CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Arguments
It's absolute chaos out front. Who just arrived??(@deisebloombastic)
(@deisebloombastic)
The scent of lust still clung to my nostrils. The contrast between the heat still pulsing through me and the cold of the courtroom lent an almost comical air to the scene as I emerged from the bathroom, my hair pulled back in a ponytail to deal with the mess our encounter had caused.
The sound of my heels against the floor as I walked with authority—no margin for error, no escape route planned. I touched my neck to make sure the piece was in the right place, or maybe to convince myself that my head was in the right place too.
As soon as Célie saw me, she shot me a knowing look without saying a word, good or bad. Quinn was already on his feet waiting for me, his arsenal organized on the table, ready for the counterattack, and I knew we were close to exchanging our final blows.
Will was a good fighter, and so was I, which guaranteed a solid session of arguments, passive-aggressive posturing, and elaborate metaphors ahead.
“I hope you enjoyed the recess, Dr. Torres,” he said in a low voice as I passed him.
“I hope you enjoyed your last chance to look like you're in control, prosecutor,” I replied without smiling, though my soul was laughing out loud.
Dante took his place beside me, austere, as if minutes before he hadn't been completely inside me, whispering the dirtiest words this courtroom has ever witnessed into my ear.
I stared at him in silence and smiled when I noticed his eyes drop from mine to my neck. His lips curved into a half-smile and he adjusted his posture.
“This looks even better in a context like this,” he whispered so no one else could hear.
“I thought the contrast with the red brings out the color of my eyes.” Our gazes met in shared understanding, and I knew I was ready to fight to my last breath for us.
The judge returned, the jury too. Everyone settling back in as if we hadn't just dropped a bomb in the middle of the room before the recess.
“Can we proceed?” Fisherman huffed, visibly older than he'd been that morning.
“The prosecution wishes to call the next witness,” Quinn said, trying to sound confident. “Detective Hesse.”
A murmur ran through the room.
And I remained unshaken. I had anticipated these moves. I had sought this out.
The detective took his place and Quinn quickly advanced.
“Detective, you worked the case from the beginning, correct?”
“Correct.”
“What was the defendant's demeanor when you apprehended him?”
“He seemed calm. We approached him at the hotel and he didn't resist or dispute the accusations.”
“Would you say he acted coldly?”
“Your Honor, the prosecutor is creating his own narrative,” I intervened.
Fisherman agreed but still allowed the detective to answer.
“As I said, he seemed too calm.”
“And what did he say when you questioned him about using a false name?”
“This matter will be heard in a separate proceeding, Your Honor,” I intervened again.
“Quinn, stick to what we're discussing here today.”
“Okay.” Quinn adjusted his suit. “Let's move forward to when you were interrogating him at the precinct. At any point during the interrogation, did the defendant, Dante Marino, seem surprised by the accusations?”
“No. He remained silent throughout the process. Or almost.”
“Almost? When did he change?”
“When the doctor intervened.”
“The doctor? Are you referring to Helena Torres?” Quinn looked at me.
“Yes. The suspect asked for a lawyer, and suddenly the doctor walked into the room without prior notice and introduced herself as his attorney.”
“But she wasn't, was she?”
“Until that moment, we believed she was.”
“And what changed?”
“His parents showed up with another lawyer and the doctor disappeared.”
“While the doctor and the defendant were together, did you notice any change in his behavior?”
“Your Honor, speculation.”
“Where are you going with this, Will?”
“I'm building an argument, Your Honor.”
“Don't go too far.” Fisherman once again favored him.
“Detective, in your years of experience, have you ever seen this kind of public commotion surrounding a defendant like Dante Marino?”
“Never.”
“Do you believe Dante Marino is innocent?”
“I believe the evidence doesn't clear him.”
“You're also working on the Hugo Petrov case, correct?”
“Yes.”
“That case has similarities to this one, doesn't it?”
“Yes.”
Quinn stared at me, waiting for me to speak up, but I let him continue. This threw him off a bit, making him hesitate.
“The prosecution… rests.”
I smiled, standing up to face the jury and then the detective.
“Detective Hesse… you said the suspect asked for a lawyer and I 'appeared,' correct?”
“That's right.”
“How many times did he ask?”
“What do you mean?” Hesse shifted in his chair.
“I'd like you to tell the jury how many times my client, Dante Marino, had to ask for a lawyer before I magically appeared in the room. You know what, don't bother answering—it was nineteen times.” I walked to my table and picked up a report.
“Exhibit eighty-three.” I pointed to the screen where a photo appeared. Dante on the day of his arrest, barefoot and wearing nothing but a thin jacket. “That night it was ten below, yet my client was denied even basic human decency by the police.”
I changed the screen.
“Exhibit eighty-one. This is footage of my client's arrest, captured by the hotel security cameras. A dozen officers surrounded him and treated him like a threat, even though my client was unarmed and offered no resistance, as you yourself stated.”
“We were just ensuring the safety of the guests.”
“Or what about the photo in the Christmas edition of Heritage News?” I countered. “You don't need to answer that, Detective.”
I turned to Quinn.
“The prosecutor said you're on the Hugo Petrov case. Is it related to this one?”
“Not directly.”
“But you said there were similarities.”
“Yes. Some.”
“Do you believe both crimes were committed by the same perpetrator?”
“We haven't ruled out that possibility.”
I changed the screen for the last time.
“Exhibit one-fifty-eight. My client's bank transaction records. Exhibit one-fifty-nine, the digital security system records from the Marino property at North Lake.”
I turned to the jury.
“My client was at the lake house while the alleged crime was taking place.”
“Your Honor, we're not trying the Petrov case.”
“Deal with the problem you created yourself, Quinn.” Fisherman cut me some slack. “Miss, wrap it up with the witness.”
“Right. Detective Hesse… in all your years of experience, have you ever seen a man in two places at the same time?”
“What? No.”
“Thank you.”
I walked confidently back to my seat. Joe stood up and left the room. We were entering the final act of this case, and now it was all or nothing.
“The prosecution calls Dante Marino.”
I felt my body go cold. I hadn't expected Quinn to call Dante, at least not now. Given Dante's charming nature and popular appeal, putting him on the stand could backfire on Quinn.
But he was determined to win, and I should have seen this coming.
Dante held my hand under the table. It was cold. Not his, but mine.
“Do what you need to do.” His eyes searched mine, and in that moment it didn't matter if anyone could see us. I just needed to get my head on straight and brace for impact.