Beyond Innocence Page 3

  “I’ll say yes, under one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “Negotiate the best possible outcome short of a full-blown hearing. I don’t want this to drag on. I want to put it behind me as quickly as possible. I’ll do whatever it takes, as long as there’s no permanent suspension.”

  Melinda opened her mouth, but Cory held up a hand, palm out. “Say yes. I mean it.” Melinda lifted her wine glass and touched it to Cory’s. “Fine. You’re the client. But promise me you’ll keep an open mind.”

  “Deal.” Easier to say what she wanted to hear than argue the point. Quick and easy. The faster this was over, the faster she could resume her life. Right now, all she wanted was a big plate of Thai food and something stronger than the glass of wine in front of her.

  As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Melinda reached for her purse, and then shoved a couple of twenties into Cory’s hand. “Tip him big. Someone should have fun tonight.”

  Cory headed for the door, wondering if she’d ever have fun again.

  Chapter Three

  Serena had spent the last several weeks trying her best to contain the seething mix of emotions she’d brought back from Texas. She’d worked hard to defy the odds of her past and become the first of her blood relatives to graduate from college, hold a steady job. Her achievements were a credit to her ability to compartmentalize her life. No one at the credit union where she worked knew more about her than she cared to show. One simple, framed photo on her desk was the only allusion to her personal life. Don and Marion Clark hugged their adopted daughter on the day she graduated from college, the pride on their faces beamed off the page. Serena loved the photo for the journey it represented. From the projects to the middle class. From a junkie mother and no known father to the care of two individuals who’d sacrifice anything for her happiness. The framed picture was an anchor that kept her from drifting back to her roots.

  But her roots still had pull. Her birth mother was long dead. She’d never known any of her other blood relatives. Eric was the single thread connecting what she’d become to what she’d been. And his days were numbered.

  Serena reached into her purse and pulled out a small notebook. On one of the pages were the copious notes she’d taken when she met with Ian Taylor, the attorney who’d been appointed by the court to represent Eric on his direct appeal. That part of the appeal process had been exhausted, but armed with the information she’d gleaned from him and the newspaper article about the Innocence Project that she’d devoured on the plane, she had plenty of ideas. She spent the time since she’d returned from Texas working hard to put a plan in motion. She knew it was a bad time to take off work again, but she needed to make another trip to Dallas.

  She touched the intercom button on her phone. “Nancy, would you see if Mr. Rutgers is available? I need a few minutes of his time.”

  As she left her tiny, neat office, she glanced at the space where she spent so much time. As head teller, she’d achieved stability, which is all she thought she’d ever wanted. Over the years, she’d been offered various promotions, but she’d politely declined positions further up the ladder, content to trade security for what others perceived as success. This space and her small apartment down the street were all the success she thought she wanted.

  Rutgers’s office was the polar opposite of hers. The bank president’s desk was cluttered with pictures of family and children’s clay artwork. Whatever couldn’t be identified as an ashtray or pencil holder, served as a paperweight. The desk was full of paperweights. Serena looked around the room and swiftly calculated that, unlike her, it would take him hours to vacate his office. Of course, he wouldn’t ever need to. Time to get to the point of her visit.

  “Mr. Rutgers, I need a favor.”

  “Have a seat, Serena. And please, call me Jerry. There’re no customers here.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Rutgers.” She did sit, but perched on the edge of her chair.

  “You want some coffee, water?” He smiled. “Something stronger?”

  She smiled back, because she knew he expected it. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine. You look like you’re here to deliver bad news.”

  “Depends. I need another few days off. I realize this isn’t a good time, and I know I just took time off a few weeks ago, but it can’t wait.” She had plenty of vacation time accrued, since she rarely took time off, but they were short-handed and she knew he depended on her to take up the slack. She didn’t expect his reaction.

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Maybe I can help.”

  “I appreciate the offer. Really, I do, but this is something personal. Private. I hope you understand I need to take care of it on my own.”

