Cherish is the Word I Use To Describe
By Dawn-Renee Kittle
"I can't take the deal."
"Lauren, you don't know what you're saying…" began Alicia Denby, the defense lawyer that Lauren's father had insisted she use.
"Yes, I do." Lauren interrupted, looking straight at the Executive ADA Jack McCoy. "Not before the trial, at least. I don't want Jimmy getting off when I know he's guilty of murder one. I know he intended to do this, no matter what self-defense story he spun for his own lawyer. And I don't want his lawyer making a mockery out of my testimony."
McCoy nodded. "She's has a point, Alicia, and I'm willing to abide by that, if she wants to."
Ms. Denby leaned over and talked quietly in Lauren Hartman's ear. "But McCoy is willing to drop all charges, because you'll testify how Jimmy Nevins had blood all over his clothing when you found him in the garden shed of your parent's house, and that he told you he had planned to kill his father for years."
Lauren bent her chin down and whispered, "That's not the point, Alicia. I'm still an accomplice to Jimmy stabbing his own father, even though I didn't know his intentions ahead of time, because I helped him hide from the police…" Lauren turned away from her attorney and peered through her glasses at McCoy, "and I lied to my uncle."
McCoy's deep-set dark eyes studied Lauren's face intently. He raised his brows.
From across the narrow conference table, Lauren slowly, cautiously nodded.
Jack leaned back in the chair, and placed his folded hands on the edge of the table. He pursed his lips. "Ms. Denby, I would like a word with my niece, alone." He glanced at Abby sitting at his right hand.
Abby pushed her chair back and gracefully walked to the door. "Ms. Denby, if you would follow me, please."
Denby scooted her chair back and awkwardly stood up. As she straightened her too tight peach short dress suit, her voice stammered. "Jack, I… I have no idea what she could have lied about." Yet, she made no move to follow Abby.
"I'm aware of that," Jack replied, his focus still on Lauren. He frowned like a father to a wayward child.
Lauren kept her own deep brown eyes on Jack alone. "Alicia, please…just because you're going to marry my father…"
Glancing from Jack to Lauren, Alicia Denby hesitated. She barely touched Lauren's shoulder. "Do you want me to wait for you?"
Lauren shrugged. "Sure," she replied, but she never turned away from Jack's firm, but caring reproof. Behind her, the sound of the conference room door opened and closed.
Alone with his niece, Jack allowed a little smile to play on his face. "Not much on the maternal side, is she?"
"Alicia's okay, I guess, but I don't see what my father sees."
Jack chuckled and shook his head. Settling back into the chair, his face turned more serious. He raised his brows again and roll tapped his fingers on the table. "So, your fingerprints found on the windowsill that you and your counselor attested were from visiting Jimmy's father two days ago, actually came from the night of the murder?"
Lauren's lower lip trembled. "Yes. Jimmy said he forgot his key, so I helped him open the window."
Jack frowned again, voice stern. "What happened, Lauren?"
Lauren's hands shook. She held them tightly together, but she couldn't stop her voice from shaking. "Jimmy's Dad… he uh… he was drunk, but all he did was start a fight with his son. He didn't hit him or anything like Jimmy told his lawyer. I…. I don't remember what the fight was about, because it didn't make any sense to me. Buh…but his Dad said something to set him off, and he ran into the kitchen and got the butcher knife out of the block and started brandishing it about. He said his Dad couldn't beat him up anymore. 'It's my turn now,' he screamed. Now you're going to pay.'"
"Those exact words?"
Lauren nodded, "I remember that clearly, Uncle Jack, 'cause that's the last thing I heard while I was running out the front door." She broke out into a sob. Tears escaped down her cheeks. She rubbed them off. "I'm sorry, but I didn't see anymore. I was scared and I ran. I just ran…" Lauren jerked her glasses off and they landed on the table with a thud. She buried her face in her hands.
"I could have helped try to save him." Her voice filtered out through the spaces between her fingers. "But all I did was save myself."
