Author's Notes: I'm filling in some blanks in this chapter, so there's a lot of jumping from the past and present. If you haven't read the previous chapters this probably won't make much sense! ) Also, I know that in trials, the prosecution goes first. But for the purpose of this fic, let's just throw that technicality out the window ;)
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It took me several long seconds to snap her out of whatever flashback she was going through. Her eyes were glazed over and wide with fear. She was shaking, almost convulsing, and I reached out the hand that I didn't have on the door and tried to stabilize her. She blinked wildly, finally coming back to the present, and, it seemed, to safety.
"You okay?" I asked for the second time.
She hesitated, looking around, panicked…before nodding. "Yeah, Sully, I'm fine…" She swallowed. "Fine… I just…"
I knew she wasn't really okay – she was far from it – but it didn't override the fact that she had to testify, and she had to do it resolutely. "Faith you have to go in there!" I took my hand off of her should, content she could now stand on her own, and motioned to the door. "You have to do it. You have to go in there and get on that stand."
She was silent, hardly nodding as she inched closer to me and the door. "Okay?" I asked hopefully. "You can do this, okay? Real slow."
She nodded gratefully, but tentatively…fragile as glass.
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Sully was right about have only seconds to get back to the courtroom. I'd reluctantly left him at door and was shuffled up to the stand pretty soon after.
"Your Honor, the defense would like to call its first witness, Detective Faith Mitchell," Virginia had said, in her usual, young, excited voice. It wasn't exactly unwavering, though.
"Detective Mitchell," Judge Harrison had immediately stated, gazing across the room until I stood up.
The room was big, but not huge, so I don't know why it felt like it took forever to reach the front and climb up to the right of Judge Harrison. I smoothed my blues, messed with the buttons, and twirled my 5-5 lapel on the way — my anxiety not-so-cleverly disguised.
I tried to keep myself poised as I sat down, but every pair of eyes in the room were on me. The room was somewhat emptier. A lot of the people who'd been sitting next to me, beside or across from me, were all witnesses or potential witnesses, so they had to leave while I gave my version to the remaining occupants.
Lin was perched rather professionally in his seat, at his table, several rows in front of Walker's immediate family. He looked completely prepared, and it only sufficed to make me feel even worse about Virginia.
I bit my lip and kept my gaze on the back door as long as I could. I knew once I shifted my eyes, I'd lose control over where I looked altogether. And if I looked too far to my right, I'd break. I hadn't looked at him yet, per the advice of Sully just before he'd held open the court door for me and all but pushed me in. It seemed kind of harsh at first, but it knew it was because he knew it would be the end of any calm testimony I could give. So I kept my eyes locked on the doors, or more specifically, the large bronze handles of the doors. Despite this, I could still feel the cold, burning stares of Walker's family members on me, and see them out of the corner of my eyes. As if the impending questions I'd have to answer weren't enough, the stares brought everything back, and one-thousand-fold in intensity. They gave me that push that sent me, in every way except physically, back to that day…
Jelly had been preoccupied with some junkie shooting involving little Finney. I hadn't really cared, because it meant I'd be working with Miller again, and in all honestly, we just worked better together than Jelly and I did, especially after the Jeffrey case. Anyway, Miller had had a double homicide in Central Park, and another body had shown up three blocks away the following week. We were at a standstill for a few days, but we'd finally gotten a few leads and were making progress.
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February 7, 2005
138 days before trial
"You'll call me when you get there?" I asked hopefully, watching my daughter grab her sweater from the back of the chair.
She nodded, but not before replying with a smile and rolling her eyes. "Mom, it's only ten o'clock. Don't worry so much."
I smiled faintly and shrugged. "That's what I'm for," I reminded. She was off to Fred's again. Normally she'd just go over there for the weekends, but he and Caroline were going to Colorado to see her family and she insisted Emily come and check out the colleges. Emily promised me she wasn't interested in leaving New York after high school, so I begrudgingly let her go. She said she was just excited about getting out of the state for a little while, and so was Charlie. Skipping school was probably another incentive.
"See you in a couple weeks?" I asked, hugging her, silently cursing Fred, and silently murdering Caroline simultaneously. She nodded, and several seconds later she was gone. I wandered into the kitchen, preoccupied with thoughts of the kids and the case Miller and I were working on, when the sound of scratchy music started from somewhere in the living room.
