"Officer Stokes?"
Looking over the file in his hands, Nick was too distracted to look up. "I'm not an officer . . . ." He should have known someone he knew was trying to get his attention, because he was standing in the courthouse waiting for a trial to begin and he was wearing a suit, which unlike the vest he wore at crime scenes, did not have his name on it.
"Sorry . . . Mr. Stokes?"
"Yes?" There was a hint of impatience in his voice and he still had not looked up.
"Um . . . do you remember me?"
He raised up his head. From his perspective at almost six feet, he saw no one. Confused, he turned around, and then saw a little hand waving from just below his chest. He looked down and a smile broke out over his face. "Cassie McBride, of course I remember you!" he exclaimed, reaching out for a hug.
Gratefully, Cassie embraced him. She squeezed a lot tighter that he expected, but like him she was there for Luke Daniels' trial, and was probably very frightened.
When he pulled away and stood up, she asked, "Are you going to testify?"
"Yeah," he replied, wondering if she was supposed to testify too. "How'd you get here?"
"Sheriff Brackett brought me along," she replied, gesturing to him. "We're going to try to be here for the whole trial."
Nick looked up to see Sheriff Dennis Brackett standing just behind Cassie. He greeted the sheriff, solemnly shaking hands.
"Stokes," said Brackett, "how goes it?"
"I'm well. You?"
"We're plugging along," he replied cryptically, and Nick noted the somberness in his voice.
"That's good to hear. Listen, Judge Kaisershot doesn't like to start late, so maybe y'all should take your seats. I'll see you in there."
"All right," replied Brackett. "We'll see you around, Stokes."
"Bye, Mr. Stokes," whispered Cassie, waving. Nick waved back and turned, nodding to the bailiff who was just starting to order people into the courtroom for the proceeding.
When she was elected to her position at thirty-nine, Elizabeth Halles became one of the youngest district attorneys on record in Clark County, Nevada. A superior intellect had facilitated the early completion of the legal education that family tragedy had driven her to pursue. She worked as a deputy district attorney for eight years before becoming an assistant, and then, when scandal brought down one of the district court judges in the county, the DA ran for and won his seat. He then assisted Elizabeth in her campaign to be elected to the position he had vacated.
Strictly speaking, there was no reason she shouldn't have taken on the McBride murder case when it was extradited from Lincoln County. Her experience with that kind of violence was well in the past and she knew she could do the job she had been elected to do without issue. However, she was less certain of the affect the case would have on her, especially if Cassie took the stand. To be safe – and it was always best to be so with certain cases – she handed it over to the assistant DA in charge of criminal prosecution, and though she stayed hands-off, she made herself available and attended the proceedings.
She had worked with Nick Stokes many times. In fact, she was fairly sure she'd had some kind of interaction with every CSI in the department, and Stokes hadn't ever been much different from any of the others. All law enforcement officers were coached to deliver their testimony without emotion, only offering facts or explaining theories or processes with cold logic.
But the day he testified for the county against Luke Daniels, Stokes was different. While he delivered his testimony there was an edge to his voice and he wore an angry, arrogant smirk while answering some of the attorney's questions. At one point, when Stokes raised his voice and called Luke Daniels a little bastard, the presiding judge had no choice but to rebuke him.
"Mr. Stokes, control yourself."
It was all he said, all he needed to say, and even though Stokes glared back at him, he settled down considerably. Elizabeth was amused when Stokes was tempted to express himself on subsequent occasions to find him glaring back at the judge before catching himself, and speaking with more professionalism.
The day Luke Daniels' sentence was delivered, Stokes was in the courtroom again. It wasn't unusual for CSIs, detectives, or other officers to be present when a verdict was given, especially if the case was high-profile or had struck a particular chord. Most often Elizabeth saw this with cases involving children. But she was surprised to find Stokes sitting to Cassie McBride's left, with the Lincoln county sheriff on her right.
Elizabeth had never seen Luke's mother without a tear-stained face, and had simply never seen his father. Luke himself, during the trial, was silent, but when he stood to hear his sentence he began to shake, his eyes to water, his chin to quiver. The boy was petrified. His mother did not help his composure when she shrieked a repetition of Judge Kaisershot's ruling from behind her son, and then began abusing the judge for issuing it. Luke's legs failed him, he became physically ill, and his mother was removed from the courtroom.
Once she was gone, and order restored, all the judge said to the eerily quiet courtroom was, "Good luck, Mr. Daniels." He sobbed in reply, tissues pressed to his mouth. "The defendant will be remanded to the custody of the State of Nevada immediately. We're adjourned."
