Читать книгу His Permanent Mistress: Mistress Under Contract - Kate Hardy - Страница 17

You believe justice is more important than mercy

LUCY read the article again and again. As she sat in the café the pleasantness of the warm sunny morning passed her by. She stared at that morning’s paper—at the photo of Daniel looking every inch the aggressive lawyer in black and white. She marched back to his apartment, watched the television, surfed the Internet and even put on the radio for the national news station. Her blood began to boil as Daniel’s questions were quoted. Footage showed him striding out of the courthouse, stopping to address the media briefly on behalf of his client. Hotshot lawyer in defence mode shredding the complainant’s argument. It hit every mutinous button within her. She knew she shouldn’t have got involved with a guy like him.

Daniel climbed the stairs of the club with a feeling of extreme relief, completely forgetting his resolve to end it with her, he was so exhausted. All he knew was that in a few moments he’d be able to leave the case behind—just sit on his stool at the bar and watch her and relax in a way he’d never been able to before. He could hardly wait. Her eyes met his the minute he walked in and he knew she’d been waiting for him. But he didn’t get that wide, devilish smile. Instead she looked away again—fast. Something was up. He took his seat under the light. The one that was always empty because everyone knew it was his.

She banged the glass down in front of him, grabbed the whiskey and poured it in with a heavy hand, some of it sloshing over the rim to the bar below.

‘Actually I didn’t fancy a whiskey tonight.’

‘Really? Fine.’

To his utter amazement she picked up the glass and downed the contents in one gulp.

She hissed fire.

‘Call me astute, but I’m guessing something’s bothering you.’

‘You think?’ She banged the glass down. ‘What gives you that idea?’

He moved the glass out of her reach. ‘I don’t think we need any more accidents.’

‘No. We don’t. We don’t need anything more of anything.’

Daniel sighed inwardly. She was clearly spoiling for a fight, clearly choosing him as the opponent and, frankly, he couldn’t be bothered. ‘Look, Trouble, I’m not in the mood for figuring out what’s going on in your convoluted mind this evening, so if you have a problem just spit it out.’

‘My problem, Counsellor, is your case.’

‘You sound like you’re in a bad American legal drama. What do you mean, my case?’

‘What are you doing defending that creep?’

Daniel’s attention focused. OK. So this wasn’t personal. It was professional. Interesting. She wanted to argue about the case?

‘Creep?’

‘Yeah, the jerk who spiked that woman’s drink and then assaulted her.’

‘Ever heard of a thing called “presumption of innocence”?’

‘He’s not innocent.’

‘I didn’t realise you were judge and jury.’

‘Hmmf,’ she growled. Her hands shook. She was in a right rage. ‘Why are you defending him?’

‘Because I happen to believe he’s innocent. And even if it’s proved he isn’t, he’s entitled to good representation.’

‘By good you mean resourceful. Get him off on some technicality…or look for some legal loophole, some procedural slipup that renders half the evidence inadmissible?’

Daniel blinked, in a bit of a headspin. ‘No, I—’

She didn’t let him finish. ‘And what about the victim? You put her on the stand and tear shreds off her, right? Pry into her personal life? Cast shadows and doubt?’

‘Lucy, I…’ have had a really long day and don’t need this. But one look at her face and he knew he needed to straighten this out. He’d seen her cross, he’d seen her excited, but he’d never seen her looking hurt before—never this agitated. He didn’t like it.

‘Ever been a victim, Daniel? Ever known what it’s like to have someone come in and screw over your life?’

‘No. But…’ I’m guessing you have. He bit the words back. She was distressed, something must have happened and he wanted to understand, not upset her more. He stood, took her arm and marched her towards the office. ‘I think we need to continue this in private.’

She didn’t argue. Just pulled her arm roughly from his and stalked ahead into the room. He could hardly believe this was the woman who had launched on him in lust last night. She stood as far from him as possible. Arms barred tight across her body. ‘It’s so unfair. What woman would put herself through that—through the trial, have her life paraded in front of everyone—if he wasn’t guilty?’

He spoke calmly, quietly. ‘I have no doubt that something happened to her. What I doubt is whether they’ve caught the right guy.’

‘There’s a witness saying he was there.’

‘Him and half the city. There might be another explanation. Look, Lucy, my guy isn’t Snow White, but his line is burglary and car theft, not sexual assault. He’s not the sharpest tool in the box—he doesn’t have the smarts to pull something like this one off.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The cops got a match and patched the story together. It’s not a strong case, they shouldn’t have gone ahead with it because it’s not fair on anyone—let alone the victim—but I’m not going to see an innocent man go to jail.’

His reasoning didn’t stop her tirade. ‘You lawyers are all the same. Only in it for the money. I remember the law students sauntering round campus like they owned it in their flash clothes, drinking their expensive wine, thinking they were so sophisticated.’

‘Whoa, check out the size of that chip, Lucy. It’s not about money. Not for me.’ He had an inheritance. Money was never going to be an issue.

‘Really?’ she spat. ‘Is he paying you a mint?’

‘Actually he’s paying me nothing.’

That shut her up—for a moment. ‘You don’t know what it’s like. Victims don’t have a voice.’

‘Not true, Lucy. Not nowadays.’

‘The system is geared towards the defendant. When it’s he said versus she said, it seems like nine times out of ten they believe him.’ She paced the tiny room. ‘Are you putting him on the stand? Are you going to ask him all about his private life, his past, like you did her?’

‘We have to test the credibility of the witness’s evidence.’

‘Hers, sure. What about his credibility? He doesn’t have to get up there and face a scary inquisitor like you—she does. She’s the one who’s been through the wringer and you just make it worse. The bad guy gets to sit back and watch it all.’

‘We’re talking about a person’s liberty, Lucy. We have to err on the side of caution. Beyond reasonable doubt.’ Deliberately he kept his voice slow and low, forcing her to stop her pacing so she could hear him. Treating her as he would a fragile witness on the stand.

‘What about justice, Daniel? Look at the stats—the bad guys hardly ever get put away. You know this—not unless you have some solid scientific evidence. They never believe her. It’s always him.’

‘So what would you have—anarchy? Vigilantes retaliating who knows how violently in their code of justice?’

She looked at her boots. ‘Why don’t we tie a rock to him and toss him in a lake? If he sinks he’s telling the truth and if he floats he’s lying? You know, that worked for all those witches a couple of hundred years ago, didn’t it?’

He wanted to put his arms around her and cradle her—she was putting on the brave front but her eyes were over-shiny and her voice wobbled. ‘We work within the system, Lucy. I’m not saying it’s a perfect system, but it’s not bad. If we work at it, we can make it even better.’