Love at First Flight (31 page)

“What's that?”

“I thought you were about the sexiest
guy I'd ever met.”

His face lit up with delight. “Oh,
really?”

She traced his bottom lip with her
finger. “Uh huh. If I'd had time to think about it, I definitely would've been
afraid of you.”

“I think,” he said, capturing her finger
between his teeth, “what you need to be afraid of at this moment is whether or
not I'm going to jump you right here in the back of this police car.”

She pushed him away. “Stop!”

Michael opened the divider to talk to
the cops. “Hey, does this thing have a siren?”

“Sure does.”

“Can you use it? I'm suddenly in a big
rush to get home.”

“Michael!” Juliana said with a nervous
giggle as the cops laughed. “He's just kidding.”

“The hell I am.”

CHAPTER 26

THE TRIAL RESUMED MONDAY MORNING WITH A
MEETING of the attorneys in the judge's chambers.

“Here's how this is going to go,” Judge
Stein said. “The defense motion for a mistrial is denied—”

“But your honor—” one of the defense
attorneys protested.

“You do not want to interrupt me right
now. Your clients are attempting to make a mockery of the judicial system I've
served for forty years. I'm running low on patience.”

“Yes, your honor,” the chastened
attorney replied.

“Mr. Maguire, you're certain Ms.
Griffith is unable to appear in court?”

“She's been very sick. Her parents and
doctors are unwilling to permit it.”

“In that case, I'm going to allow the
prosecution to introduce the videotape of her testimony.” To the defense
attorneys he said, “Before you object, and you should feel free to do so in
open court, I know you can't cross-examine videotape. But it's a sworn
statement, so you can take it up with the appellate court. Finally, I want to
be sure you're all clear on one critical thing—there is to be no mention from
either side about the attack on Ms. Griffith. Not by inference, reference, or
any other means. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, your honor,” the attorneys
answered.

“Mr. Maguire, I'm sure there'll be a
mighty temptation to give the jury the impression that the defendants had
something to do with the reason Ms. Griffith is appearing before us on tape
rather than in person. Resist it or you'll not only be looking at a mistrial
but a complaint from me to the bar. No matter what you think happened in that
Annapolis hotel room, Marco and Steven Benedetti are
not
on trial for the attack on Rachelle Griffith and the police
officers. Not yet anyway and not in my courtroom. Keep your eye on the task at
hand.”

“Yes, your honor,” Michael said.

“Very well. We call to order in thirty
minutes.”

After they filed out of the judge's
chambers, Michael asked for a moment alone with Tom Houlihan. They found a
deserted conference room, and Michael closed the door.

“Everything all right?” Tom asked.

“No, but before I get into that, thank
you for the use of your house. It was a hell of a place to be stuck for a week.”

“I figured you'd enjoy it. You've
certainly earned the break. What's on your mind, Michael?”

Michael sat down at the conference
table, hoping he was about to do the right thing. “Urn, Juliana.”

“She's a lovely girl.”

“Yes,” Michael said softly. “She is.”

Tom sat down next to Michael. “What's
wrong?”

“She can tie Escalada to the trial.”

“What?”
Tom gasped.
“How?”

“Do you remember the day I finally asked
for police protection because someone on the street gave my room-mate the
creeps?”

Tom's eyes widened. “Escalada?”

Michael nodded. “When she saw the
videotape from the hotel on the news, she recognized him. She saw him in
Newport, too. He was trailing us, apparently waiting for an opportunity to take
me out.”

Tom rubbed his face as he processed it
all. “Who else knows this?”

“No one.”

“Except Escalada. He knows she can tie
him to the trial.”

The gravity of that statement hung in
the air between the two men.

“What do I
do
, Tom?” Michael asked with despera-tion. “I wanted to bring her
to court with me this morning so I didn't have to leave her at home alone.”

“Her detail is with her, and everyone's
on highest alert. I wish I could tell you not to worry...”

“If anything happens to her, Tom, I
swear to God, if anything happens to her...” Michael's voice broke.

Tom put a hand on Michael's shoulder. “She's
more than your roommate, isn't she?”

“If I get very lucky, she's going to be
my wife.”

“Is she the reason you and Paige broke
up?”

Michael shook his head. “I know you'll
find it hard to believe, but this happened after that was over. The timing
could've been better, but timing is secondary when the right one comes along.”

Tom studied him for a minute. “Here's
what we're going to do. Don't tell anyone about this. No one. We'll only
involve her if there's no other option. We'll figure this out after the trial
is over. Until then, I want her at home.”

Michael shook his head. “She'll never go
for that. Her job is too important to her, and she needs the money. But how can
I let her go to work and take care of her mother when they've got someone out
there watching her? Waiting for an opportunity to kill her? How can I do that,
Tom?”

“We'll double her detail—and yours.
We'll get a home health aide for the mother so Juliana only has to go to work.”

“We doubled Rachelle's detail, and look
what happened to her.”

“We'll do our very best to keep her
safe, Michael. I promise.”

Michael wanted guarantees his boss
couldn't offer. “Okay,” he said, wishing he could be with her every minute to
ensure her safety himself.

“It's almost over. Stay tough and stay
focused.”

“Have you ever had a case like this one
before?”

“Not in this lifetime.”

***

The jury filed in, and once they were
settled, Judge Stein apologized for the lengthy delay in the trial. “We
appreciate your patience and your sacrifice,” he said. “Mr. Maguire?”