Jack bit his words back from stating the obvious. He pushed his chair in. Leaning forward across the table, he gently touched the back of his niece's fingertips. He picked up something in the way she drew in her breath, the way her hands trembled as he gently pulled them away from her tear-stained face. She wouldn't look at him this time, but stared at her shaking hands. He held them still as best he could from across the narrow width of horizontal wood.
"Why Laurie? Even if you didn't call the police, you knew my apartment was no more than an alley away. Why didn't you call me on your cell phone?"
She frowned at her uncle. "Jimmy had already pawned it, the way he did my…." Laurie stopped.
Jack barely nodded as Laurie's eyes darted from his face to the conference room door. His brows wrinkled tightly together when she settled for staring at his hands on top of her own. He quietly asked, very carefully, "Then why didn't you run to my apartment? I've been more like a father to you than ... the man your mother married. You've always been able to talk to me, when you couldn't talk to your parents. Didn't you realize I could help you? That I would understand?"
Laurie just looked at her uncle's hands.
"Is that why you've been avoiding me, because of Jimmy Nevins?"
Laurie nodded. "I had promised you and my parents that I wouldn't get involved with anyone like Jimmy."
"And I promised you three months ago, if Jimmy kept bothering you after he crashed your high school graduation party by throwing a lawn chair into your parent's bay window, that I would get a restraining order out on him. Your mother reassured me that he hadn't threatened you again."
"She didn't know." Laurie tried to pull her hands out from under her uncle's but he firmly held onto them. "And he hadn't threatened me again…"
"Why did you start seeing Jimmy, Laurie?" Jack asked softly, gently massaging her hands.
Laurie watched the movement of her uncle's long fingers, so much like her own. Her hands stopped shaking. She slowly answered. "About a week after the party, he came by Macy's… to apologize. I was working in the Men's Wear Department that day. He brought me flowers. Red roses. He told me that he had been a jerk. His Dad's lawyer had paid for the window. He acted really sweet and took me to lunch."
Jack's brows raised in loving reproof. "Yet he tried to play these same emotional games with you in high school, but you refused to pay attention, then. And you know that he spent time in jail for beating up his last girlfriend. She almost died."
"I kn..know." Laurie stammered, "but he never hurt me like that."
Jack fingers slowed their massage, "but he hurt you in a different way, didn't he?"
She nodded. "He and his friends used to laugh at my convictions, because I wouldn't hang out with them."
That wasn't the answer he expected. Jack tried again, intentionally touching her left ring finger, bare of the silver, emerald-eyed lion he had given on her 16th birthday, his voice even and soothing. "Laurie, did he talk you into breaking the promise you made to God?"
Laurie choked on another sob. "But I promised you, too. I promised you that I'd wait. You're the only one I ever told how I even made that promise."
Jack took in a deep breath. "I know." He released her hands and scooted his chair back. "L. J., I'm still here for you. I haven't gone anywhere…"
His niece didn't hesitate. As she hastened around the right side of the table, he stood up and held out his arms. She fell into them and sobbed against his shoulder. And Jack held her like a fragile piece of china as she buried her face in his chest. Gut wrenching sobs poured out of betrayal and bitter fear of losing her uncle's love. His heart ached with hers from all the awful grief over the loss of her virginity to a dangerously selfish young con man, guilty of assault and now guilty of murder. The haunting sound twisted his stomach into more knots than his chronic migraines. Warm wetness soaked through his blue dress shirt. He would recuse himself, give the case over to Abby, but not without making sure his niece was mentally strong enough and well-prepped to testify. He would find a way to keep her out of jail, unless he had no other choice.
Laurie quieted finally, and leaned her cheek into Jack's shirt. She sniffed his neck, just above the collar. Her lips upturned from the faint smell of musk. "Uncle Jack, tell me a story of how much you loved Claire."
Jack gently rested the tip of his chin on his niece's short dark chestnut hair, and held her more tightly. "Sure, L.J. Just for you. I remember the time when…."
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(Author's Disclaimer: I wish I had an uncle like Jack McCoy... but a big brother like John Munch.)