The sheriff, Stokes, and Cassie were lost in the ensuing sea of people and flashing cameras. Elizabeth, who was friendly with the bailiff, managed to get to him to wrangle his help in getting in contact with the little girl.
Some thirty minutes following the proceeding, the bailiff, Victor Morganstern, rapped gently on Sheriff Brackett's shoulder. He was talking to Stokes, who Morganstern recognized from his many appearances in court.
"The DA wants to see Miss McBride." It was not a request.
Brackett, caught off-guard by the bailiff's tone, became defensive. "What for?"
"She just wants to talk," replied Morganstern evenly.
Nick, knowing that the bailiff wasn't a talkative sort of creature, stepped in to help out. "I'm sure she just wants to say hello, Sheriff," he said soothingly. "Cassie, you wanna meet the district attorney?"
She looked vaguely interested. "Okay."
Nick held out his hand to Cassie and turned to Brackett. "Why don't I take her down – you give your wife a call and check up on her."
"All right," he replied. "Cassie, you gonna be OK with Mr. Stokes?"
Cassie nodded and took Nick's hand. Morganstern nodded his thanks and directed the CSI to the cafeteria on the lower level of the building before he moved to clear the courtroom.
"So how've you been, Cassie?" asked Nick as they headed down the hall, with more cheer than he felt.
"I'm okay," she replied, her voice somber. "What's a district attorney?"
Nick correctly assumed that this change of topic meant that she didn't want to chat. "The DA is in charge of the attorneys who prosecute criminal cases. Elizabeth is a very smart woman. She's probably the youngest DA in Clark County and she works very hard to put away bad guys." They headed down the stairs, around a few turns, and then walked into the cafeteria.
Nick approached the table at which Elizabeth was sitting, reading over a case file and sipping coffee. She gave a cursory glance upward at Nick. "Hello, Mr. Stokes," she said tiredly. "What can I do for you?" When Cassie peered out at her from behind Nick, she brightened. "Oh! Hello!" Taking off her glasses, she stood and stuck her hand out for Cassie to shake. "I'm Elizabeth Halles, the District Attorney. It's nice to meet you, Cassie."
Cassie shook her hand and smiled shyly. "Nice to meet you, too."
Elizabeth gestured to the other chairs at the table. "Have a seat. Thanks for coming to meet me." She offered to get the two of them something to drink, but both declined, so she closed her folder and set her glasses on top of it, then took her coffee cup in hand, sipping. "So, Cassie," she began in a more serious tone, "I wanted to talk to you because I was wondering-"
Cassie made a face and rolled her eyes. "How I'm doing?"
Both Nick and Elizabeth were taken aback by her sharp tone, and exchanged a surprised and worried look.
"No," said Elizabeth, looking back at the little girl. "I was wondering whether you understood the proceedings."
"Oh." Cassie looked down at the table, chastised by Elizabeth's kindness. "I'm sorry."
"It's all right," Elizabeth reassured her. "Did you have any questions?"
"Well. . . ." Cassie looked away a moment. "Why did Luke get so much jail time? He's not going to live for 120 years."
"Two reasons. First, he needed an appropriate sentence for each crime. He did something really bad; it stacks up. Also . . . it's partly to make sure he doesn't get out. We asked for the death penalty-"
Nick held up a hand to interrupt Elizabeth. "Hey – hang on a minute! That's a little too much information, don't you think?"
Elizabeth turned to face him, a calm and matter-of-fact expression on her face to counter Nick's look of concern and alarm. "No. Cassie's been through a lot and she deserves to have things explained to her so that she understands. It's disrespectful to talk down to victims, Stokes. You know that."
"She's eleven, Elizabeth."
"But I'm not stupid!" snapped Cassie, her face red. "I get it, okay? I understand he could've gotten the death penalty and since he killed my family I wish he would have!"
Nick looked back at her, surprised at her outburst. She was obviously very angry; he should have known. "I'm sorry, Cassie," he said quietly.
She put her head down, trying to hide her sudden tears. Nick exchanged another concerned look with Elizabeth and handed Cassie a napkin from the dispenser on the table. He placed a hand on her shoulder in an effort to comfort her.
She accepted the napkin and wiped her tears, her frustration evident. She looked up at Nick and thanked him, and then straightened up in her chair. Nick rubbed her back, patting affectionately.
"Should I continue?" asked Elizabeth, looking at Cassie.
"Yes, please," she said in a small voice. But before Elizabeth could do so, Cassie broke down again. "I'm sorry!" she sobbed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stokes . . . I'm just so tired of being treated like I'm too stupid to understand what happened to me. I was right there! I saw everything!"