  The organization she’d contacted, an offshoot of the Innocence Project, had explained the process, and they’d come to an agreement about Eric’s case. She would hire an investigator to do the groundwork on Eric’s case, and the clinic would handle the legal work, pro bono. The clinic director suggested she come to Dallas, meet with the staff, and they would help her locate an experienced investigator. She had a flight reserved for first thing in the morning, and she hoped the process would only take a couple of days, but even if it took longer, she was committed to making sure Eric received every last chance she could make available to him.

  “Are you okay?”

  The question caught her off guard, partly because her sudden departure wasn’t about her. “It’s a family thing,” she said. And it was. Eric was her family. First, last, always. She hadn’t been there for him when he needed her most, but she would make up for her absence with every ounce of determination she possessed.

  As if he could hear her thoughts, Rutgers echoed. “Family is important.” He crossed his hands and scrunched his brow. “I respect your desire for privacy. Go. Do what you need to do. We’ll miss you desperately, but family comes first. Your commitment to your family reflects the commitment for your job. We need people like you, and we’ll still need you when you return.”

  Serena endured a few more minutes of small talk before she was able to gracefully exit. She was grateful for his compassion, but uncomfortable sharing details about her personal life. She supposed she’d have to get over that if she was going to do Eric any good.

  *

  Cory held a suit in each hand, uncharacteristically unsure about her wardrobe. She’d spent the last month in sweats and jeans, rarely leaving the house for anything except groceries.

  Melinda had called the night before and told her to dress for court and be ready to go at eight a.m. sharp. She hadn’t slept, and being awake all night hadn’t improved her decision-making ability. Part of the problem was not knowing what to expect. She and Mel had spoken a few times over the past couple of weeks, and she’d made a point of emphasizing her desire to conclude the disciplinary matter without the need for a full-blown hearing. Each time, Melinda muttered a vague response, but when pressed, assured her she would respect her wishes. Telling her to be dressed for court didn’t sound like avoidance, but Cory held out hope. Maybe they were going to a preliminary meeting with the hearing examiner. That could be short and sweet, she hoped. Cory wasn’t in the mood to rehash. She only wanted to take her licks and move forward.

  The doorbell rang. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. Quarter to eight and she still wasn’t dressed. Melinda would have some explaining to do while she waited.

  Cory swung the front door wide and announced, “Come on in and occupy yourself. While I’m figuring out what to wear, you can explain what you have planned.”

  “I think you look great in what you have on.”

  Cory blinked. Julie, not Melinda stood in her doorway. Cory looked down at her tattered University of Texas T-shirt and faded jeans, as a way to avoid the glint in Julie’s eyes. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.” Both the question and the statement were delivered with a whisper. She hadn’t seen Julie since that morning in the courtroom. S
eeing her now released all the feelings she’d managed to box away. “Come in.” She grabbed Julie’s arm and pulled her into the foyer.

  Julie pulled her close, hugging her tight, her hands roaming. “I’ve missed you. You haven’t called. I’ve been worried. I haven’t seen you since the hearing and even then you were gone so fast I didn’t get to talk to you.”

  Cory didn’t trust the words, but she wanted to. She’d purposefully avoided any contact, didn’t want to open the connection and risk all that came with that. For sure she didn’t want to risk it now. Still, Julie had noticed her at the hearing, noticed she’d made a quick exit. The revelation gave her cautious hope. She kept her answer simple. “I’m fine.”

  “Sure you are, but still, I worried.” Julie pushed gently away and examined her from head to toe before pulling her back into a tight embrace. “You look great. Comfortable. Don’t get too used to casual. You’ll be back in no time. We need you.”

  Again with the “we.” Do you need me, Julie? Cory wouldn’t ever ask the question out loud. Wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. She’s here. That means something, doesn’t it? “I don’t know when it will be. Things aren’t settled yet.” Cory glanced at the clock again. “In fact, I have to get dressed. My attorney will be here any minute. She’s picking me up for a meeting.”

