Maxwell: Not Without Guilt (Phoenix Club) (16 page)

Abel shifted. “I didn’t have to pay those things. I was supplied an apartment by my boss.”

“I see. And did all the young men who worked at the club receive free room and board?”

“No.”

“What made you so special?”

The anxiety twisted him up tighter. “Nothing. Max was just trying to help us out. We didn’t have a place to stay, or money. And he had an empty apartment.”

“How convenient,” Tate murmured. “And you didn’t find it odd that the owner of a gay strip club would just set you up in your own place, gratis?”

Abel just stared at him.

“Gratis means free of charge.”

“I know what it means,” Abel said quietly. “And no, I didn’t find it odd. Max is a good man.”

Tate looked unconvinced. “I have to say, I personally wouldn’t put much stock in the morality of a strip club owner exploiting young, barely legal boys. Did he require any compensation for setting you up in the apartment?”

“Compensation?” Abel frowned.

“Did you perform sexual favors in return for the use of the apartment?” Tate asked bluntly.

Abel stared at him in shock. “No.”

“So, he just did it all out of the goodness of his heart?”

“Yes,” Abel insisted.

“And was it out of the
goodness
of his heart that he introduced you to Horatio Kaplan?”

Jensen stood up. “Objection. Relevance?”

Tate addressed the judge. “I am establishing the character of the defendant, and his predominant attraction to a sexual lifestyle.”

“My client’s career choice five years after the fact has no bearing on this case,” Jensen stated firmly.

“The character and inclinations of the defendant are indeed relevant,” Tate insisted with barely veiled vehemence.

“Jesse Evers –
Abel
– was barely thirteen years old when Craig Grant sexually assaulted him,” Jensen’s voice rose a few notches. “No
inclinations
instigated his
rape.”

“Objection overruled,” the judge stated, then looked at Tate. “Counselor, if you have a relevant point to make, then make it.”

♦

“W
here the fuck is he going with all this?” Cole muttered from the front row.

Max rubbed his eyes. He knew what the man was trying to do. If he could get the jury to see Abel and all the rest of them as immoral “whores,” then their testimonies would carry little weight as character witnesses.

“What did your business dealings with Horatio Kaplan consist of?” Tate asked Abel.

His lips tight, Abel looked nervous, uneasy. “I-I don’t know what exactly you’re asking.”

“What were you being paid for?” he stated stiffly.

Max wasn’t certain how Tate knew about any of this, but somehow attorneys always seemed to manage to dig up the dirt.

“He paid me to be his travel companion.”

Nice answer, Max thought. Surely Jensen had anticipated this line of questioning.

“So you weren’t hired as a prostitute?”

“I told you,” Abel murmured. “I was hired as a travel companion.”

Tate nodded. “Well that sounds all nice and innocent. But do you honestly expect the court to believe a multi-millionaire would hire a stripper to merely pal around the world with him, without expecting more?” Abel didn’t reply. Tate then asked point blank, “Did you have sex with him on any of these jaunts around the globe?”

Abel’s gaze darted to Horatio. Max glanced at the man as he just stared back at Abel, unaffected by Tate’s questions.

“We...we developed a close relationship,” Abel told him.

“An intimate relationship?”

“Yes.”

“But you weren’t being paid for the sex?”

Abel looked uncertain.

“Keep in mind that you are under oath,” Tate reminded, “and lying on the witness stand is an act of perjury. So I’ll ask you again – were you being paid for sex?”

Rubbing his lips together, Abel murmured, “He paid me for my company.”

“Of course he did,” Tate mused and Max would have loved to punch him just then. “And how much did he pay you to be his...
travel
buddy?”

“Five thousand per weekend,” Abel whispered.

“What was that?” Tate asked. “Please speak up.”

Abel pursed his lips. “Five thousand per weekend.”

Tate’s brow shot up. “Five thousand dollars? For a weekend? Wow. You must have been one amazing...
companion
.” Abel stared at him but said nothing. “What did you need that much money for?”

There was clear hesitation in Abel as he looked at Savannah; she had yet to tell Maddy about her condition, and it was obvious Abel didn’t want to make it known right here, like this.