Elizabeth moved one chair closer to Cassie, leaning over to embrace her. "It's all right, Cassie," she said soothingly. "I understand your frustration."
The look on Cassie's face said rather plainly that she didn't believe that statement for a second. "How could you possibly?"
"Because people did it to me," she replied. "When my mom and dad died, no one ever really talked to me about it. No one ever said what really happened around me. They used little words and talked in little voices they thought were soothing, and then gave me ice cream while they talked amongst themselves, saying what a pity it was and how they felt sorry for me."
Cassie examined Elizabeth's face for honesty before whispering, "What happened to your parents?"
The attorney could only answer matter-of-factly. "They were murdered."
"How old were you?"
"I was very young." Elizabeth had Cassie's attention. "Younger than you."
"Did you have any brothers or sisters?"
Elizabeth shook her head sadly. "No. It was just me."
Cassie, placated by this admission, asked, "Will you keep explaining some stuff to me?"
Elizabeth sat back in her newly-acquired seat. "Sure. I was saying that we asked for the death penalty for Luke because he pulled the trigger and he held the knife. When a judge decides what someone's sentence will be, for any kind of crime, they have to do research to find out how others have been sentenced for similar crimes in the past. It's called precedence. There isn't precedence for capital punishment for someone as young as Luke in a case like this, and we knew that, but we were looking for a heavy sentence."
"Have there been other cases like this?" asked Cassie dubiously.
"Not in Lincoln County, which is probably why Judge Kaisershot ruled the way he did. The other difference between this case and the other cases we've seen is that Luke didn't really mean to do what he did. He brought the gun to intimidate Jeremy, but things got out of control."
"That's usually what happens when guns are involved," said Nick.
"Do you have a gun?" asked the little girl of him.
"Yes, I do, and so does Sheriff Brackett, but it's for protection, Cassie. For ourselves and others. Besides, we're trained to use them."
She nodded. "How come there was only a trial for Luke?"
"There was a trial for the other two boys. It was held in Lincoln County and got a lot less attention because once they were arrested, they cooperated and they pled guilty. Mr. Daniels thought he could get less jail time by telling an elaborate story about how he knew what was going on, and went to the house to lean on your dad – for your sake, for his friend Jeremy's sake. And then things got political there in Lincoln County, so the case was sent to Clark County – to me."
"I was afraid everyone thought he was telling the truth. A lot of people think he was."
"Well, the good news is that in the end, it only matters what the jury thinks, and in this case, they obviously saw through Luke's lies. They were able to because of the work that Mr. Stokes and his team did recovering evidence from your house and from the boys. And also, because of your testimony."
Cassie didn't quite know what to say. Memories of that awful night kept coming back in little flashes, and she didn't want to talk about them anymore. She didn't want to have to keep repeating the story of what happened, didn't want to tell another person that she was okay, she was fine, she just wanted to be left alone. This actually seemed to be okay with most people, since she now lived in a house where no one looked at her sideways unless she did something wrong. Her eyes watered out of sadness and fatigue, and she looked up at Nick, hoping to find a comforting smile. Faithfully, he bestowed it, even though she couldn't return it.
Elizabeth continued. "Mr. Christianson, the attorney that you worked with from my office, said that you didn't want to testify until he said that if you didn't, it would be harder to put Luke in prison. I can only imagine how hard it must have been to get up there and talk about that night in front of so many people, so I want you to know that what you did was very brave. I work with a lot of victims who won't testify because they're too afraid, and most of them are adults."
"Were you scared, Cassie?"
She leveled her eyes at Nick, who asked the question. "I was . . . but you were there. It helped a lot to see you."
"You were brave," he reiterated, pleased that he had helped her in some small way.
"But I was scared," she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I wasn't brave."
"You are, Cassie," said Nick. "Being brave doesn't mean you're not scared. It means you do what's right anyway."
She was quiet a moment longer, swiping the tears off her cheeks. "Thanks, Mr. Stokes."
He winked at her. "Call me Nick."
Cassie gave in to a slight grin. "Okay."
"Do you have any more questions, Cassie?" asked Elizabeth.
"No, I don't think so," she replied.
"Well, if you think of anything, I want you to call me." She reached into her briefcase and extracted a pen and her business card. After writing on the back of it, she handed her the card. "No matter what, either here or at home. If I'm in court, I'll call you back."
Nick and Cassie said goodbye to Elizabeth, and then went back upstairs to wait for Sheriff Brackett. They found a bench to sit on, and when they had, Nick turned to Cassie. "I hope you don't hesitate to call Elizabeth," he said. "She seems like a meanie sometimes in court, but she's very compassionate."
