All Work, Let's Play, page 9
As usual, when I come down, they’re both waiting for me in the foyer, Caleb with a travel mug of coffee in his hand for me. “Good morning, Gage. Sleep well?” he ask, handing me a coffee.
Any other time, I’d think he was being snarky. But today, he genuinely looks like he wants an answer. “I slept okay. I’m not hungover, if that’s what you’re asking.
He throws his head back and laughs. A deep laugh that I’ve never heard, but immediately like. The rich baritone flows over me, making me feel…things. My skin flushes and I look down at my feet, feeling awkward for some unknown reason. “I’m not asking if you’re hungover, Gage. I was wondering how you slept. That’s it.”
I nod, not knowing what to say. I peer over at Max and he gives me a smile. A full, wide smile that makes his entire face light up. I stare at him, a little open-mouthed. “What?” I ask when I’m finally able to get my breathing and heart rate under control.
He shakes his head. “I didn’t say anything. You ready?”
“Yes.” I pat my bag and raise my coffee, letting him know I have everything I need. From there, we make our way outside to get into the limo.
The ride to the courthouse is quiet and weird. Both Caleb and Max keep glancing at me with small smiles on their faces. I’m tempted to ask if I have something on my face, but I leave it, trying to go over the research I did on the medical examiner and if I gave them everything they need for their questioning. I feel like I’ve forgotten something, but I can’t figure out what it is. I’m usually really good at keeping track of my research, but something is needling the back of my mind. Like I didn’t prepare something or give them something they need. But that’s impossible. They should have everything.
I’m biting my lip, deep in thought, when Caleb calls my name. “Hmm?” I look at him to find him staring.
“What’s the matter?”
I shake my head, not really knowing. Max reaches across the seat and pulls on my chin softly, popping my lip from my teeth, causing me to hiss slightly. He jerks his hand back, like he can’t believe he touched me either.
“Sorry. You were worrying your lip.” His cheeks turn a slight shade of red and he looks out of the window. I gape at him and Caleb laughs.
After I gather myself, I go back to answer Caleb. “I’m not sure. Something is missing. I’m forgetting something, but I don’t know what it is. And this is the worst time for that to happen.”
Max sits forward. “Is it about the case?”
I hate the uncertain look on his face. Like I could ruin this case. And if I don’t remember what it is, I very well could. I answer him honestly. “I think so. But I can’t tell for sure because I can’t remember what it is.” I plead with him with my eyes to understand that I’m not trying to fuck up here; I really don’t know what’s nagging me.
“Let’s focus on what we have right now. It’s too late to try to figure anything out right now,” Caleb informs us as we pull up to the courthouse. “Hopefully the research you’ve done for us so far is enough. One way or another,” he pauses to take a deep breath, “this case will end soon. Let’s hope it’s in our favor.”
I agree with him, but I continue to think about what it could be that I’m not remembering.
Today, it’s Max’s turn to cross-examine the witness. Mostly Caleb has been at the helm, so I’m curious about how Max will do. He’s at the table, rubbing his hand repeatedly over his tie. Fuck, he’s nervous. Probably because I told him I was forgetting something. I hate that I’ve made him uncertain. I don’t know what to do to make it better. I try for conversation to take his mind off it. I’m still not sure if he even likes me, even with the smile he gave me earlier, but I’ll do what I can to ease his stress. For the sake of the case, of course.
“Max,” I call to him. He looks at me and I wave him over. He walks over with a questioning look. “What was on the note?”
He cocks a brow. “Note?”
“From yesterday. You passed it to Caleb.”
He smiles slowly at me and then snickers. He leans closer to me and whispers, “Juror number three has a bad toupee. I’ve been staring at it since the trial started.”
I sneak a glance at the jurors’ box, spotting the man he’s talking about. It takes everything in me not to burst out laughing. It really is bad. It looks dusty, like he had it hidden under boxes in his attic and couldn’t shake all the cobwebs off before he had jury duty. I think it’s supposed to be black but it has a gray tint to it that looks pitiful.