“My sister,” he said softly. “She got sick. I needed the money for her medical bills.”

“She wasn’t eligible for state medical?” Tate asked.

“I...I wanted to take care of it myself,” Abel offered weakly.

“I see,” Tate’s brow pinched. “So you would rather sell your
companionship
services than simply put your sister on medical?” He gave a single shake of his head. “Seems rather odd to me.”

“She was my responsibility,” Abel murmured.

Tate smiled, but it lacked warmth. “Wasn’t the real reason you didn’t want to apply for medical – because you and your sister had taken on false identities? And you were flying below the radar, trying to keep out of sight of the authorities? Why else would you change yours and your sister’s names? When exactly did you assume new identities? Wasn’t it right after you ran away from the orphanage? After you murdered Craig Grant?” He looked at Abel, expecting an answer.

Abel nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said quietly.

“You claimed that you killed Craig Grant in self-defense because he refused to stop assaulting you. Isn’t that what you told the court?”

“Yes.”

Tate nodded and exhaled low. “Why didn’t you tell someone what he was doing?”

“He threatened me,” Abel spoke low, and Max could see him growing upset again now that they were back to speaking of Craig. “He threatened to hurt my sister. And he said no one would believe me if I did tell.”

“But there were good people working at the orphanage, weren’t there?”

“Yes.”

“And in two years, you didn’t once try to talk to any of them, tell them you were being abused?”

Abel lowered his eyes. “No.”

“Well, I would think that these good people, who worked daily with troubled and even abused kids – could have spotted that something was wrong.” He paused a moment, then added slowly, “If, indeed, something
was
wrong.”

Lifting his eyes, Abel frowned, puzzled by the man’s implications. Max leaned forward on his knees and glanced at Samuel, whose brow was knit tight as he watched Tate.

“When did you know you were gay?” Tate asked almost casually.

Able shrugged. “Uh...I guess...” He licked his lips slowly. “When I was almost twelve.”

“Just before you were sent to the orphanage?”

“Yes.”

“You were going on thirteen when you arrived at the orphanage,” Tate said. “Entering puberty. Did you experience any desires for other boys?”

Abel shifted uneasily. “I suppose,” he murmured.

“And isn’t it possible that you perhaps felt just a little
special
when Craig Grant began to show you attention?”

“What?”

“Are you sure that Craig Grant wasn’t just trying to do his job and help you? And coming from a home of neglect, as well as being consumed with new sexual desires – isn’t it possible you misread Craig’s level of
interest?
An interest that you craved, that you needed? You just wanted to be loved, didn’t you? And you got it in your head that Craig Grant loved you, because of the care he showed you? And isn’t it more probable that in your troubled state of mind, you took his life because he
refused
to engage in intimate relations with you – rather than because he forced himself on you?”

“No,” Abel trembled, face pinching as tears welled and spilled down his cheeks.

“It’s understandable,” Tate went on, a level of compassion in his voice. “You just wanted to be loved, for once in your life. Your parents didn’t love you; you had never known the security and love of an adult figure. And then Craig comes along, shows you that he cares, that he’s there for you...and in your fractured mind, you take it for love. But then he rejects you as well – when you try to take your relationship beyond friendship. And that hurt, didn’t it? To be cast away yet again. And that kind of hurt easily transfers to anger. You were angry with him, weren’t you? Perhaps he passed you off to a different counselor and started showing another kid special attention. That had to hurt. You wanted to make him pay, didn’t you? To hurt him as bad he had hurt you?”

Abel hugged himself, crying, shaking his head.

“It’s okay. You were lonely, scared, neglected. Life had dealt you an unfair hand and you were just playing it the best you could. Anyone can understand that. And when you finally broke and took Craig’s life – you took your sister and you ran. You ran because you knew you were guilty of murder...not self-defense.”

“No!” Abel cried. “That isn’t how it happened!”

“Isn’t it, Jesse?” Tate murmured. “Isn’t it possible that you couldn’t handle the reality that you took an innocent man’s life, and you built up this image of a monster in your head? Convinced yourself that he hurt you and you had no choice but to do what you did? And you told yourself this for so long that you began to believe it? That your memories began to shift and coincide with the fabrication? Isn’t it
possible
that that is how it happened?”

