Beauty Vs. The Beast. M.J. Rodgers
to see that no defeat marred her face.
“Your Honor,” Kay said. “I respectfully request a two-week continuance. As I have only received Dr. Steele’s case this last Monday, I am hardly prepared to—”
“Save your breath, Ms. Kellogg,” Ingle interrupted. “I’m not going to let your client’s dissatisfaction with prior legal representation delay this trial. I’ve had defendants play that game with me before. They change counsel every week and each new attorney demands a continuance. No. We will begin jury selection in this matter Monday morning.”
Once again, Kay spoke up. “Your Honor, the defense formally requests that all cameras and live media coverage be barred from the courtroom for the duration of this trial.”
“I protest, Your Honor,” Croghan immediately countered. “Trials are meant to be free and open to all the citizens—”
This time it was Kay who pounded her hand on her table, much to the surprise of Croghan, the judge and Damian—who joined the other men in openly staring at her.
In that resulting shocked silence, her soft voice carried very well. “Your Honor, I will not allow the plaintiff’s lawyer to turn this courtroom into a three-ring circus for live-action news. Dr. Steele’s spotless reputation and professional standing will be protected. Because if they are not, I promise that when we win this case—and we will win it—we will be filing a lawsuit against Rodney Croghan, his client and any and all other parties who would dare sanction such slander.”
Kay had made it clear that she meant Judge Frederick I. Ingle III as one of those other parties. Damian was amazed at the real threat that gentle voice could portray. And, he was even more amazed when he watched her smile sweetly at the judge after making her threat. The lady behind those bright blueberry eyes was just full of unexpected dimensions. He had yet to find one that disappointed him.
Judge Ingle didn’t seem all that disappointed, either. He looked at Kay as if with new appreciation for her fighting spirit. Then he raised his gavel, once again.
“No filming inside the courtroom,” he said simply. He followed his proclamation with a short rap.
“But, Your Honor—”
“Come now, Mr. Croghan,” Ingle interrupted. “With the kind of sensationalism this case will engender, you won’t be able to keep the news hounds at bay. Now, you two, listen up, because we play by the Marquis of Ingle’s rules in this court. I want a good fight, a clean fight. You’ll get no interference from the bench for surprise punches, but keep them in the legal zones. Nine o’clock Monday morning we’ll begin to impanel the jury. By ten o’clock Tuesday morning, I expect each of you to be ready to come out from your corners swinging your introductory remarks. May the best lawyer win. Court’s adjourned.”
* * *
“DAMN INGLE and his sudden need for literary acclaim,” Kay lamented. “His allowing the case to be heard was always a possibility, but his accepting Croghan’s feeble argument to extend the statute of limitations for filing was ludicrous, absolutely ludicrous. He’s just looking for colorful grist for the milling of his next novel. This case should never be going to trial.”
Kay threw the words over her shoulder as she charged down the King County Courthouse stairwell, doing her best to physically work off her anger. They had seven more flights to go and she knew she was going to need every one.
She heard Damian’s reply from behind her as he kept pace with her downward plunge. “At least you got the media barred.”
“From filming in the courtroom only. They still can have reporters flooding the spectator area. And you can bet Croghan is going to make sure they do. This is just the kind of unusual case they love to sensationalize. In addition to everything else, we’re going to have to be prepared for the press.”
“Are you really not ready to start Monday?”
“It’s certainly not when I would have chosen to begin. But we’ll manage. What will be critical is lining up defense witnesses in time.”
“How can I help?”
“You could start by contacting those two psychologists you told me about earlier this week, the ones you consulted with on Lee’s case. See if both will be available to appear in court next week.”
“What day?”
“Soonest would be Thursday. As you heard, Monday will be taken up with jury selection. Tuesday and Wednesday will most likely be the days when Croghan will be presenting the plaintiff’s case. He gave me a long list of potential witnesses, one hundred in all.”
“A hundred witnesses? You must be kidding.”
“No, but he is. It’s a ploy to try to overwhelm us, to use up all our energy tracking down these people to find out what they could possibly have to say. He probably won’t be calling more than a handful. Still, we have a full weekend ahead preparing even for that handful.”
“How can we know which ones will be included in that group?”
“We can’t know for certain. That’s why he made the list so long. Try to see if the two psychologists can keep Thursday and Friday open.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. Croghan has a psychologist on his witness list, a Dr. Upton Van Pratt. I doubt he’s a red herring. Recognize the name?”
“Upton Van Pratt is a past president of the American Psychological Association.”
“Damn. That alone will give him clout in the jury’s eyes. What else do you know about him?”
“If memory serves, I believe he’s retired now. I’m surprised he’s willing to testify in a case like this considering his standing. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“That’ll be helpful. I’ll also need a list of any books or articles he might have written.”
Kay checked her watch as she continued her trajectory down the last flight of stairs. “I have to talk to Lee Nye right away. This afternoon, if possible. Tomorrow, at the latest. Can you set it up for me?”
“Today is probably impossible. I’ll see what I can do for tomorrow. Your office?”
“Yes. The psychologists are important, but at the moment, Lee is our key defense witness. You’re sure he’s willing to testify on your behalf?”
“Last time I spoke to him. I can’t imagine anything that would have changed his mind.”
“How does he come across?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you think a jury will consider him a credible witness?”
“That’s hard to say.”
Kay came to an abrupt stop on the stairs and whirled. She hadn’t realized how closely Damian had been following her until they collided. He grabbed her shoulders to steady them both.
Kay felt the warm strength of his hands. She smelled the exciting clean scent of his after-shave. He felt good and he smelled good, and she knew the sudden breathlessness in her body had absolutely nothing to do with her rapid descent on the stairs.
They were so close, she could feel the warmth of his breath on her forehead. He was looking down at her, his thick, rich, dark brown hair haloed by the subdued overhead lights, the strong planes of his face shadowed, his eyes mere glints of green.
The blood began to beat far too loudly against her eardrums, silencing her fading thoughts. She drifted closer to him as though drawn by the insistent pull of some invisible magnet, her senses swimming with the drawing heat and scent of him.
Then, suddenly, the door to the upper floor was pushed open and voices rushed into the stairwell as the echo of several pairs of feet clattered above them, climbing to the next floor.
Kay started at the noise. The