Cassie nodded. "I liked her. She was nice."
"She told you the truth," said Nick. "I didn't realize . . . I thought maybe people would have been. . . ."
She shook her head. "It's the same every time I'm around people who know what happened. They look at me and then they turn and whisper. Even Sheriff Brackett does it with his wife."
"So did I," he said apologetically, "before we went to talk to the DA. I'm sorry, Cassie."
"It's okay. Most people just want to gossip. You wanted to know what's going on because you care."
He nodded in confirmation. "That's true – I do care – but Elizabeth was right. I know better than to talk down to victims."
"I don't want to be called a victim anymore, Nick."
He was struck by how sad she was, and recognized the exhaustion on her face. He remembered seeing that same exhaustion in the mirror and wondering whether he was sad because he was so tired or if he was so tired because he was sad.
"How are you sleepin', sweetheart?"
She looked up at him, surprised by the question. "What do you mean?"
"You look tired," he said. "I'm just wondering if you're sleeping okay." When she looked into his eyes and had no idea what to say, he knew he had struck a chord. He continued. "If you can't sleep well . . . if you maybe have nightmares sometimes . . . you could try leaving a light on. Maybe you can ask Sheriff Brackett for a night light."
"I don't live with Sheriff Brackett," she whispered.
Nick scowled a little. "When I left the hospital, he said he was going to take you in."
"He did. Mrs. Brackett didn't really want me there, though . . . she's Luke's aunt. And then when I went back to school things didn't really go well. My old friends started to ignore me and other people teased me, and I got into fights a lot because of Mark's cousins and Peter's little sisters. And then Mrs. Brackett got sick so they called some social workers and they found me a foster home instead."
"Oh." Nick was surprised; Brackett had not mentioned this major change in Cassie's life when he was talking to him about how she was doing. "Well . . . do you like it there? Are you making new friends?"
She shook her head. "Not really. There's a lot of kids there but they come and go all the time. It's always really loud there. Miss Emily, my foster mother, she's always pretty busy. But she lets me walk to the library when the older kids go into town."
"Where is the house? Maybe I can drive up on a day off to visit you."
Cassie's face turned red again, but she caught herself before she yelled at Nick. "You don't have to say that. Lots of people said that so far, and so far only Sheriff Brackett's done it, and he's only done it because of the trial."
"I'm sorry about that, Cassie, but please don't assume I'll do the same," said Nick calmly. Then he reached into his back pocket and fished out his wallet, extracting two of his own business cards. He pulled a pen out of his other pocket. "Write down your number for me here, and take this. I don't get a lot of time off, but when I get a day I'll call and we can catch a movie or something."
She hesitantly reached out and accepted the items from Nick, writing down her number. Once the cards were exchanged and the pen in Nick's pocket again, Cassie lifted her big blue eyes up to his. "Nick," she said quietly, "if I ask you a question, will you be honest with me?"
Nick nodded solemnly. "I'll always be honest with you."
"Pinkie-swear?" She held out her right pinkie.
He smiled, touched. He had never been asked to pinkie-swear to anything and in fact, in moments of pre-adolescent silliness, his five older sisters would actually refuse to make a pinkie-swear with him for the sheer joy of annoying their little brother. Solemnly, he linked his pinkie with hers. "Yes, I pinkie-swear, Cassie."
She pulled, and smiled a little; this time, it reached her eyes. "Okay. Here's my question. In jail, where Mark and Peter are, do you have to get tattooed?"
Nick wanted to laugh, but didn't. "No," he replied. "That's just a stereotype. And Mark and Peter, and soon enough, Luke, are not in jail. They're in prison."
"Do you get beat up in prison?" These words came out in a rush, and Nick suspected that this was her real question.
"Prison's not a nice place to be," he replied. "It happens, sometimes." This was the truth she was looking for; had Nick been talking to anyone over five foot six, he would have added his own opinion that Luke wouldn't make it a week before he sported a shiner. But these were not thoughts for the head of a pretty eleven-year-old who had best be getting on with her life, so he made an attempt to lighten the mood. "Now, if I ask you a question, will you be honest with me?"
She held out her pinkie. "I'll always be honest with you, Nick," she said as their fingers curled around each other. "Promise."
He pulled. "All right. Here's my question. D'you think this tie makes me look fat?"
Cassie laughed at him as he played with his neckwear, and he managed to make the smile stick for a few minutes longer until Sheriff Brackett came to retrieve her, and bring her back to her foster home.
(c) 2008 J. H. Thompson