  “A meeting? With who? And she’s picking you up? Pretty personal service, don’t you think?”

  Cory took on the last question because it was the simplest to answer. “My car’s in the shop.” Thank goodness. Otherwise, she’d be forced to make up some lie to respond to the “with who” and details about the “meeting.” She didn’t have a clue what Melinda had planned for the morning, but no way did she want to let Julie know how far she’d fallen from taking personal responsibility for her life. She’d stopped doing that the moment she’d fallen under Julie’s spell.

  “Bummer. Hate not having wheels. Well, I’m sure you’re paying her out the nose, so the least she can do is pick you up.” Not a trace of sympathy that Cory had to hire an attorney in the first place. Cory filed the observation away for future examination. The ring of the doorbell interrupted any further conversation. “Damn. That’s her and I’m not even dressed yet.”

  Julie looked around, a hint of panic in her eyes.

  “You can go out the back door, but if you parked in front, she’s still going to see you. Don’t worry. She’s not going to rat you out.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m just a colleague, dropping by to check on another colleague.”

  We were never colleagues. Cory stepped to the door. “Thanks for stopping by. To check on your colleague. She’s fine.”

  Julie walked to the door, kissing her cheek as she passed. “I really can’t wait until you’re back. Things will be better for both of us. I promise.”

  Maybe they would. Cory tried not to think about how much energy she’d expended thinking that over the course of their relationship. She swung the door open and held a finger to her lips when she saw Melinda about to burst into a fit of scolding. “Melinda Stone, Julie Dalmar. Julie was just leaving and I’m going to get dressed. Coffee’s in the kitchen.” She strode away quickly before either woman could ask her any more questions.

  Ten minutes later, outfitted in a sharp black suit, she walked into the kitchen.

  Melinda looked up from her steaming cup of coffee. “Black, huh?”

  “Considering that we’re probably headed to my funeral, I thought it was appropriate.”

  “Oh ye of little faith.” She set the coffee cup down and grabbed her purse from the counter. “Come on, we’re late. I’ll explain in the car, but first you’re going to have to explain what Julie Dalmar was doing at your house first thing in the morning.”

  Cory read the real question in Melinda’s eyes. “She didn’t spend the night if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I was. But she has before, am I right?”

  Technically, no. Julie always left before dawn. She could only sleep in her own bed, always had an early morning, didn’t want to keep Cory awake by tossing and turning. None of her excuses explained why she never invited Cory to her place. As always, Cory ignored her desire to push for answers. She spent her professional life asking questions, but in her personal life she found it was fairly easy to gloss over personal curiosities.

  Melinda, on the other hand, never let up until she got answers. Cory hoped she could get away with being thin on detail. “We’ve slept together, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “That’s exactly what I was asking. Don’t you think that complicates things? Didn’t she work with you on the Nelson case?”

  “Don’t go there.”

  “I will go wherever I think I need to. She’s your boss, right?”

  “She was my boss. She’s not my boss now.” Cory knew she was mincing words again, but the distinction was important for a number of reasons.

  “I need to know everything in order to properly defend you.”

  “I don’t need defending. What I need is to put this whole affair,” Cory winced at her own poor word choice, “behind me. Tell me what you have planned for this morning and I’ll let you know if I’m up for it. Last I remember, the client gets to call the shots. Right?” She fixed her face into a neutral expression and waited out Melinda’s scrutiny. Finally, Melinda shook her head and acquiesced to the change in subject.

  “Sure. Whatever you want. I’ve worked out an arrangement with the hearing examiner. You’ll perform some community service restitution and the case will be dismissed. You’ll have a note about the sanction on your record until the restitution is complete and then it will come off and you’ll be free to resume your regularly scheduled programming—putting bad guys away.”

  Could it really be as simple as that? Cory jumped on the plan. “Sounds great. I’ll take it.”

