Читать книгу Do You Take This Cop? - Beth Andrews - Страница 8

NOT GUILTY.

The blood pounding in her ears, Lynne Addison stared blindly ahead as the judge thanked the jury and dismissed the case with a pound of his gavel. Lynne jumped, the sound echoing through her head.

At the table in front of her, her husband, Miles—the man she’d thought would make all of her dreams come true—gave his female defense attorney a hug before shaking his other attorney’s hand.

“Oh, thank God,” Sondra Wilkins said from the bench seat beside Lynne. Miles’s secretary then stood and hurried over to congratulate her employer, the man she idolized so much she was willing to do anything for him.

Even destroy evidence and lie under oath.

The courtroom erupted with movement around Lynne as people collected their things and left to enjoy the rest of a warm spring afternoon. She forced herself to turn, to look over at the chubby, light-haired eleven-year-old boy across the aisle. He stood next to his distraught grandmother while she spoke to the two detectives who’d gathered the evidence against Miles.

Lynne had overheard one of the members of Miles’s defense team remark on how unusual it was for a child—especially the accuser—to be present when the verdict was read. But she understood why the boy was here.

He’d wanted to see justice done.

At the bleak, dead look in his eyes, a primal scream rose in Lynne’s throat. She dropped her gaze to her hands, twisted tightly together in her lap, and clamped her lips shut. Damn it, if that poor boy was strong enough to survive not only being sexually abused by someone he’d trusted, but also the horror of having to testify about the unspeakable things Miles had done to him, then by God, she’d be that strong, too.

She had to be. For her own son’s sake.

Not guilty.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” Miles asked as he approached her, his blue eyes shining.

She curled her nails into her palms. From all outward appearances, Miles was perfect. Handsome. Successful. A man who shared his time and talents with those less fortunate. A successful businessman devoted to her and their young son, Jon.

“Lynne,” he demanded in an undertone only she could hear as he kept his grin firmly in place, “I want you to congratulate me. Now.”

Lynne got to her feet, her legs shaking, her stomach churning as she stepped into her husband’s outstretched arms. She put her arms around him, her hands still fisted as he kissed the top of her head, his fingers digging painfully into her waist.

She shivered.

He stepped away, a look of concern on his face. For the people around them. “Honey, are you all right?”

“Actually…” She cleared her throat. “I’m not feeling very well.”

“Can I get you a glass of water?” Allison Martin, the head of Miles’s legal team, asked.

“No. Thank you. I…I think it’s all just…catching up with me,” she said weakly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just take a moment to…freshen up.”

“Let me walk you to the restroom,” Miles said, touching her arm. She forced herself not to shrink from him.

“That’s not necessary. Why don’t I meet you in the car?” Before he could answer, she walked away, making sure to keep her movements unhurried as she went out into the wide hallway.

Inside the ladies’ room, she rushed into the last stall, not even able to latch the door before nausea overcame her. Falling to her knees in front of the toilet, she retched, emptying the meager contents of her stomach. When she was done she flushed and, trembling from head to toe, got to her feet and stumbled out. Gripping the edges of a sink, she looked at her reflection in the mirror.

Her hair fell past her shoulders, the professional highlights like strands of sunshine in the honey blond. Despite the sweat beading on her forehead her makeup was perfect, her sedate herringbone pencil skirt and matching fitted jacket were high quality, her shoes and bag worth more than most people made in a week. She looked exactly like what she was. A rich man’s wife.

Just what she’d always wanted to be.

She washed her hands, then snatched a few paper towels from the dispenser and soaked them in cold water. Pressed them to her face, careful not to smudge her makeup. Miles wouldn’t like that. Especially today.

He’d told everyone justice would prevail, that he’d be found innocent of the horrific charges leveled against him.

He’d been right and wrong. Because justice hadn’t prevailed. The jury hadn’t believed Miles had sexually abused that boy. They’d bought the defense’s claim that these allegations were a last-ditch effort on the boy’s mother’s part to extort money from Miles. To the jury, to everyone in their circle, Miles was a saint who’d been railroaded by the system and a confused young boy. They saw him as the victim.

But Lynne knew the truth.

She tossed the paper towels into the garbage, then cupped her hands under the running water and brought them to her mouth, rinsing out the acrid taste. She’d had such high hopes that Miles would be punished, that he’d be sent to prison, and she and Jon would finally be able to escape him. Her control shattering, she slid to the dirty floor.

Now they’d never be free.