Cross-Examination

Common Law

Chapter four

A/n: Hello again, everyone! BrokenSky49 and I thank you profusely for your patience thus far in this story. I hope you enjoy chapter four, five and six are on their way!

Investigatory Grand Jury: A judge, constitutional state referee or any three judges of the Superior Court, appointed by the Chief Court Administrator to conduct an investigation into the commission of a crime or crimes.

Beta: BrokenSky49

Wes Mitchell drove the familiar, old path to his home—his former home. In the passenger seat was not his wife, but a simple briefcase and a jacket. He was not driving to go home and sleep, he was driving to collect information, and work. He was not going to ask about family or what was for dinner, but about a criminal. He was not coming as a friend, a lover, or a husband. He was coming as a cop.

He would be curt; he would stand his ground and press his case. Wes had learned and was learning ways to integrate his time as an attorney with his job as a detective. Alex—Ms. MacFarland—would put up a fight, for sure. She was a hard-headed, no-funny-business lawyer who wasn't going to put up with anyone's begging or crying.

On the other hand, Wes remembered, she was a beautiful, funny, sweet, and undeniably sexy woman who used to be his wife. Wes let his eyes slip shut as his car slowed to a stop before a pending red light. He remembered everything about her, still. From the way her shampoo smelled to the way she smiled at him over a badly told joke to how peacefully she slept, Wes remembered it all. A woman like her moved on after a bad marriage. Wes, however, was still reeling, still hoping. Still dreaming.

"C'mon, man, suck it up." Wes spoke to himself, breaking the unanswerable silence. He craned his neck until he heard comforting popping noise. He did the same with the other side of his neck until he felt more relaxed. That's all he needed to be. Relaxed.

Ring!

The sudden noise startled Wes so much that his hands clamped the wheel. Cursing, he swerved his car back into the correct lane and peered down at his loud phone.

Travis Marks.

"No way." Wes scoffed, shaking his head. He wasn't going to talk to Travis right now. Not right before he saw Alex. He was trying to act normal. Travis would just annoy him with his carefree arrogance or dumb question or, perhaps he was prank-calling Wes.

No, Travis was definitely going to voicemail.

"Wes, my man, hey…I'm just, you know, checking in on you. Wanted to see if you're actually doing your job or if you chickened out. I'm guessing you're parked outside her house, freaking out. If I'm right, just text me back. I won't even care what. Okay. See you later."

Wes processed the message, and then, when Travis's smug tone flew from the car like the whispering wind, he deleted the message. Screw Travis and his ignorance. Wes was going to get his job done. Unlike Travis, he was prompt.

As he neared the modest home, Wes eased up, slowing down. He always drove too fast. He was always in a hurry. Alex had always told him to be more measured with his time, to take it all in. She was right. Again.

A lovely flower garden greeted Wes, and he parked his car gently. He always tried to be gentle with his car, but his car was inanimate. Other things he wasn't so gentle with. He hadn't been gentle enough with Alex.

They had argued over how many times a month to weed the flowers.

They had argued over Alex's favorite blossom. Of course, Wes knew she loved peonies, or so he thought. She had become more of a lily person.

They had argued over whether the trees needed to be watered.

Stupid, stupid things had led to Wes signing those papers. Alex had had enough. Did he blame her? Did she blame him?

There she was, Alex. He could see her through the window, peering into the refrigerator. Slim, yoga tights clung to her legs as she inspected the frozen food. Had she been running? No, she always put her hair up when she exercised. Wes was lost in her essence. Had he really yelled at her this morning? Damn his temper, always getting the best of him. Damn Alex, for taking the best of him when they separated.

He grabbed his jacket and got out of his car, slipping on the coat and locking the door. He wanted this to be quick, so he could be done wallowing in guilt. He was pathetic, he truly was.

For almost seven at night, the sky was unnaturally light, another indication of the summer that was here and to come. Heat rippled all around Los Angeles and the rest of the country, forest fires ravished Colorado-

Okay, now he was just avoiding the subject. Buttoning his suit, Wes quickened his pace and knocked confidently on the front door. He had painted this door.

They had agreed on the color.

He was already breaking a sweat. Again with the heat, Wes.

Seconds went by. No answer. Rolling his eyes, Wes knocked again, one hand impatiently placed on his hip. He knew Alex didn't like to rush things, but he wasn't Alex.

"Coming!" The door flew open, and a flustered Alex stared at Wes in surprise. Wes raised a hand in greeting before letting it fall loosely to his side. He was going to knock again with that hand.

"I should have known it was you," Alex tucked a strand of brunette hair behind her ear. "You knocked almost a hundred times."

"I knocked six times." He corrected.

"Right," Alex rolled her eyes with a slight smile. Damn that smile. He wasn't going to fall for her cuteness. He needed information.

But first he would wait for her to let him in. He was a gentleman, after all.

"What do you need, Wes?" Alex asked.

"Can I-?"

"Yes," Alex opened the door a little wider, so that Wes could come in. He did, taking in the welcome air conditioning and memorable furniture.

They had agreed on the couch, but not the loveseat.

"Alex," Wes started, hands on his hips. His badge reflected off the lamp, standing out. It was almost as if he were proving something to Alex. I'm not a failure. I don't have to be a lawyer to be successful. I don't have to be your husband to be happy. "I need your help."

"My help?" Alex almost laughed. "You're asking me for help? You must be in pretty deep, huh?"

"I need your files on Ramon Caballo." Wes stood his ground, just like he told himself to. He wasn't going to be fazed.

"Why?" Alex's sweet smile faded, and Wes's face fell. He didn't want to argue, not again. Not anymore.

"It's confidential, Alex, you should know that."

"Oh." She said quietly, closing the door softly.

"Alex, can you trust me on this?" Wes spoke directly to her, looking into her telling eyes. "Can you do this for me?"

"Wes, you-"

"I promise, once this case is over, I'll tell you everything. But, for now, this is confidential. Don't worry, Travis knows I'm here, I'm not going behind his back."

Alex was silent for a few moments. She looked down. So did Wes. Her feet were bare, toenails painted a bright red, shiny and neat.

They argued over the smell of nail polish remover.

"I have all his files in my office," she whispered. "I can give them to you tonight, if you want."

"I want that very much," he nodded. "Please, Alex."

"Okay," she nodded. "Wait here."

It did not take long for Alex to fetch the files. Wes had time to take a seat on the agreed-upon couch and check his phone messages before she returned. Her hair had been pulled into a loose bun, and she held two, thick manila folders in her hands.

She held out the folders, waiting for him to take it. When he did, his hand brushed against her smaller, delicate one. He did not linger, pulling back quickly. He didn't want to look at her; he didn't want to see the disappointment in her face. They were divorced. That was final. Why didn't he understand that?

"Th-thanks," Wes cleared his throat, flipping through the papers quickly before looking back up at Alex. "This means a lot, Alex."

"Trust me, Wes; I want him in jail just as much as you do." Alex assured him. Wes nodded, fidgeting uncomfortably. He didn't want to leave just yet.

"Alex, about this morning-"

"I don't want to talk about that." This time, Alex looked down. She laughed nervously. "You know, I've been thinking about-"

"I was out of line." Wes answered quickly. "It wasn't your fault."

"I appreciate that, Wes." Alex nodded. "Listen, I know it's getting late, and it would be nothing fancy, and I know this is so sudden, but…would you want to stay for dinner?"

Wes stopped in his tracks. Dinner was definitely not what he had in mind. 'Dinner' was absolutely out of his plan. 'Dinner' was hardly business-like.

Dinner couldn't be that bad, could it?