Beauty Vs. The Beast

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Judge Ingle didn’t seem all that disappointed, either. He looked at Kay as if with new appreciation for her fighting spirit. Then he raised his gavel, once again.

“No filming inside the courtroom,” he said simply. He followed his proclamation with a short rap.

“But, Your Honor—”

“Come now, Mr. Croghan,” Ingle interrupted. “With the kind of sensationalism this case will engender, you won’t be able to keep the news hounds at bay. Now, you two, listen up, because we play by the Marquis of Ingle’s rules in this court. I want a good fight, a clean fight. You’ll get no interference from the bench for surprise punches, but keep them in the legal zones. Nine o’clock Monday morning we’ll begin to impanel the jury. By ten o’clock Tuesday morning, I expect each of you to be ready to come out from your corners swinging your introductory remarks. May the best lawyer win. Court’s adjourned.”

* * *

“DAMN INGLE and his sudden need for literary acclaim,” Kay lamented. “His allowing the case to be heard was always a possibility, but his accepting Croghan’s feeble argument to extend the statute of limitations for filing was ludicrous, absolutely ludicrous. He’s just looking for colorful grist for the milling of his next novel. This case should never be going to trial.”

Kay threw the words over her shoulder as she charged down the King County Courthouse stairwell, doing her best to physically work off her anger. They had seven more flights to go and she knew she was going to need every one.

She heard Damian’s reply from behind her as he kept pace with her downward plunge. “At least you got the media barred.”

“From filming in the courtroom only. They still can have reporters flooding the spectator area. And you can bet Croghan is going to make sure they do. This is just the kind of unusual case they love to sensationalize. In addition to everything else, we’re going to have to be prepared for the press.”

“Are you really not ready to start Monday?”

“It’s certainly not when I would have chosen to begin. But we’ll manage. What will be critical is lining up defense witnesses in time.”

“How can I help?”

“You could start by contacting those two psychologists you told me about earlier this week, the ones you consulted with on Lee’s case. See if both will be available to appear in court next week.”

“What day?”

“Soonest would be Thursday. As you heard, Monday will be taken up with jury selection. Tuesday and Wednesday will most likely be the days when Croghan will be presenting the plaintiff’s case. He gave me a long list of potential witnesses, one hundred in all.”

“A hundred witnesses? You must be kidding.”

“No, but he is. It’s a ploy to try to overwhelm us, to use up all our energy tracking down these people to find out what they could possibly have to say. He probably won’t be calling more than a handful. Still, we have a full weekend ahead preparing even for that handful.”

“How can we know which ones will be included in that group?”

“We can’t know for certain. That’s why he made the list so long. Try to see if the two psychologists can keep Thursday and Friday open.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes. Croghan has a psychologist on his witness list, a Dr. Upton Van Pratt. I doubt he’s a red herring. Recognize the name?”

“Upton Van Pratt is a past president of the American Psychological Association.”

“Damn. That alone will give him clout in the jury’s eyes. What else do you know about him?”

“If memory serves, I believe he’s retired now. I’m surprised he’s willing to testify in a case like this considering his standing. I’ll see what I can find out.”

“That’ll be helpful. I’ll also need a list of any books or articles he might have written.”

Kay checked her watch as she continued her trajectory down the last flight of stairs. “I have to talk to Lee Nye right away. This afternoon, if possible. Tomorrow, at the latest. Can you set it up for me?”

“Today is probably impossible. I’ll see what I can do for tomorrow. Your office?”

“Yes. The psychologists are important, but at the moment, Lee is our key defense witness. You’re sure he’s willing to testify on your behalf?”

“Last time I spoke to him. I can’t imagine anything that would have changed his mind.”

“How does he come across?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you think a jury will consider him a credible witness?”

“That’s hard to say.”

Kay came to an abrupt stop on the stairs and whirled. She hadn’t realized how closely Damian had been following her until they collided. He grabbed her shoulders to steady them both.

Kay felt the warm strength of his hands. She smelled the exciting clean scent of his after-shave. He felt good and he smelled good, and she knew the sudden breathlessness in her body had absolutely nothing to do with her rapid descent on the stairs.

They were so close, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her forehead. He was looking down at her, his thick, rich, dark brown hair haloed by the subdued overhead lights, the strong planes of his face shadowed, his eyes mere glints of green.

The blood began to beat far too loudly against her eardrums, silencing her fading thoughts. She drifted closer to him as though drawn by the insistent pull of some invisible magnet, her senses swimming with the drawing heat and scent of him.

Then, suddenly, the door to the upper floor was pushed open and voices rushed into the stairwell as the echo of several pairs of feet clattered above them, climbing to the next floor.

Kay started at the noise. The rational part of her mind came to as though it had been in a trance. She was surprised and shocked to find herself so close to her client.

She immediately leaned back, slipped her shoulders from beneath his hands and descended the next step. He did nothing to stop her retreat. Nor did he advance. He just stood there watching her with those glinting eyes.

Kay looked away and tried to collect her jumbled thoughts. Damn, what had they been discussing? She had to think. Ingle was making the case go to trial. She had to have everything ready by Monday. The press. The psychologists. Lee. Yes, that was it. Lee.

She looked back at the man waiting on the stair above her and schooled her voice into its most professional aplomb.

“You’re being deliberately evasive about Lee. Why?”

He leaned his elbow against the stairwell banister and smiled down at her, displaying all the relaxed composure she was currently missing within herself.

“You’re right, Kay. Possibly, I should have told you this sooner, but I’d hoped for the suit to be dismissed this morning and, in that event, I believed telling you wouldn’t be necessary.”

As always, Kay did her best not to succumb to the infectiousness of his smile and to concentrate instead on the import of his words.

“What have you kept from me?”

“Lee Nye is a bit...unusual.”

“Unusual? How do you mean, unusual?”

“I don’t want to prejudice your thinking. I’d rather you met him and made up your own mind.”

Kay turned to descend the final few stairs. A bit... unusual. She didn’t like the sound of it. She didn’t like the sound of it at all.

* * *

THE ATTIC BEGAN to lighten a bit. Lee Nye, the little boy who had been sleeping for such a long time, opened his eyes and realized that something was nudging him awake. He didn’t quite know what it was, but the gentle mental poke was unmistakable. He yawned and stretched and got out of his nice warm bed to pad over to the narrow attic window. He perched his chin on the sill to see what was going on.

The objects were even clearer than last time. The colors even more vibrant. He’d never felt so...close to the world below before.

When he’d first looked out his attic window, it had been so fuzzy. The objects and people moved as though they were simply dark shadows against a gray sheet. But not today. Today things were so clear, so real.

He stepped back from the window. Sometimes, the realness disturbed him. He wasn’t certain he wanted to look.

He remembered a long time ago he had looked out his attic window and a little boy with a sad face had looked up at him as though he were asking him to come out to play. He didn’t think anyone down there could see him until that little boy had looked directly up at him.

That, too, had been too real.

He hadn’t gone down to play, of course. He didn’t know the little boy. And why would he have wanted to leave his attic, anyway?

He moved toward the window again, pressed his nose against the pane. Once again, the world below flashed clear and close.