I don't mind spendin' every day
Out on the corner in the pouring rain…
Wait for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay while…
I dug my cell out of my purse, wondering when on earth I'd changed my normal ringtone to some song that sounded only half-familiar. It wasn't until I'd open my phone and said hello that I realized it probably hadn't been me, and I laughed aloud.
"Hey Mil—John, sorry, I…"
"You gotta come to the station."
"What?" I squinted, not as if that would actually help me better understand why I had to rush to the House on my rare day off.
"Uniforms in the 38th just found a body. Same M.O. It's gotta be our guy. He's moving."
"The 38th?" I asked, rather confused. "If he's moving, you wanna hand it off to detectives there?" I should have known that was wrong thing to say. After the Jeffrey case, I knew how committed he got to his cases. He would never hand it off to anyone.
"No," he said, specifying. "He's moved from the 38th, Faith. The body they found tonight has been in decomp for weeks. We're going over there now to put the pieces together. So to speak."
"We're following this thing to the Bronx?!"
His voice was flustered and kind of annoyed at my objections. "Just get over here," he demanded before the line went dead.
"Hey Bosco," I called timidly, walking up to the desk. He had just slammed the phone down and whirled around, looking all kinds of pissed-off at his new-found title of desk clerk. I inwardly gave my sympathies to whoever had been on the other end of the line. Telephone etiquette never was his strong suit.
His face turned and the lamp beneath him illuminated the side of face, making the scars the bandage was unable to hide all-the-more prominent. "Really coming down out there," I mentioned, pulling back my hair that sheets of rain had succeeded drenching in just seconds. It was pretty warm outside for February, but it had been raining all day, and at random intervals, pouring.
"Yup," he replied sharply. We knew there were problems when we initiated conversations with comments on the weather.
"When are you getting back on the streets?"
"Tomorrow," he announced matter-of-factly. "Me and Sully." He made a point to emphasize it was him and Sully.
"What are you doing here?" he asked finally, his voice low but accusing. The same tone he'd used when I wouldn't agree to help him cheat his way back out on the streets. He'd managed to re-qualify without me but Lieu insisted on keeping him on the desk for a couple weeks. "Detective?" he prodded when I didn't answer.
I wanted to avoid an argument, so I just replied in the same quiet voice I'd greeted him in. "The serial killer is taking us to the 38th precinct," I told him, shrugging and half-rolling my eyes. There was no doubt that I wanted to solve the case, but lately I'd felt out of place behind the gold badge. I didn't really have the motivation to chase the case around the entire city.
"Huh," he answered, listening, but completely uninterested. I was kind of surprised when he continued. "Us being…?"
"Faith?!" John was at the top of the stairs, pulling on his jacket. "Give me fifteen minutes, I got the Lieutenant from the 38th on the phone. Then we'll go." I nodded up at him before he disappeared again, watching Bosco turn to look in the same direction and then turn back to me and nod his head hard before glancing down at a stapler. I guess I didn't need to answer his preceding question.
I was exhausted from the spiteful tension between us since he'd stormed out of my apartment and slammed the door. I was even more exhausted from all of the anger and malicious comments he directed at John when he didn't even know him. He was even rude to Jelly on several occasions for no obvious reason. Then he'd look at me as if he wanted to make sure I knew how much he hated the two men who'd done absolutely nothing to him, and as if I should know why.
"You know," I spoke up, my voice a little louder than before, and this time somewhat bitter. "I never asked you to."
I didn't realize how hard it would be for me to finish that sentence. I shifted my weight to my other leg and waited.
"What?"
"At my apartment a few weeks ago, when you said I should do that for you, that I should shoot for you," I pointed to my eye in reference. "Because you—…" I couldn't say it, I realized. I couldn't get those last two words out. When I tried to, I just found myself staring at the patch on his cheekbone and I felt too guilty to even bring up the topic. I figured he could fill in the blanks, though, so I skipped ahead and continued. This time my voice shook. I averted my eyes from his at all costs, looking down at my soaked tank top and jeans and shivering. "But I never asked you to."
He stared at me coldly, and squinted as if trying to understand. I couldn't tell if he was confused or if he just couldn't believe what I'd implied.
"I mean, I didn't want you to do that," I persisted. "I didn't want you get shot because of me. I didn't want you to do that."
"You don't get to decide that!" he shrieked suddenly, and took a step back as he came as close to the side of the desk as he could. "You don't just…get to decide you can die!"
