CHAPTER 5
Melissa
I manage to hold onto Rosana and her mother a little longer in my office. But it’s not enough time for Judge Bronson to agree to the search and seizure motion.
Declan raps on my door about an hour later. “Can I come in?”
I put my pen down on my desk, watching him as he shuts the door. “You’re pissed at me, aren’t you?” he asks, his expression clearly that of a man who would expect no less of me.
“I’m not angry at you, Declan,” I begin.
“Didn’t seem that way back in my office,” he interrupts.
Wow. For someone who’s accusing me of being mad, he’s the one acting testy.
“I was trying to help Rosana,” he says continuing. “And I was trying to connect with her.”
“By attempting to be charming?” I ask, crossing my arms.
Something in my face causes him grin. “Believe it or not, most women think I pull it off pretty damn well.”
“I have no doubt. But today you didn’t quite manage.”
“I wasn’t talking about you,” he fires back. “I already know what you think of me.”
I gasp. “I wasn’t talking about me either.”
His face reddens, but I don’t wait for him to speak. “Iker was a family friend,” I begin. “He gained Rosana’s trust by paying attention to her, listening intently to everything she said, and making her laugh, in other words, charming her.”
He lifts his chin, the muscles along his jaw tensing. “She’s a sweet kid, who’s had a really rough life,” I tell him. “That doesn’t make her your sweetie, like you called her. Because if you remember the last man who gave her a pet name, who paid attention to her, and who claimed to want to help her, convinced her to let him into her apartment when her mother was away and assaulted her.”
“I wasn’t trying to remind her of Iker,” he snaps. “That wasn’t my intention―”
He stops as I shake my head. “I know you didn’t mean to come across this way,” I say softly. “And that you were only trying to bond with her. But with a kid like Rosana, who can’t even trust her own mother to help her, you have to earn her trust by being genuine and keeping some distance.”
When he doesn’t say anything, I’m certain that like Rosana, he’ll shut me out. But then he says, “I’m sorry.”
The sincerity in his features and tone is like a tangible force, holding my attention longer than it should and warming my heart in a way he’s not supposed to.
I avert my gaze. “I’m sorry, too,” I say. “I’m not trying to insult you or tell you how to do your job. But all those cases you’ve tried, however challenging, didn’t involve victims like Rosana.”
“I realize that now,” he agrees quietly.
The quiet spreads between us, but it’s not uncomfortable or tense, and maybe something we both need at the moment. The mental exertion of keeping up with the conversation earlier, and the stress from the cases I handled today alone, hits me all at once. Not that it stops me from thinking matters through.
I blamed Declan for the way he came across, but had I met with him ahead of time, we could have discussed how best to approach Rosana. He’s handled a plethora of cases and met with multiple witnesses and victims. But the victims in this unit are a different breed and so very fragile.
“I should have prepared you for the meeting and warned you she was defensive,” I admit. I take him in from his meticulous cut wavy blond hair to shiny expensive shoes, trying not to judge this future politician standing before me. “I just never expected you to be so . . .” I shake my hand at him. “You.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he says, the corners of his mouth stretching into a way-too sexy grin that causes his blue eyes to shimmer.
For some reason, I blush. I’m not someone who blushes because she’s shy or easily embarrassed―especially around someone like him who would enjoy it too much.
I shuffle the papers around my desk, trying to hide my face and not cringe when instead of walking out he edges closer. He stops directly in front of my desk, leaning forward so that his elbows rest across the smooth surface. “Are you blushing?”
“I don’t blush,” I assure him, gathering random sheets of paper on my desk and making more of a mess than anything.
He angles his head, trying to peer at my face. “I don’t know,” he says like he’s giving it some thought. “I’ve made plenty of women blush in my life . . .”
“Oh, I’m sure you have, counselor,” I say, my face growing hotter.
“. . . and I’m pretty sure that’s a blush you have going on. Hmm, it might be one of my best ones yet.”
I slam the stack of screwed up notes against my desk and glare at him. “Is there something you need help with Assistant District Attorney O’Brien? I’m very busy.”
He straightens, cocky grin firmly in place, lean muscles flexing just enough to show he works out, and again looking way too good in a suit. Damn it, does he have to be this attractive?
“No, I just came in here to see if you’re mad at me,” he says, adding a well-rehearsed wink. “Nice to know you’re not.”
I push away from my desk and open my bottom drawer, reaching for my purse. “How about dinner―?”
“I don’t date men I work with,” I say, my grip to my purse strap way too tight.
“I wasn’t asking you out,” he says, his voice fading with every word.
If I wasn’t blushing before, I certainly am now. For a moment, I simply freeze, my mind racing with how to respond.