Michael stood up. “Your honor, the
prosecution introduces as evidence the video testimony of Rachelle Griffith.”

“Objection,” a defense attorney said.

“Overruled. Please proceed, Mr. Maguire.”

Michael walked over to the TV and VCR to
insert the tape. He adjusted the volume and returned to his seat. Watching
Rachelle's animated face was like a punch to his gut as he wondered if the
attack would permanently snuff out her sparkle. With the judge's warning in
mind, he fought to keep his emotions off his face to avoid giving the jury any
hint of what happened to her. They were going to have to draw their own
conclusions as to why the witness was appearing on tape rather than in person.
That, coupled with the timing of the lengthy recess right when the
prosecution's star witness was due to testify, was exactly why the defense
requested the mistrial.

The tape was made about two months
earlier when Michael brought her to a courtroom to prepare her for the real
thing. Remembering her begging him to take her to McDonald's on the way back to
the hotel, he was so glad he had given in despite his worries about her safety.
She had been delighted to share a table with him in the restaurant while the
police detail surrounded them at other tables.

Off camera, he could be heard asking the
questions that guided her through the telling of her story. As he watched her
talk, he could see her affection for him in her eyes and hear it in the tone of
her voice. It was something he missed the first time around when he had been
engrossed in the asking of questions. Only a man who was blind, deaf, and dumb
could have missed the enor-mous crush she had on him, but sitting in the
courtroom fighting to keep his face devoid of emotion, he hurt all the way down
to his bones over how totally he'd let her down by failing to adequately
protect her.

He glanced at the defense table to find
Marco Benedetti's black eyes fixed on him. At just twenty years old, Marco had
the eyes of a hardened criminal.

Steven, a year older than his brother,
had been charged with murder once before but was acquitted. Michael didn't
believe for a minute that he was innocent of the earlier murder. With juvenile
rap sheets a mile long, the shootings elevated the brothers' pattern of petty
crime from misdemeanors to multiple felonies.

Marco's greasy hair was slicked back,
and when his face contorted into a small, evil smile, it took every ounce of
control Michael had to remain seated when all he wanted was to smash that smile
off his smug fucking face. Michael looked around, hoping someone else had seen
Benedetti's smile, but the entire courtroom was riveted to the television.

I
promise you, Rachelle. I promise they won't get away with it.
A fierce burst
of rage coursed through Michael. He was so consumed by it he failed to notice
the videotape had ended or that the jurors were deeply moved by it.

“Mr. Maguire?” Judge Stein said.

Michael didn't move.

“Mr. Maguire!”

Slowly, Michael rose to his feet. “Your
honor, the prosecution rests.”

***

At home, Juliana sat on Michael's bed
folding laundry. He had called and outlined the plan he and Tom worked out. She
wasn't at all confident that her mother would accept the help of a home health
aide, but she wouldn't have much choice. It was that or nothing since there was
no way Juliana could call on Vincent again.

She had been relieved to hear that she
would be able to continue working. Money was always an issue for her, and
despite offers of help from both Michael and Jeremy, she didn't feel right
taking money from either of them.

Thinking of Michael playing the video of
Rachelle if the judge allowed it, Juliana couldn't imagine how hard it would be
for him after seeing her so diminished in the hospital. Putting away clothes in
his dresser, Juliana found her rent check sitting on top of it and realized he
never cashed it. Her heart contracted with overwhelming love for him. He loved
her in such an all-consuming way, and he was going to need her to love him just
as much tonight after having to sit through that video.

A thump on the roof startled her out of
her thoughts. The wind was whipping, and Michael mentioned the night before
that he needed to bring the furniture in off the deck for the winter. A second
thump convinced Juliana that one of the lounge chairs on the roof deck had
blown over. She deactivated the alarm and went out through the sliding door to
investigate. Taking the stairs to the roof deck, she stopped short when all the
oxygen left her body in one big whoosh.

“Don't you dare scream,” Roberto
Escalada said in a low, sinister tone. “If you scream, you're dead. You got me?”

Juliana nodded as terror rippled through
her and robbed her of the ability to breathe, let alone scream. She couldn't
have made a sound just then even to save her own life, which was suddenly in
grave danger.

“Turn around and go back down.”

Juliana couldn't seem to make her legs
move.

“Now!”

She turned and on shaking lees went down
to the lower deck and opened the door to Michael's bedroom.

Escalada followed her inside and slid
the door closed behind him. “I thought you and lover boy were never going to
come home from wherever they had you stashed.”

Juliana sat on the edge of the bed and
willed herself to keep breathing as she trembled uncontrollably.

He took a look around the room. “So this
is where it all happens, huh? I bet you give it up to that mother-fucker
Maguire every night, don't you? You look like the kind of girl who likes to get
it on.” He came over to stand in front of her and leaned down so close she felt
his breath on her neck. “Maybe I should have me a taste of what he's been
getting.”

“No,” Juliana whimpered. “Don't touch
me.”

“Now that's not very friendly, Juliana,
and we're old friends, aren't we?” He ran a finger along her neck and jaw. “Is
that any way to treat a guest?”

She moved away from him, and he grabbed
her arm.

“Where do you think you're going?”

“There are cops everywhere,” she
whispered.

He laughed. “Cops haven't stopped me so
far, have they? Believe me, I'd love nothing more than to be halfway across the
country by now, but it occurred to me I'd left behind a juicy loose end here in
Maryland. You know I can't have you linking me to the trial, Juliana. My
clients wouldn't appreciate that.”