So much for avoiding an argument.
"You can't do that, Faith!" he continued, raising his voice. "I had to stand there, and I-I know it wasn't for more than a second or two," his voice shook just as mine had. "But it felt like forever, I was just standin' there watchin' the…guns…and you were right there…" He put his hands together as if to demonstrate the proximity of me to the weapons, like I needed to be reminded. "Right there. Just right…" he shook his head, hard and slow, closing his eyes as if it were all too painful to remember. I didn't know those few seconds had lasted so long for him. I'd had no idea.
"An' I was thinkin' I wouldn't get to you in time. You were right there…right there, but all they had to do was pull the—…"
"Stop," I ordered, refusing to be presented with all the grim possibilities of that day. As if it hadn't offered enough.
"No, I won't stop!" he shouted.
"Then keep your voice down!" I shot back, but hardly any quieter than him. I glanced around at several people whom we'd drawn the attention of.
"Like hell!" he continued, following the direction of my eyes to everyone who'd stopped and was staring in our direction. "Why don't you tell them all what you said, Faith! That I should have done nothing!? That I should have just stood there?!" He lowered his voice slightly, but only for two words: "No way."
The door swinging open behind me interrupted him. Sully and Ty entered, equally soaked, leading a prisoner in behind them.
Sully stopped and looked between the two of us suspiciously.
"Hey, Faith," Davis greeted quietly before following his partner's glare.
"Hey Ty," I replied, trying to ignore Bosco's imperious stare still focused on me.
"What are you doin' here anyway?" he asked.
"Yeah," Sully spoke up, still shifting his eyes between Bosco and I. "What are you doin' here? Aren't you off today?"
"I uh," I started, but Bosco's eyes were burning into me more and more as each second passed.
"What she's trying to say is that her and Lieutenant Miller have some Detective business to conduct that doesn't concern us uniforms," he announced, finally breaking his gaze and turning to Sully and Davis.
"Bosco!" I scolded, snapping my head up. "John got a break in the Central Park murder case," I explained to them, before Bosco rudely interceded once again.
"John. Right," he pushed a finger off his head as if he'd 'forgotten' to address him the right way. Sully and Ty exchanged glances and raised their eyebrows.
"Will you get over it already, Bos?!"
"No, I won't!"
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
Ty flinched. "I'm…gonna go put him in holding," he told Sully, taking a breath. With that he pulled the prisoner along, shaking his head before disappearing.
"You can go with him, Sul," Bosco suggested, ignoring the phone as it rang impatiently.
Sully scoffed. "Are you kiddin'? This is just starting to get good!"
Bosco glared at me before finally turning to pick up the phone and bark "What?!" into the receiver.
Sully turned to me again, "Anyway?"
"Oh, right," I shook my head, trying to regain my train of thought. "They found another body in the Bronx, so we're heading to the 38th. They think they're, uh, related."
"No kiddin'," Sully commented.
I nodded, biting my lip. "So, you and Bosco tomorrow?"
"Yeah…"
He succeeded in making me feel bad that I'd had the slightest thought that perhaps Bosco wasn't going back out on the street, and had just said that to spite me.
"Ty's gonna be with Finney again until Bosco gets a new partner."
"What's he think of that?"
"Bosco?" Sully raised an eyebrow.
"No…no. Davis."
"Oh. Him and Finney get along pretty well, actually," he nodded, almost sadly.
"That's good," I said. I didn't really know if it was, but I didn't know what else to say. Bosco and I splitting up was effectively splitting everyone else up too. I didn't really have any words to fix that.
"Go further, jagoff!"
We both turned to see Bosco slamming the phone down again. He looked up, innocently. "What? They told me to go to hell!"
Before either me or Sully could say anything, Swersky appeared at the top the stairs. "Is there a problem here?" he asked, glancing between the three of us.
"No, boss," Sully announced quickly, trying to preserve the peace. "Not here."
"Then what's all the yelling? Faith? What are you doing here?"
Cue Bosco answering for me again.
"Following a case out of jurisdiction!" he announced in accusation.
"10:40," Sully announced even louder, looking at his watch as he attempted to civilize things. He plastered on a smile. "Think Ty and I are gonna do some paperwork and then get the hell outta dodge. Night Lieu."