My fingers clench around my purse strap hard enough to hurt. I lift my chin as he carefully straightens. The arrogance initially so vivid in his features is gone as well as any hint of flirtation.
“Look, I don’t date women I work with either.” He crosses his arms, appearing embarrassed for me. “We were supposed to discuss the Morris Miller case following our meeting with Rosana. With everything that went down, we never had the chance.” He speaks slowly, as if trying to make sure I understand that our relationship is strictly business. No, I’m not humiliated or anything. “I know you often work late so I thought we could have something delivered and go over the case then.”
He does a one shoulder shrug, trying to appear casual. Based on his far too rigid stance, he doesn’t quite pull it off.
I have two choices here: Say no and all but admit that I’m too mortified to be alone with him―after wrongfully assuming he wanted to date me―or pretend to be strong and take the meeting.
“In that case, count me in,” I say, beaming.
He puckers an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Of course. Maybe when we’re done with the case, I can cover some aspects of victim trauma and discuss interview skills that may help you in the future.”
“Sure,” he says, eyeing me in a way that tells me he can see right through me. “Thai sound good?”
“Sounds great,” I say, standing.
Oh . . . gawd. Why would I think he was asking me out?
I force another smile and plop my giant bag on the desk, spilling the contents across the surface when the front closure pops open.
If this were a romantic comedy, my desk would be littered with tampons, condoms, and an extra pair of panties. I wish I was that lucky. Any of those items would be welcome over the tattered paperbacks spread across the slick wood: bare-chested men and their come-hither stares firmly in place, groin muscles bulging.
Declan stills in place, his gaze traveling across each model gripping his ladylove mid-swoon. “My Lusty Highlander?” he asks, reading off the titles. “My Pirate, My Lover?” He reaches for the last before I can snatch it away from him. “The Naked Cowboy who Deflowered Me?” He lifts his chin. “You―” He pauses, as if gathering his words. But when he swallows hard enough to bounce his Adam’s apple, it’s clear he’s just trying not to laugh. “You like this sort of thing?”
“Of course not!” I insist.
Oh, and there’s that cocky smirk I could have done without. “Then why do you have them?”
“I picked them up at used bookstore.”
“They sell crotch-less panties at that bookstore?” he asks, laughing.
My face is officially on fire. “There’s a woman I met at the domestic violence shelter who loves them,” I say. It’s true, but so do I. And no, she’s not getting these bad boys.
“So you purchased them for this woman?”
“I wanted to give her a treat,” I say, lying my ass off. I throw in a flirty shrug and teasing grin, trying to give the impression that I think it’s hilarious that there are actually women who read this sort of thing, even though, I am, indeed, one of those women. “It’s just the kind of gal I am.”
“Uh-huh,” he says, his humor fading.
My playfulness dwindles. The way he’s looking at me isn’t in that mocking way he was before. This look is alluring, daring me to get closer, and promising me sweet, sexy things if I do. But that can’t be right. Not when he made it clear he wasn’t asking me on a date.
A knock on my door breaks our eye contact. “Come in,” I say. I’m thankful for the distraction until I see who it is and why she’s here.
“Hi, Declan.” Stephanie’s dazzling smile lights up the room when she sees him. She glances briefly in my direction. “Hi,” she tells me with a lot less dazzle.
She tosses her hair back in a way I’m sure she’s practiced a thousand times. “Detective Melo has been looking for you,” she says, focusing fully on Declan. “Something about the search and seizure. I told him I’d find you.”
Declan frowns. “Where is he?”
She backs away, luring him out. “At his cubicle. He’s on the phone and seems flustered.”
They take off, neither glancing back.
Stephanie barely acknowledged me. Given my position, I expected her to show me a little more respect. It stings that she didn’t though I recognize that like many women who work here, Declan’s mere presence has her enthralled. But the sting is still there, no matter how much I wish it wasn’t.
Stephanie is pretty, stunning even. She reminds me of all the beautiful girls I went to school with, who like her, barely glanced my way. My accomplishments never impressed those girls, neither did my hard work. I tried to be friendly and often gathered my courage to say, “hi”.
Aside from a few obliged “hellos” back, they didn’t offer much more. Instead they’d stare at my mouth, unable to get past the way I spoke. They didn’t understand, and probably didn’t care, that I speak how words sound to me, and despite the intensive speech therapy I received, this was my normal.
I didn’t know I had a speech impediment until I was told that I did. But it wasn’t until I recorded my voice one day and played it back that I realized how different I spoke from the hearing world.
The experience was startling, and made me self-conscious. It took my dad reminding me that even though I speak differently, it doesn’t make what I say less important.
I wanted to believe him, and in a way I still struggle. Sometimes, it’s really hard. Whenever I meet someone new it’s like I have to prove there’s more to me than just my voice.