I look back at Max and see he has a slight twinkle in his eyes and I think he’s better now. I think I made Max feel better. That makes me feel a little warm, but also confused. I don’t dwell too much on it and he walks back to the table with Mr. Dunbar and Caleb.
Mr. Wolfe leads the medical examiner through a series of questions that have him saying that there was no way Mr. Dunbar acted in self-defense. Almost like the ballistics expert, but the medical examiner is a lot more convincing.
“The autopsy shows that both men were shot directly in the heart. With the way the entry and exit wounds were, it’s my medical opinion that these men were not in any defensive position or trying to attack.” His smug expression shows me that not many people question his opinions.
“So,” Mr. Wolfe says, looking at the jury. “What you’re saying is the men were unaware they were going to be shot and murdered?”
“Objection, Your Honor. Leading the witness,” Max says in a deep, commanding voice, sending shivers down my spine.
The judge nods and says, “Sustained. Mr. Wolfe, stick to the facts.”
“Yes, Your Honor. Let me rephrase.” He shoves his hands into his suit pockets and faces the medical examiner. “The men that lost their lives didn’t know it was coming?”
“From my medical standpoint, they did not.”
“No further questions.” Mr. Wolfe straightens his wrinkled suit and makes his way back to his table, looking like everything went according to his plan. I want to sneer at him, but I hold it back.
Max stands up and puts a hand in his pocket. His posture is relaxed, like he tries cases like this all the time. My face flushes and I feel hot all over. The confidence he’s exuding is beyond sexy. I feel my dick start to thicken and I shake my head, trying to banish my line of thinking. Now was not the time or place to be thinking about Max turning me on or why Max is turning me on. I’ve never thought about men in a sexual manner, so why, of all people, was Max the one that gives me half an erection in a crowded courtroom?
“Mr. Trayner, you said that there were entry and exit wounds?” Max begins, walking slowly to the witness stand.
“That’s correct,” the medical examiner, Mr. Trayner, answers.
“From the reports we have, there was only one exit wound and that was on Michael. Where were the others?”
Mr. Trayner sits higher in his chair, a smirk on his face. “If you had reviewed the updated medical report I submitted two days ago, you would see that I highlighted an exit wound on Tyree that we mistook for an old scar. It was small enough that it was able to mislead me. But I found it.”
No one else would have seen it, but I saw the brief flash of panic in Max’s eyes. I feel the same way. I looked at the report over and over and didn’t see what he was talking about. I pulled the report from my messenger bag and see that it’s three days old. Shit. Mine is outdated.
Max tries to collect his train of thought, some of the confidence leaving him. I want to kick myself for putting him in this situation. Caleb looks over at me and I can see the anxiousness in his eyes. I fucked up. I’ve never fucked up this bad and it can cost a man his freedom. I look away from him and peer through my bag, trying to find something, anything to fix it.
“Can you say for certain that this wasn’t self-defense?” I hear the uncertainty in Max’s question and I hate it.
Mr. Trayner nods. “I can. Neither of the victims would have been close enough to defend themselves from his bullets, from the autopsy that I completed.”
When he says that, an alarm rings in my head. I pull out the autopsy report and see something that makes my breathing come out faster and my heart speeds up. When Max walks back over to the table, I wave him over. “A moment with my researcher, Your Honor.” The judge inclines his head.
“What is it?” Max asks me, looking desperate. But I’m smiling. I hand him the pictures I have and the original report. He looks over them and beams at me. I give him back the same smile. He nods at Caleb and Caleb inclines his head in return, trusting him to handle the questioning.
“Sir, you said neither victim was close enough to defend themselves, correct?”
The medical examiner narrows his eyes, but answers in the affirmative.
In a loud voice, Max says, “The defense would like to enter into evidence, photographs taken of Mr. Dunbar’s hands with fresh scratch marks, taken by the county’s sheriff’s department. Also, the original report, done by you, Mr. Trayner, highlighting the presence of skin under Mr. Tyree’s nails. Tell me, sir, whose skin was under his nails?”
Mr. Trayner purses his lips but doesn’t answer. Max walks closer to him, leaning on the witness stand. “Need I remind you, you are under oath. Answer the question. Whose skin was under his nails?”
