Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Why is that?” Judge Flanders asks as the prosecuting attorney hands her a stack of papers.
The prosecutor steps back behind her table, her spine straight and her posture about perfect. “We just filed these with the court, Your Honor. We believe Miss Mooncrest is having an affair with her client, and we need to question her regarding this case. The letter opener is owned by her, and she could put Mr. Sokolov in the same room with it, but we need her as a witness. Attorney-client privilege does not extend to illegal acts.”
I stare down at the documents, which swim in front of my face.
The judge drops the stack to her desk. “Miss Mooncrest? It would be inappropriate for me to decide this on an ad hoc basis like this. Please prepare a response, and we’ll have a hearing—” she shuffles through a calendar—“a week from today at nine in the morning. At that time, you may wish to employ your own counsel.” She bangs the gavel down again.
The prosecuting attorney winks at me. “We’re just getting started, Mooncrest.” She turns and walks away from the counsel table and down the middle aisle of the courtroom.
I look at Alexei. “This is a problem.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” He gestures me ahead of him, and he follows me out to where we meet Garik in the hall.
“I already paid the bail,” he says, handing over an envelope. “Here’s all your stuff.”
I don’t object to this uncommon procedure. Alexei should have to go through a discharge procedure and collect his own belongings, but, apparently, they’re not finished throwing money around.
We walk toward the doors, and through the glass, a multitude of reporters and cameras are waiting. We’ll have to go right through them to reach the parking area.
“The back exit is just as bad,” Garik says grimly.
I take a deep breath and walk outside with Garik in front of me and Alexei behind me as if they’re flanking me.
Alexei’s shoulder is damaged, and so I should try to protect him from anybody hitting his arm.
Lillian Sokolov rushes forward, shrieking. “You killed my son. You killed my son.”
She goes for Alexei, and Garik swiftly wraps an arm around her waist and swirls her away, planting her back on her feet.
“Back off, lady,” he barks.
“You killed him,” she screams, tears running down her face, her graying hair a disheveled tangle around her shoulders.
Alexei’s jaw hardens, and he looks at all the cameras. I do the same. This is a freaking disaster. Every potential juror we’ll receive in a pool will see this.
I feel pity and even sorrow for her. She’s lost both of her sons. I can’t imagine that kind of pain. “We’ll find out who killed him, Mrs. Sokolov,” I say quietly. “But it wasn’t Alexei.”
She hisses and leaps toward me with her fingers and nails extended. Garik once again pulls her away from me.
“You probably helped him. We all know you’re screwing him,” she screams.
My stomach rolls over.
She sticks her hands in her rain slicker, looking fragile and desperate. Lonely. “It was your letter opener. I bet you killed him together to get the company—to get all of the money. I’ll take you both down. I promise.”
With that, she turns, her light-gray raincoat swirling, and stomps back down the stairs, cameras clicking the whole way. She reaches a running black town car at the curb, opens the back door herself, and gets in. It drives quickly off.
The reporters begin shouting questions at both Alexei and me. Garik pushes people out of the way, and we get to the curb where he also has a town car waiting. He opens the back door, and I hurry inside, scooting over so Alexei can follow me.
The reporters get closer, cameras right up against the windows that, thank goodness, are tinted. Garik elbows his way through them to cross around and get into the driver’s side where he starts the vehicle and guns the engine. He has to nudge them with the car to force them out of the way, but soon we’re miles from the courthouse.
I drop my face into my hands. This is a disaster.
“How bad is it?” Alexei asks.
My voice is muffled but I don’t care. “Legally, it’s terrible. I will be taken off your case. I’ll be made a material witness, and if they can prove the affair, I’ll lose my law license.” Too bad hiding isn’t an option. I sit up. “I know what you did for my friend.” We can finally speak freely.
“I’m aware,” he says.
Garik looks in the review mirror. “There will be reporters at your place, Rosalie. Maybe at the new building you bought, Alexei, if they know about it. That’s where I suggest we go.”
Alexei leans back and gingerly removes his jacket. I help him, wondering how bad his wound pains him now. He’s pale beneath his bronzed skin.