With a sigh, I throw my purse stuffed with smutty books over my shoulder and shut my office door behind me.
“Going to court, Melissa?”
I turn around smiling as Detective Valencia Hernandez hurries down the hall. Her willowy frame and lovely face suggests she’s more model than investigator. But most models can’t throw a perp twice her size to the ground.
“Hi, Valencia,” I say when she reaches me. “I need to take care of some things courtside, but then I’ll be back. Is there something pressing you need?”
She smacks my arm with the file she’s holding. “Of course I need something. Don’t I always need something from you, girl?”
I laugh, because yes, she always does. “How can I help you?”
“It’s about Betty Clemson. She can’t afford counseling and is pretty damn traumatized from the armed robbery she witnessed.”
I try to place the name. “Is that the case where the owner was shot at point blank range?”
“In the face? So his brains splattered the display case behind him? Yup. That’s the one.”
That poor man, and poor Betty, too. “Ask Debbie to call her. She can fill out a services form over the phone for her. I’ll review it, fax it through to the state, and ask them to put a rush on it.”
“Thanks, Melissa.” She cocks her head. “You okay? You seem a little bummed.”
“I’m fine. Just busy.”
She gives me her all-knowing once-over. “Girl, all you do is work. Come out with us to happy hour tonight. You look like you could use a drink and a little fun.”
“I can’t tonight,” I tell her. “I’m meeting with Declan after hours to discuss a case we’re working on.”
“Oh, I see,” she says, laughing.
My smile fades. “It’s not like that.”
“Uh, huh.” She gives me another smack with her folder and walks away.
I groan. Sometimes it really sucks working with investigators. They’re trained to pick up on subtle changes in a person’s demeanor. In a room with Detectives Hernandez, Melo―anyone of the law enforcement staff, I don’t think I’d stand a chance. They’d see right through the confidence I try maintain and unearth every insecurity threatening to tear through me.
I hurry out the side door and down the stairwell, wishing my encounter with Declan hadn’t affected me like it had. He walked away without another glance back. I know he felt rushed, and if it involved the search and seizure, it was urgent, just as I know I shouldn’t care. We both have work to do. But even knowing as much doesn’t make the snub an easier pill to swallow. Not with Stephanie so close to his heels, and especially not with how easily she dismissed me.
My shoulder length hair sweeps behind me as I walk along the bridge connecting our building to the courthouse. With my badge firmly in place, the sheriff’s officers wave me through and past the line of people waiting to clear the metal detector.
I’m supposed to observe one of the newly appointed A.D.A.s, Kirk Stevenson. He’s clerked in our office for over a year now, waiting for the opportunity to prove himself. Since Declan is considering him for SACU, I’m hoping Kirk can measure up.
With a deep breath I proceed to Judge Bronson’s courtroom, increasing the speed in my stride. There are a cluster of people piled outside the double doors leading in. They speak in low murmurs, but the collection of voices is loud enough to overwhelm my hearing. I hurry forward when I catch sight of the judge’s clerk walking back to chambers. “Steve,” I call out.
I’m not sure he hears me until he turns around. “Oh, hey, Melissa,” I watch him mouth, doing my best to tune out the extra noise. “What are you up to?”
“I’m here to observe Kirk Stevenson . . . What’s wrong?” I ask when he makes a face.
He hooks my elbow and guides me down the small hall that leads to the chambers. “Look, Melissa. I’m only telling you this because my clerk assignment ends in another week.” He waits as one of the deputies hurries past him before continuing. “Rumor has it Kirk just accepted a position with a firm downtown. He’s biding his time here and making connections until he starts his new job.”
Awesome. So much for him. I glance around, hoping I didn’t waste my time by coming. “Are there any other A.D.A.s around?”
“A few.” He sighs. “Including the woman who broke my heart.”
I follow his stare to the corner where Tess O’Brien is standing. Oh, yes, I’d heard a few of the clerks had it bad for her.
Tess is lovely, tall and thin, except where her baby bump is showing. She doesn’t notice me, too busy flipping through the file as she speaks to a defense attorney and his client. Just a few feet behind her waits her husband Curran. He’s dressed in his Philly cop uniform, watching his wife and her interaction closely.
Considering opposing council is looming over Tess and rolling his eyes as she speaks, Curran seems surprisingly calm. “Thanks, Steve,” I say, walking toward them.
I frown the closer I draw. The defense attorney is being blatantly disrespectful, and the client isn’t that much better. But honestly what shocks me is how unaffected Curran appears. That’s his pregnant wife, and for all he jokes, he’s known for his tough-as-steel persona. I don’t understand why he’s not stepping in to throttle this jerk.