The medical examiner’s face turns red, but he answers. “Mr. Dunbar’s.”
“So when you said neither of the victims was close enough to defend themselves, that was a lie? Those were defensive wounds on Mr. Dunbar’s hands, correct?”
Max isn’t giving him time to answer. Just keeps hammering away at him. “Mr. Tyree tried to take the gun and ended up scratching Mr. Dunbar, which is the only plausible explanation for the defensive wounds, correct?”
Mr. Trayner’s answer is quiet. “Correct.”
“Can you tell me what is correct, sir? That you lied under oath, there were defensive wounds or that the only plausible explanation is he acted in self-defense?”
“All of it,” he grits out.
Max walks back to the table and grabs a piece of paper sitting at the edge. “You said that the angle of the bullets means that neither men would be advancing towards Mr. Dunbar. From our research, it shows that the force of the bullet was compounded because of excessive forward momentum. Is that correct?”
Before he can answer, Max places the piece of paper in front of Mr. Trayner. “Is that your handwriting, sir?”
The medical examiner looks at the paper and his face turns pale.
“Mr. Trayner, is that your handwriting?” Max asks again. Mr. Trayer answers in the affirmative but looks like it hurts him to do so. “Please tell the court what it says?”
“It says ‘Momentum from gunshot may have changed trajectory of bullet,” Mr. Trayner spits the sentence out through almost clenched teeth.
“Does this mean, that because Michael was bounding toward him, his strides could have been the reason he was shot in the heart, not because Mr. Dunbar was trying to kill him?” Max wraps up, a stern expression trained on the medical examiner.
“It’s possible,” Mr. Trayner says reluctantly.
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
Max walks back to the table and just as Caleb did, sends a wink my way. Butterflies flutter in my stomach and I have to drop my head to hide my blush.
“Mr. Wolfe,” the judge says. “Next witness.”
Mr. Wolfs stands up, hands looking shaky. “The prosecution rests.”
The judge’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. He looks over to our side. “Defense?”
Caleb stands and says, “Defense rests, Your Honor. We request to move to closing arguments.”
“Request granted. After a brief recess, we’ll move to close.” He bangs the gavel and we stand as he leaves. Before I can do anything, I’m enveloped in more than one set of arms. Sandra and by extension, Tyler, Caleb and Max all wrap their arms around me. I stand stock still, not knowing what’s going on here.
Caleb pulls back first. “That was brilliant, Gage. How did you remember the photos?”
I shrug, a bit overwhelmed. “I knew I was forgetting something and it was that. I just got them yesterday and I forgot them after…well, they were there.” I forgot them because I started drinking after spilling my guts to Tyler and Sandra. Caleb nods in understanding.
“Come on,” Max says. “Let’s get some lunch.”
They walk ahead, but I turn to Tyler and Sandra. I get down on my haunches, getting eye to eye with the little boy. “You don’t have to tell all these people what those terrible men did to you now. But I know you would have been brave for your Dad. Good job, big man.” I hold out my hand and he slaps it.
“I would have told them for my Dad. It would have been scary, but I would have done it. So he can come home.”
I pat his shoulder and stand back up. Sandra gives me another hug. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for my family. You’re a good man, Gage.”
I kiss her cheek and take her hand. We leave the courtroom together, catching up with Max and Caleb.
After Caleb and Mr. Wolfe give their closing arguments, the judge dismisses the jury and we wait. And wait. And wait some more. I almost think that the judge will dismiss the jury for the day, but after three hours, the jury comes back, telling him they have a verdict. I swallow roughly and feel my heart rate speed up. The foreman hands a slip of paper to the bailiff, who in turn, hands it to the judge. The judge reads it and nods, handing the paper back to the bailiff who gives it back to the foreman.
“Is this your verdict?” the judge asks the foreman and the jury at large.
“It is,” the foreman answers evenly, giving nothing away.
“Will the defense rise?”