He turned and lumbered off in Davis' direction. I think he was actually glad to hear Bosco and me communicating. Fighting may not have gotten us far, but the cold shoulder we'd been giving each other hadn't made much progress either. And if we were speaking, we were making some progress, which meant there was the prospect of solving problems, and Sully was all about solving problems.
Swersky just nodded at him before turning back to Bosco and me for an answer. Bosco had his back to him, but must have known he'd resumed his icy glare.
"It's fine, Lieu," he called, slowly looking up at me with narrowed eyes. "The detective here was just leaving."
Lieu shook his head, looking at the two us pitifully. But, satisfied we'd keep our voices down, he turned away and sauntered off.
I waited a few seconds, making sure he was completely gone, just in case my subsequent words incited yet more shouting.
"Why did you do it?" I asked, this time I moved closer to the desk and looked him right in the eyes. I hadn't done that for a long time.
"What?" he snapped.
"The detective here will leave, she just wants to know why."
He was quiet for the longest time. Finally he shrugged and spoke softly. "You…have kids. A husband. Or…at least I didn't know about Fred at the time," he looked away, blinking furiously. "You had everything to live for."
I kept my stare a few more seconds, but as soon as my eyes began to water, I turned and left.
I'd rushed into the locker room, my tears unwilling hold off any longer, and pulled off my drenched top. I threw it on to the floor angrily, and then glanced around. It wasn't quite shift change yet so the room was empty and silent.
I stared into my locker. My vest sat on the top shelf, and my uniform hung messily beneath it, both looking painfully abandoned. There was nothing else. I pushed the two articles out of the way anyhow, hoping I might find some shirt to wear that was actually dry. I yanked my uniform down as my searched turned up nothing, and kneeled down, collapsing in front of my locker and crying harder into my hands.
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June 27, 2005
Present Day
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" the clerk asked obligatorily, drawing me out of my painful memories and back to the courtroom.
The words were familiar and mundane. I'd heard them and agreed to them a dozen times before. I prepared to slide my hand off the Bible and put my right one down. "I do," I answered firmly.
"Please state your name and occupation for the record."
I did as I was told, and when finished, I adjusted nervously in my seat and prepared to lie.
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I'd watched her walk in, slowly, and make her way toward Davis. There was a space beside him that Sully wasn't occupying at the moment. He patted it and she nodded gratefully before sitting down. There were considerably fewer people behind Virginia and me, now. They were all out waiting their turn to testify; and if they gave half a damn about their futures, then they were probably reconsidering.
I kept my eyes locked on her as Virginia stood up and announced her name. I kept them on her as she stood up again and gingerly made her way to the stand. I kept them on her as she swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
She never looked at me, though, and I knew why.
I finally broke my gaze, ignoring Virginia's previous order not to let my eyes wander around the courtroom – more specifically, not to stare down Walker's ex-wife, as I had allegedly done on a number of occasions. But I didn't like how the bitch was staring at Faith, I figured if I she caught my eye I might actually succeed in scaring her into re-evaluating her attitude. She was tough, though. She stared right back at me, not blinking, not crying, just staring coldly and vengefully, sometimes accompanied by more stares from several people near her that I didn't know. I gave up eventually, usually about the time a juror saw me. I shrugged and shook my head. It wasn't my fault the lady had married a rapist.
I listened to Virginia ask for Faith's name and occupation, and I silently willed things along faster. Everything took forever. I'd already waited for the trial for fourth months, in jail no less, and now they were spreading it out over weeks, and the damn senile judge took a recess every ten minutes. If things kept going the way they were, I would be a hundred by the time the ordeal was over and the verdict wouldn't mean shit.
"How are you connected to this case?" Virginia asked, starting her usual show of pacing and clasping her hands together. It was repetitive, but at least it toned her down a little made her look less like some over-enthusiastic grad student and more like an actual attorney. I settled into my seat, dreading the onset of questions and their answers and fearing cross-examination.
"I'm the defendant's partner," Faith began, causing me to look up. Her voice was uncharacteristically irresolute. "Was," she corrected, switching her sight from the door to Virginia, and I felt an ache in my throat all over again.
"For how long?"
Twelve years, nine months, twenty-two days, and eight hours. But who was counting?
"Almost thirteen years."
Virginia nodded. "That's a long time," she observed.
No shit! Sully! You really picked a winner! This girl couldn't get Mother Teresa out of a jam even if her life depended on it.
