Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
“Ask for a break,” Nelson orders.
I clench my teeth. I’m on a timeline I don’t want disrupted. I lean into him. “If we break and I don’t close today, we risk a long deliberation next week that’s not in your best interest.”
“I’m going to fire you if you continue on this path.”
“You won’t get that approved, but you’ll make yourself look guilty or make Kelli look guilty along with you. Do you really want to do that?”
He inhales sharply and settles back in his seat. I am smiling inside, though. That interaction was witnessed. He looked afraid, and not for himself. For his wife. He looks like a man protecting a guilty woman. I didn’t understand this kind of connection between two people before Cat. I do now. After only a few weeks, I’d do anything to protect Cat. The difference between me and Nelson is that, unlike Kelli, Cat is worth the battle.
Chapter twenty-eight
Reese
Kelli takes the stand and is sworn in, completely unaware of the conversation I had with Geneva in this courtroom.
“Do you love your husband?” is my first question.
“Yes,” she says. “Of course.”
“Why?”
“He’s everything. Good looking, generous, kind,” she says. “He’s everything,” she repeats.
“How long have you been married?”
“Five years,” she states.
“The same amount of time Geneva Marks has been his secretary.”
“Objection,” Dan growls. “Is there a question?”
“How long has Geneva Marks been his secretary?”
“Since the week before we were married,” she says. “Five years.”
“Did you ever work for your husband’s companies?”
“Yes. I was a secretary to one of his partners in another building.”
“What do you do now?” I ask.
She frowns. “Why is this relevant?”
The prosecutor interjects, “Objection. She’s right. Why is this relevant?”
I look to Judge Moore, who is sixty, with a lifetime in the court, but he’s tough, and not always fair. “I’m on a path, judge. I’m getting there.”
“Get there quickly,” he states, looking at Kelli. “Answer the question.”
I nod. “What do you do now, Mrs. Ward?”
“I run our household,” she states. “My husband is a busy man. I look out for him.”
“In other words, your life is about your husband. You live for him.”
“Objection,” Dan shouts. “Leading, and again, where is this going?”
“I’ll move on,” I say. “As a secretary, would you say that a secretary knows the innermost workings of a busy man?”
“Yes. I would.”
“Including Geneva Marks, your husband’s secretary?”
“Yes. Including her.”
“Did you know Jennifer Wright?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“My husband saw her crying at a coffee shop he frequents. She worked there. He started talking to her daily for a few weeks. When she finally opened up about her situation, he talked to me, and asked my input. That’s when I suggested a better-paying job would work wonders for her, and I just happened to know about a friend looking for a nanny.”
“And that friend can confirm the interview was set up?”
“She can, yes.”
“Please state her name for the courtroom records.”
“Carrie Matthews.”
I look at the judge as Richard moves forward. “Entering into the record a statement from Carrie Matthews confirming this information.”
Once that is complete, I move on and return to the prior topic. “Have you ever fought with your husband in his office?”
“Yes. Couples fight.”
“Have you ever fought over Jennifer?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Did you ever fight about this investigation in his office?”
“Yes.”
“What about it?”
“Random things. I don’t remember.”
“Did Jennifer Wright call your husband’s phone the night she’s believed to have been murdered?”
“Yes,” she states.
“Did you have an argument about that call in your husband’s office, within hearing range of his secretary?”
She stares at me. “I think we might have.”
“Was Geneva Marks at her desk at the time?”
“Yes. I believe she was.”
“Why did you argue?”
She shifts in her chair. “Does it matter?”
“Answer the question, Mrs. Ward,” the judge orders.
“I wanted to tell the police that I took that call, but he didn’t want me to,” she says, contradicting what Geneva told us.
There is rumbling in the courtroom, and, of course, assumed guilt placed on my client. But I’m not done. “But you did not.”
“No.”
“Why?” I press.
“He felt it would drag me into this,” she says. “More so than I already have been.”
“Based on that argument that was witnessed by your husband’s secretary, who took the call?”
“Me. I took the call.”
There is another rumbling of voices in the courtroom and the judge calls the court to order, and then looks at me. “Continue.”
“How did you go about answering your husband’s phone?”
“I was reading in bed and he was asleep and I didn’t want to wake him up,” she says. “I grabbed the call and went to the other room.”
“How long was the call?”
“An hour or so. It was a lengthy conversation,” she confirms. “But she needed to talk.”
“Did your husband talk to her?”
“No.”
“Was your husband aware that you were talking to her?” I ask.
“Not until I’d been on the call with her for a while.”
“Why did you take the call at all?”