  “You sure about that? You don’t get to pick your own community service. The bar does—take it or leave it. If you’ve got some good defenses to raise at a hearing, you should consider that route, but I can’t help you make that decision unless you talk to me about exactly what happened with the Nelson case.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” Cory wasn’t going to fall into the trap of discussing her personal life. Melinda was one of her best friends, but she didn’t trust her to put aside her lawyer role in favor of friendship. Someday they’d share the story over cocktails. When this whole ordeal was way behind her. “So if there’s no hearing, where are you taking me?”

  “Call it incredible service, but I’m escorting you to your first day of community service.” Melinda turned into a parking lot and gestured at the building ahead.

  Cory couldn’t tell anything about the place from the outside, but she was anxious to get inside and get started. The sooner she could put this behind her, the sooner she could find her way back to normal. Whatever that was.

  Chapter Four

  “Are you sure you have everything you need?”

  Serena shook her head. Her adoptive parents had been asking that question her entire life and had taken whatever steps were necessary to make sure all her needs were met. In the fifteen minutes they’d stood at the ticket counter, Marion had offered her chewing gum, Kleenex, spending money—everything a mother could offer her child short of taking on the task herself. Yesterday, at lunch, she’d come close to offering that. Today, she renewed the offer. “I can still go with you, if you want.”

  “Thank you, but no. This is something I need to do on my own.” She softened the rejection with a smile. “Besides, who knows how long I’ll be gone? Dad would be lost without you for more than a couple of days.” She closed her eyes as they hugged her tight. She knew they would do anything for her, but Eric wasn’t their problem. Handling Eric’s troubles was something she had to do on her own. “I’ll keep you updated.” The promise was all she could offer.

  As she drew back, Don pressed a small envelope into her hand and waved off her immediate protest. �
��Take it, or we’re boarding that plane with you. We insist.”

  Serena didn’t need to open the envelope to know the cash contents would be generous. She’d come to expect, but never take for granted, the Clarks’ generosity. They’d been in their late thirties when they’d gotten the news they would finally have a child. When she stepped off the plane at the Orlando airport with the advocate from the adoption agency, she’d been overwhelmed at all the sensations and didn’t even notice the anxious couple whose arms were laden with stuffed toys. It was months before she felt comfortable enough to accept anything they offered over and above food, clothing, and shelter. They’d quickly learned to respect her boundaries, but she’d never wanted for anything during the years she’d lived under their roof. Her life with them was not extravagant by any means, but it was a stark contrast to her early childhood when she wore the same two dresses to school, day after day, and dinner was often a watery version of the soup she and her brother had shared the night before.

  “Thanks. I better get going. I’ll call you when I get settled. And I promise I’ll keep you posted.” Serena started to move toward security, but the expectant looks on their faces prompted her to give them each a quick hug. Marion’s eyes got misty, and Serena took off before their quick good-bye dissolved into an emotional display.

  She devoted her time on the plane to rereading all the materials she gathered about the Innocence Project, the organization she’d read about in the paper the day she’d left Dallas to head back to Florida. The organization she’d contacted, the Justice Clinic, was an offshoot of the project, working in conjunction with Richards College, a university law school in Dallas. The information online billed the clinic as being fully staffed with experienced counsel and it provided an opportunity for third year law students to gain exposure to the criminal justice system. Unlike the Innocence Project, which only accepted cases where DNA evidence was available that might exonerate a defendant, the Justice Clinic accepted cases where guilt was at issue based on various types of erroneous evidence, like unreliability of eyewitness testimony. Similar to the national program of the Innocence Project, the clinic had become inundated with requests for assistance, and the waiting list for case review was long. However, death penalty cases rose to the top of the list, and Eric’s appellate lawyer, Ian Taylor, had paved the way for Serena to speak to the clinic’s director about her situation. Together, they’d worked out an arrangement she’d reached for the clinic to take Eric’s case without a fee.