Friction

Didn’t matter. Two witnesses are just as effective as three.

When I get back to my table, I say, “Your Honor, the defendant calls Holly Wharles to the stand.”

Then I bite the bullet and I do it.

I take a quick glance over at Leary.

Her back is to me and she’s leaning in toward Je

They’re filled with tears and my heart cracks farther open while my stomach cramps in shame. I swivel my head to look behind me at Tom Collier, sitting in the first row. His face is triumphant and filled with haughtiness. I look back to the jury, and they all watch Holly Wharles as she comes through the low swinging gate and walks toward the witness stand.

The clerk puts her under oath, she takes a seat, and I start to destroy Leary’s case by destroying the credibility of the plaintiff.

Easy as pie.

If I’ve calculated correctly, Leary has about a forty-five-minute head start on me, and I can’t imagine she’d be anywhere else other than her home. I’m prepared to grovel mightily.

The testimony of my rebuttal witnesses didn’t take long, and because they were a surprise, Leary wasn’t able to do an effective cross-examination. They were powerfully effective, and the jury was highly interested in what they had to say.

The minute they both testified, the jurors’ sympathetic looks toward Je

Judge Henry insisted on dismissing the jurors and giving them a bit of a long weekend since it was just before lunch on Friday. He reasoned that closing arguments would take at least half a day, and he didn’t want the jury having to wait a weekend to begin deliberations. So instead, Leary and I stayed in the courtroom, and Judge Henry conducted the charge conference where we went over the jury instructions, that body of law that the judge will read to the jury to help guide them through their deliberations.

After that was finished, Judge Henry dismissed us and Leary jetted out of the courtroom. I went immediately to my law firm, where as I expected, Kratzenburg and Collier were in Kratzenburg’s office drinking scotch and gloating over those last two witnesses. Both of them were riding high, like hunters off a fresh kill.

I, on the other hand, was worried sick about Leary as well as Je

Just before I entered Gill’s office, I heard Tom say, “I’m glad we sent the investigator back out to push at those witnesses.”

“Yeah, well . . . let’s keep that between us,” Kratzenburg said with a chuckle.

I gave a light knock on the door to a

“Reeve, you are a fucking rock star,” Kratzenburg cackled when I stepped into his office. “Come have a drink with us to celebrate.”

Collier just smirked at me. My fingers curled tightly into my palms, balling into fists that wanted to punch the ever-loving fuck out of his smug face.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my key chain. Calmly removing one from the coil, I stepped forward and laid it on Kratzenburg’s desk. “Consider this my notice. I quit.”

Gill’s eyes rounded and his mouth popped open in surprise. “You quit?”

“I quit,” I repeated. “I’m going to clear out my office now.”

I turned to leave, but Gill snapped out of his fogged surprise. “You can’t quit. You’re lead counsel in this case. You have a duty to show up and finish this.”

Turning back around, I say, “I don’t owe you shit. You’ve sat through this trial with me. You can handle the closing arguments.”

Realizing that I was dead serious, Gill tried another tack. “I don’t understand, Reeve. You did brilliantly. I’m sure you’ll get a raise after this. Why would you want to quit the firm and this case?”

All of the anxiety, guilt, and sadness permeating my being morphed in a white-hot flash. It curled inward and when it exploded out, it was molten rage. I stalked around his desk, got right in his face, and snarled, “You want to know why I quit? I quit because you and your greedy, scum-sucking clients took pleasure today in hurting a woman whose worst crime was loving her son so much she’d do anything to protect him. You make me sick, and working for you makes me sick. It’s a stain on my soul I can’t bear anymore, so that’s why I quit.”

I didn’t give him a chance to respond. I didn’t look at Tom Collier, preferring to let time and distance hopefully start to fade him from my memory. I turned away and slammed out of his office, going to my own to pack up my belongings. I was out of there in fifteen minutes flat.

Pulling up in front of Leary’s house, I see her garage door down but a black Mercedes sedan in the driveway. If I have to take an educated guess, Ford is in the house with her right now, marveling over my evil ways.

I walk up to Leary’s front door. Before I can clear the top porch step, it opens and Ford is indeed standing there with his arms across his chest. I expect him to be thundering at me with rage, but his eyes are knowing and sad.

“She doesn’t want to see you,” he says softly.

“She needs to let me explain,” I counter as I take a step closer. Past his shoulder, I can see the inside of Leary’s house . . . her living room, part of her sunroom on the back . . . but no Leary.

“She doesn’t want to hear it,” Ford says evenly.

“Come on, man,” I plead with him. “I just need a few minutes. I have to tell her—”

A delicate hand comes around Ford’s shoulder, pushing him to the side. Leary appears from behind him, dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and a T-shirt. Her eyes are bleak and red tinged.

“Leary—” I start out, but she cuts me off.

Her voice is deadly calm. “Get off my porch. Get in your car and drive away. Don’t ever contact me again.”

She slowly turns away and starts walking back into her living room. Her shoulders are sagging, and from this angle, it looks like she’s aged a hundred years.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, needing to get the words out while she can still hear them. “I’m sorry for what happened. I didn’t have a choice, and you have to believe me, it killed me to do that.”

Leary stops for a moment. When she turns back to look at me, her eyes are blazing in fury. She takes two steps back up to the door and pushes Ford even farther out of the way. “You’re sorry?” she whispers with barely controlled rage.

“Yes,” I say emphatically.

“What exactly are you sorry for, Reeve?” she asks sarcastically. “For ruining a beautiful woman who did nothing to deserve the shit storm you just piled on her? Or are you sorry because you didn’t have the balls to prevent that shit storm?”

“My hands were tied,” I grit out.

“Bullshit,” she snarls as she steps out onto the front porch and stands on her tiptoes to get in my face. “You had a choice.”

“Fine. I had a choice. I chose to stay within the boundaries of the law,” I defend myself, even though it feels so very wrong to do.

I expect her to retaliate. To attack. To call me every dirty name in the book, and hell, for good measure, she might as well slap the shit out of me.

Instead, my knees nearly buckle when tears fill her eyes and her chin starts to tremble. “You chose to be a coward,” she says as teardrops fall, leaving silvery trails down her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she blinks her eyes and rubs the back of her hand over her cheeks to dry them. “Now, get off my property and please don’t bother me again.”