I inch closer, not wanting to leave her so vulnerable. I can’t hear Tess well, but I can read her lips. “This is what you’re going to do,” she says. “Plead guilty to the possession and intoxication charges, and I’ll drop the misconduct and indecent exposure.”
Defense council huffs. “You can’t be serious. He’s a first time offender.”
“I’m not doing that,” the defendant snaps. He scowls at his attorney. “You said I wouldn’t have to do any of that.”
“You don’t,” his attorney tells him.
I stop beside Curran. He keeps his attention on Tess, but nudges me with his elbow. “Watch this,” he says.
She straightens to her full height, adjusting her tiny glasses. “That’s true. You don’t have to plead guilty. We can set up a hearing and try this case today.” She motions around. “You see all these people, all these fine and proud Philadelphians? I’m sure they’re dying to hear how you got blasted out of your mind, ran across Liberty Park naked, and peed on their sacred bell—no, that you peed on American history and the very embodiment of freedom.” She veers on the attorney. “You’re ready, aren’t you counselor? Because I am. In fact, I’ve already prepared my witnesses, including the two priests who saw your client strip off his clothes and sprint across the lawn. They’re on standby and ready to go.”
“I need a week,” the defense attorney counters.
“To prepare for a case that’s been sitting on your desk for over a month?” Tess addresses the defendant. “How much are you paying him, never mind,” she adds quickly. “Just know it’s more than I make, that I received this case yesterday, and that I’m ready to try this case now. Oh, and keep in mind that not only did you basically pay him to stand here and do nothing, but that he’ll be asking you for more money to try the case. Steve?” she calls out.
“Yes, Assistant District Attorney O’Brien?” Steve answers, grinning.
“Could you squeeze us in this afternoon for a quick trial?” Her eyes narrow at the defense attorney. “I assure you it won’t take long.”
“No problem, Tess,” he replies.
My head whips back to Tess’s group so I don’t miss a word. The attorney starts to open his mouth, but Tess cuts him off. “Unless your client is ready to plead to the charges I recommended, I have nothing more to say to you. See you this afternoon.”
She starts to leave, her pace slowing when she sees us standing there. “Hi, Melissa,” she says, before turning to Curran. “What are you doing here, cop?”
“Watching you get me hot.”
Her face flushes pink only to redden further when he puts his arms around her waist and pulls her close. “Curran, I’m at work,” she reminds him.
“What?” he asks. “It’s not like I grabbed your ass like last time.”
She shakes her head, prying his hands loose when they start to wander south.
I laugh. I can’t help it. It’s not that I don’t agree with Tess, that this is a public place and he needs to behave. But Curran is just so cute around her.
When I was first introduced to Curran, I was immediately attracted to his ruggedness and personality. Throw in the fact that he’s fluent in ASL and he totally had me. I was in heaven for two solid minutes, until Tess stepped forward and I realized there was something between them. But that’s how my life has always been, the supposed perfect man standing mere feet away from me only for another woman to swoop in and claim him.
“What are you doing here, Melissa?” she asks, turning back to me.
“I’m here to observe Kirk’s case,” I answer.
Curran stays close, keeping his arm around her. I realize his show of affection is intentional, making it clear to both the court staff and anyone passing that they’re a couple.
Tess wasn’t intimidated by opposing counsel, but her position in the office isn’t without its dangers. Defendants often lash out, the witnesses aren’t that much better, toss in their families and friends and it’s recipe for blow ups that could end in blood. It’s the reason the county employs the amount of sheriff officers they do.
Curran nods to a few officers positioned close by. They return his nod in a show of solidarity and in a silent vow to watch out for Tess in his absence.
“You’re here to see Kirk?” Tess repeats. At my nod, her attention shoots to Courtroom 13. “He’s been in there a while, odd considering it’s a cut and dry case.”
“He’s probably showing off in front of his new boss,” I tell them. “I just learned he accepted a position downtown.”
“You’re kidding,” Curran says. “Dumbass was sworn in following Declan’s recommendation.”
“I don’t think he’s told anyone yet,” I add.
Curran huffs. “Of course he hasn’t. The asshole is trying to milk this position for all it’s worth.”
“Pretty much,” I agree.
The defense attorney Tess was speaking with approaches her slowly, and significantly more respectfully when he catches sight of Curran.
“My client will agree to your terms,” he says, muttering so low, I barely make out what he says.
Tess barely blinks. “Fine. I’ll tell the judge’s clerk.” She presses her free hand against Curran’s chest. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
He watches her walk away. This time, it’s my turn to nudge him. “I like that wife of yours.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “I do, too,” he admits. “She’s perfect.”
I agree. Perfect for Curran and my unit.