Caleb, Max and Mr. Dunbar stand, Caleb holding Mr. Dunbar’s hand and Max with a hand resting on Mr. Dunbar’s shoulder. Everyone in the courtroom is holding their breaths and cameras are flashing, catching everything for the morning newspapers and blogs. Tyler is holding my hand so tight, it’s going numb, but I don’t complain. I pull Sandra closer to me, holding her close for my sake and hers.
“For the charge of two counts of first-degree murder, how do you find the defendant?”
The foreman looks down at the slip of paper in his hands and says in a booming voice, “We find the defendant, Mr. Marcel Dunbar, not guilty of first-degree murder.”
The courtroom is an explosion of noise. The relief I feel is immense. Sandra starts to cry and Tyler crawls into her lap, burying his head into her neck. Mr. Dunbar drops his head on the table and openly weeps as Caleb rubs his back. Max looks over at me and gives me the biggest smile I’ve ever seen from him. I have no time to think it’s weird, because I’m just as happy as he is. I give him a grin back, feeling like my cheeks will split.
The judge calls the courtroom to order. “By my authority granted by the Commonwealth of Virginia, Mr. Dunbar, you are free to go.”
Mr. Dunbar immediately turns around and grabs his family into his arms. They stay that way for some time, long after everyone files out of the courtroom. Caleb, Max and I stay, keeping them company, basking in the positive outcome of the case. Besides the win, seeing the weasel-faced lawyer defeated was my favorite part.
After Mr. Dunbar separates himself from his family, he gives Caleb a long hug. “Thank you so much, man. You don’t know what this means to me.”
“I do, man. And you’re welcome. I’m glad I could help.”
He turns to give Max a hug and then I’m next. He shudders in my arms. “I know all you did to make sure they were prepared. Thank you for saving my life.”
I swallow thickly and pat his back. “You’re welcome, Mr. Dunbar.”
“Marcel, please. Call me Marcel.”
I nod and watch him escort his family from the courtroom, holding Tyler in his arms. Tyler has his arms wrapped around his neck securely but let’s go to give me a wave. I wave back and smile at him, glad he has his dad back.
Caleb throws an arm around my shoulder and I allow it, not thinking it’s weird because I’m still riding the high of our win. “Let’s go home and get drunk. We can take off for another week. Might as well drink up.”
I wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment and we head to the limo, ready to take these suits off and relax for a week after one of the most stressful trials of my life.
Chapter Eleven
Knowing that the trial is over feels good. Knowing that I was part of the reason that Mr. Dunbar, Marcel, is home with his family feels good. Being able to have a drink without worrying that I’ll wake up late for court feels good.
We get back to the mansion in the early evening and find that Jeanie has laid out a spread for us. News has already broken that Marcel was found not guilty, so I guess she decided to prepare us a celebratory feast. And I couldn’t be happier. Everything looks delicious. We all load our plates and they decide to sit in the dining room with me to eat.
“You always sit in here to eat. Why?” Caleb asks. I knew he wouldn’t miss that I’ve always sat in here. Any other time, I wouldn’t answer. But they’ve already heard some of my past. Might as well delve into more.
I swallow what’s in my mouth and push the food on my plate around, trying to buy myself some time. Taking a deep breath, I wipe my mouth with my napkin and look at him. “Back before I was adopted, …” I trail off. God, I hate talking about this. “Back when I was in one of my homes, we were forced to stay in our rooms pretty much all day. It was five of us in one room. We got two meals shoved into the room and two bathroom breaks every day. But the adults wouldn’t let us leave the room.” I look away from him, not able to maintain eye contact anymore. My throat feels dry and it’s hard for me to keep talking past the lump in my throat.
I hate dredging up my past. I tell no one. I told Candice, but it took me years to tell her everything. It’s so dark and it’s so triggering. If I tried hard enough, everything could remind me of that time. I’ve pushed to the back of my mind why I eat in the kitchen. I just do because I want food to stay where it belongs. It doesn’t belong in a room, where mice and roaches can converge, crawling over you as you sleep. The constant squeaks of the mice keeping you up at night. The smell of the mice when they died tangled in your clothes. I clear my head but keep my eyes on my plate.
