wanted her. And the more he had of her, the more he wanted.
It wasn’t supposed to work that way. It was supposed to have the opposite effect. He should be getting cured, not more highly infected with the Lucy bug.
He looked at his schedule. He was double-booked again. How was he supposed to give a talk at the law school at the same time the Judge was due to sum up? He checked his emails. The Law Society wanted him to prepare a paper. He glanced at his in-tray—neat, orderly, but still overflowing. Time. He didn’t have time to do all of this and he wanted to. And now he felt as if there was more he wanted. She’d done something to him, made him feel as if he was missing out. He pulled paper towards him in irritation. Missing out on what? He didn’t want or need someone warming his bed at night. He would not, could not, become dependent on anyone—least of all her.
She’d told him from the start she didn’t stick around any place for long and he knew too well the bitter taste of abandonment. He’d witnessed his father’s descent into an insular, workaholic world once his mother had walked out. Daniel too had been lacerated by her lack of interest—her lack of love for a son who’d been stupid enough to believe in the whole ‘happy family’ thing. He’d never risk being that vulnerable again, certainly never make the same mistake as his father and rely on another like that.
He was having a fly-by fling with Lucy. That was all. Not a relationship. Relationships always ended.
But her presence in his home threatened his peace. His carefully built life was starting to crumble—there were gaps where there should be walls. And Lucy was the one holding the sledgehammer.
He was going to have to get rid of her.
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,