Friction

“You said you wouldn’t hold my job against me,” I say forcefully, trying to keep dialogue open. “You promised.”

More tears spill, sticking in her lashes and cascading down her cheeks. “I did,” she says quietly, her words filled with pain. “And I’m apparently breaking that promise right now. But I made that promise before you gave me your heart and I gave you mine. I didn’t take into consideration how badly you could hurt me.”

“I didn’t do this to you, Leary. I did my job. I did this to your case.”

Leary gives me a sad smile, shaking her head. “Do you really believe that, Reeve? Knowing my background and what this all meant to me, did you really not think this would hurt me personally?”

I close my eyes slowly, telling myself this is a bad dream. I close my eyes because I can’t stand to see the accusation in hers, and because I know she’s right. I did this knowing she was going to get personally hurt, and I could have prevented it. I could have stopped all of this by being truthful with her from the begi

I need to let her know that, but when I open my eyes to tell her what a fool I’ve been, she’s gone. Ford is still standing there, though, looking surprisingly sympathetic.

I can’t stand the look. It merely confirms what Leary just told me—it’s over between us.

I spin on my heel and lumber down her porch steps. When I reach my car door, I turn and see Ford following me. He clearly has something to say, so I just stare at him.

“Listen,” he says carefully. “I’m sorry . . . for both of you. I know you had something special.”

“Apparently not that special,” I murmur as I look back toward her house, knowing that I’m the one who failed to make the choice that would have preserved it. “Do you think I chose wrong?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think,” he says, doing nothing to inflame or assuage my guilt. “But do me a favor—Monday in court, don’t try to harass her into talking to you. You know the chances of her wi

I open my car door and step into the driver’s side. Shooting him a quick look, I say, “I won’t be there. I quit Battle Carnes this afternoon after court was over. Kratzenburg will finish up the trial.”

Sitting down in the driver’s seat, I close the door and take a quick glance at Ford. He’s staring at me thoughtfully, both of his hands tucked into his pockets. Giving me a nod of his head, he turns away and heads back toward Leary’s porch.

As soon as I back out of the driveway and put the car in drive, I pull my phone out. I might have lost Leary for good, but maybe I can still do something to help salvage her case.

I dial Rhonda Valasquez’s number again. As per usual, it goes right to voice mail, and I don’t hesitate in my message.

“Miss Valasquez, this is Reeve Holloway again. I wanted you to know that I quit working at Battle Carnes today. I no longer represent Dr. Summerland. I really need to talk to you about this case. It’s taken a bad turn, and if there’s anything you can do to help Je

Hanging up my phone, I drive back home. There’s nothing to do but wait and hope that she calls me back, and then hope that she has something worthwhile to tell me.

CHAPTER 23

LEARY

“Are we ready to begin?” Judge Henry asks affably from up on his perch.

I give him a confident smile. “The plaintiff is ready, Your Honor.”

Turning my gaze, I look over at the defense table. I knew Reeve wouldn’t be sitting there this Monday morning—Ford told me that he quit Battle Carnes. This surprised me, but past that, I didn’t have time to give any credence to the feelings that welled up within me at the news. Instead, I tried to numb myself to Reeve and everything that we had.

Gill Kratzenburg showed up this morning, and we met in the judge’s chambers. He advised Judge Henry that Mr. Holloway would not be making further appearances and that he would handle the remainder of the case. Judge Henry was surprised, and I managed to look the same myself. Regardless, there was no sense in holding up the show.

Kratzenburg stands up. “The defendant is ready.”

“Then let’s move on to closing arguments,” Judge Henry says and then turns to the bailiff. “You can bring the jury in.”

“Your Honor,” I butt in politely, “I would respectfully request that you reopen evidence and allow the plaintiff to call one rebuttal witness.”

Kratzenburg explodes. “I object, Your Honor.”

“Of course you do,” Judge Henry says drily as he looks at Gill in boredom. “Just as Miss Michaels objected to your rebuttal witnesses.” Turning his eyes to me, he pushes, “Tell me what you have, Miss Michaels.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be calling Miss Rhonda Valasquez to the stand. She was one of two surgical nurses who assisted Dr. Summerland during Je

Judge Henry nods and says, “I’ll allow it. Let’s call the jury in, and then you can call your witness.”

As I sit in my chair, I watch as Gill Kratzenburg leans over toward Dr. Summerland, who looks positively green right now. He knows exactly why I’m calling Rhonda Valasquez to the stand, and I’d bet he’d sell his right kidney to be anywhere but here in this courtroom.

I’d like to say she’s a gift from God, but she’s actually a gift from Reeve. I was sitting in my living room on Sunday afternoon, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a Stanford sweatshirt, when my doorbell rang. When I opened the door, I saw a middle-aged, heavyset woman with sandy-blonde hair and light-brown eyes. She looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Miss Michaels, my name is Rhonda Valasquez. I was one of the nurses involved with your client’s surgery. I have something important to tell you.”

My jaw dropped and I sort of stuttered when I asked, “I don’t understand. How did you find my house?”

“Reeve Holloway contacted me yesterday. He thinks I can help your case. I know I can.”

And just like that, Je

Rhonda and I talked for three hours on Sunday afternoon, and she agreed to testify this morning. She wasn’t hesitant at all, only claiming hesitancy in talking to Reeve, who’d been trying to contact her for weeks. She confessed she finally broke down when he left her a message on Friday saying he was no longer working for Dr. Summerland.

The door to the jury room opens and I wait for them all to file in. None of them look toward Je

It was time to change that.

Judge Henry explains to the jury that I have a rebuttal witness, and then he turns to me. “The jury is with the plaintiff, Miss Michaels.”

Standing from my chair, I say, “I’d like to call Rhonda Valasquez to the stand.”