stop her, leaving me dumbfounded.
“What was that?” Hayes asks from the other side of the bar.
“She took off.”
“Is she coming back?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I admit in disbelief.
“What do you need?”
“I need someone to run the projector, hit my cues when I’m presenting evidence to the jury.”
“Do you want me to see if someone else in the office is available?”
“No.” I look at him closely. “No, I need you to do it.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know this case inside and out. You know what’s on these slides already. All you have to do is sit next to me and pay attention to my talking points.”
“I’m not meant to be on that side of the bar, Liv.”
“I need you.”
His conflicted eyes search mine before he relents. “Okay.”
“Thank you.” I look at him tenderly as he settles in his seat, fixing his already perfect collar and suit jacket.
His hand squeezes my knee subtly under the table as Judge Fulton enters, and just like that, the trial begins.
Jeremiah’s defense attorney does his job and comes out of the gate swinging, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.
Sometime after hour three, though, a blister starts forming on the back of my heel, and it’s all I can think about.
After hour four, the grumbling in my stomach is so loud that I have to fake a cough to hide it. I was so distracted by everything this morning that I forgot to eat. It’s a rookie mistake.
“I want to call Vanessa Porter to the stand, your honor. My last character witness,” the defense attorney states.
I sigh internally. This is the fifth character witness, and I’m struggling not to show my annoyance.
Jeremiah’s mother takes the stand, and they start droning on about how sweet Jeremiah was as a child and how easily he was influenced as a boy.
As if him being meek as a kid changes the fact that he nearly murdered Curtis. It doesn’t.
A wave of dizziness hits me, and I have to blink through it. I really need to eat, but I’d never halt the trial for that.
A hand knocks against my thigh, and I glance down at a piece of gum resting there. I shouldn’t take it. It’s not professional to chew gum during legal proceedings. But neither is passing out.
The cinnamon gum burns my tongue as I slide it into my mouth without drawing attention to myself. He swoops the wrapper from me without prompting, and I focus on quietly letting the tingling flavor boost my focus.
“Miss Greenwood, do you have any questions for Ms. Porter?” Judge Fulton asks.
“Yes, your honor.” I stand, subtly depositing the chewed gum into Jensen’s hand as I round the table. He doesn’t flinch as he hides it away under the table.
“Ms. Porter. You said that Jeremiah was a kind boy. He loved his big brother, but you worried about him hanging with the wrong crowd.”
“Yes,” she replies, stiffly, looking at me with utter disdain.
“Did you ever consider that he was the bad crowd?”
“No, not my boy.”
“Right. And, I’m sure your other son, Randall, would never have committed fraud or conspired to a kidnapping… But he did.”
“Now you listen–” She starts, but I cut her off.
“And you never would have believed your husband and brothers, all now deceased, would have been involved in human trafficking… But they were.”
“That has nothing to do with my boys!” She yells, and Judge Fulton clears his throat in warning.
“Right. They were innocent…” I say sarcastically. “Your entire family simply got mixed up with a bad crowd. Your father thought he was above the law, too. Right? And he’s now deceased. Correct?”
She locks her jaw but doesn’t speak.
“That’s okay. I have the police report here.” Jensen clicks the remote, displaying what I need on the screen.
“Reverend Jefferson Porter confessed to his crimes of drug trafficking, human trafficking, and kidnapping before he pulled a weapon on Sheriff Malec. Suicide by cop.”
“You’re a rotten little bitch,” she sneers, and I only smile smugly in response as Judge Fulton knocks his gavel, reprimanding her language.
“No further questions, your honor.” By the time I make it to my seat, my knees are nearly gelatinous.
“We need a recess, but the prosecution hasn’t had a chance to call any witnesses yet today. Do you want to proceed, Miss Greenwood?” Judge Fulton asks, and even though everything in me is begging for a break, I need to get the final word in before the jury breaks for a late lunch.
Then I’ll hammer them right away when we get back, too.
“If you don’t mind, Judge Fulton. I’d like to call my first witness, Sheriff Malec. It will be short and sweet.”
“Proceed.”
Malec comes to the front of the room and takes his oath, as I prepare my questions, breathing through my lightheadedness.
“Sheriff Malec, can you tell me about the night of the arson at Second Chance Sanctuary?”
“The barn on the far side of the property was torched after being doused with lighter fluid. That resulted in a large outpouring of response as everyone either searched for Mr. Dane’s missing niece or worked to put out the fire.”
“Was his niece found?”
“Yes, luckily, she was fine. It was a distraction technique to take attention away from the other side of the property where Jeremiah was able to kidnap JoAnna Montgomery and then attack Curtis.”
“What else?”
“Jeremiah used the same means of arson to start a fire in the wooded area surrounding the bear enclosures.”
“Lighter fluid and a lighter?”
“Correct.”
“Not easy to track. Pretty easy to find at any store… What made you suspect this wasn’t the first time Jeremiah was involved in arson?”
“Jeremiah was a trained volunteer firefighter, though his certifications had all expired. He also admitted to carrying out the dirty work for his family members. An apartment here in Lawson was set on fire two years ago. Fire Marshall Max Robbins suspected an accelerant such as lighter fluid was used.”
“Why would Jeremiah be a suspect?”
“The victims of the fire were targeted by a man that Jeremiah’s grandfather was working with.”
“You believe that Jefferson Porter commissioned his grandson, Jeremiah Porter, to commit arson?”
“Yes.”
“Objection. Speculation.” The defense attorney pipes in.
I nod to Judge Fulton. “That’s all I have, your honor.”