Abel stared at the man, wide-eyed, tears running down his cheeks – and uncertainty etched across his face.

♦

N
o, baby
, Devlin thought.
Don’t let him fuck with your head like that.
His heart broke as he stared at Abel – suddenly at a loss, doubting the authenticity of his own memories.
Put me on the stand. I’ll set that fucker straight
.

Tate wasn’t finished. The false emotion he pushed into his voice boiled Devlin’s blood – as if the man gave a fuck.

“And isn’t it possible,” Tate went on. “That this need to be loved, to be accepted and desired, is what led you to the very type of job in which you solicited the lust and desire of men? This craving that was in you from the beginning? All the way back to Craig Grant? And the very fact that you are now dating Craig Grant’s
brother
...is this really a coincidence? Or is it possible that you subconsciously sought him out? Perhaps out of guilt? Or possibly because there is still some part of you that desires Craig’s affections, and his brother is the closest you can get to the real thing, to make amends for your crime?”

Abel ducked his head, crying softly, arms squeezing his body.

“That
motherfucker,”
Cole hissed.

His hand shaking, Devlin wiped the tears from his face as he wished to God he could turn Cole loose on the bastard.

Jensen stood up. “Objection. This is all speculation. Mr. Tate is an attorney not a psychiatrist. There is no evidence to support his
theories
.”

“Just one more question,” Tate told the judge. “And then I will be through.”

The judge looked skeptical, but nodded. “Go ahead.”

Tate turned to Abel, his voice softened. “All that I’ve suggested here today, Jesse. Isn’t it at least
possible
that that is how it really happened?”

Abel’s brow pinched hard in confusion as he stared at his lap, tears coursing down his face.

No, baby, no. You’re not confused. You’re right – he was a monster.

Trembling, Abel choked out brokenly, “I don’t know.”

Tate stepped back and nodded. “No further questions.” He walked back to his table with a look of satisfaction.

“Do you have any added questions, Mr. Taylor?” The judge asked.

Jensen shook his head. “No, your honor.”

The judge looked at Abel. “You can step down.”

Abel left the witness stand, arms still wrapped around himself, his walk unsteady as he returned to the table. Cole was on his feet and reached across the barrier, wrapping the boy in his arms. He kissed his hair, whispered something to him that Devlin couldn’t hear, then released him and sat down again as Abel took his seat as well. Jensen spoke to Abel, then straightened up when the judge told him to call his next witness. Jensen stood. “I’d like to request a ten minute recess to prepare my witness, Savannah Sims.”

The judge looked at the young girl, in tears and huddled against Cole. He nodded. “Granted.”

♦

J
ensen would blast the bastard out of the water, Horatio knew that for a fact. But it still hurt having to watch Abel go through this shit, to question his own memories of past events. The confusion would surely be short lived, as there were enough witnesses to substantiate Craig’s sexual preference for young boys. But Tate would likely play his mind games on as many of them as possible, including Savannah and even Devlin, in an attempt to create reasonable doubt with the jurors. But Jensen was experienced with such tactics.

When Horatio realized his gaze was lingering on Max, he looked away, then stood and left the courtroom. His head was so fucked up. If he could just board his jet and get the hell away from here, maybe it would clear. If he could be alone with Seth, on the other side of the world, actually start a new life...then maybe, finally, the memories of Max would recede. But as long as he kept the documents, they would tie him to Max, to what could have been if they had just known the truth. But the truth had come to them too late. Other hearts were involved now. Innocent hearts. It was just time to accept that, despite everything he now knew, his time with Max was over long ago.

He walked out to the front of the building and sat on the same step Seth and Max had been sitting on earlier. His eyes filled as the street and passing cars blurred and distorted, and he took out his phone and called Seth. When the young man answered, he hesitated, then said thickly, “I need you to do something for me. There’s some papers in my safe, in an envelope.” He faltered, his throat working as tears drained down his face. “I need you to take them and...and shred them for me.” After relaying the combination to his safe, he closed his phone and dropped his head in his hands, crying softly.