"It is," Faith agreed, nodding once. I could tell she thought it was a retarded observation, too.
"You were with the defendant during some time on the day in question, right, Detective?"
"That's correct."
"In fact, at one point you were at Angel of Mercy Hospital, correct?"
Faith nodded. I could see 'the day in question' coming back to her, and I shuddered as it came back to me, too. Everything – the hospital, the alley, the blood, Cruz.
"Yes," she said, realizing a nod wasn't good enough for the court. Under routine circumstances, she was a pro on the stand. I guess this wasn't so routine. I wished I could take the stand in her place; I wished to God she didn't have to relive everything all over again.
"Tell the court why you were there, as a patient."
I closed my eyes, anticipating her answer and cringing before she ever gave it. I couldn't see the logic in making her go through everything again. Virginia had told me the prosecution was going to use what happened as a motive, which wasn't exactly hard to figure out or anything, and that proving it wasn't enough motive would be the hardest part of the trial. But still… to go through it step by step just seemed like torture, even though I knew it was supposed to help establish a timeline or something.
I opened my eyes, watching her blinking away tears as she tried to stay strong, and the longer she hesitated, the more my heart broke.
I thought back to before 'the day in question' as everyone had been calling it for four months. I thought back to the night before it, because that's what was significant. That had been my chance, my chance to stop the bastard, my chance to prevent the whole disaster. And I had failed miserably.
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February 7, 2005
138 days before trial
"You had everything to live for," I finished, shrugging, and lying through my teeth. I wasn't lying about that, specifically, she did have everything to live for. But I was lying about the reason itself. I had looked away, the only thing I knew how to do when I lied, and when I finally turned back to face her, she was hurrying off to the locker room.
I turned away, forgetting for a second the several pairs of eyes still probing into us. I glared at few of them, turning my attention to the stairs where Jelly had appeared, clutching coffee, as usual.
"What?!" I snarled. "Don't you people have any thing to do?"
Jelly shrugged, heading back up the stairs, shaking his head and mumbling something that sounded like 'drama'.
I pushed the locker room door open cautiously, only halfway, still not exactly sure what I expected to accomplish by going inside, or even what I could do.
You could tell her the truth.
Of course I could. My mind was full of suggestions; they just didn't come with how-to instructions. I mean, what about me? She hadn't even just said 'no' to my request, she had the nerve to go on and say there were other jobs for me at the department. Like I was supposed to stand behind a desk for the rest of my life, push papers and return verbal insults into the phone all shift. I was at a loss at how things had changed while I'd been in the hospital – how she had moved on, without me, and it seemed, relatively easily at that. And how she acted like she didn't know me – like she thought it was actually plausible to think I could do any other job than be out on the streets.
When I didn't see her near the sink, I pushed the door open wider, finally catching notice of her crouched in front of her locker. 'Her locker' was actually a charitable title considering she didn't use it much anymore. She kept pretty much everything she needed upstairs now. I hardly even saw her in here anymore. In fact, the only time I did was when she passed the desk on her way in and out of the House.
I finally stepped in completely, letting the door swing shut behind me. She must not have heard it, or me walking up to her, right away. The rain was louder now, pelting the window as it had been doing for the better part of the day, and I guess it drowned out the clicking of the door and the scuffling of my shoes, because it took her a few seconds to look up.
I watched her for a minute as she wiped her hands over her face, as if wiping away the tears would eliminate all evidence that she'd been crying. I noticed her vest hung haphazardly from the top shelf, and her uniform lay in a heap near her hands, half of it still hanging from above. There was nothing else. I looked down and closed my eyes, thinking of what to say and how to say it, before deciding to give myself a little longer to come up with the courage, and then heading toward my own locker. I opened it quietly, pushing things on the top shelf out of the way until I found another one of my NYPD turtlenecks folded, at least by my standards, in the corner, and pulled it down before routinely slamming the door shut.
She was standing up when I approached again, struggling to untangle her soaked top, like it was still reasonably wearable or something. I outstretched the hand that clutched my shirt, watching her desperately try to avoid my eyes at all cost as she snatched it and pulled it on. I just stuffed my hands into my pockets and watched her close her locker, then brush past me toward the sink.
"How are the kids?" I finally asked with a small sigh, turning around and trying to break the painful silence somewhat, maybe continue things civilly. She shrugged, turning on the faucet, splashing her face, and then turning it off again.
"They're in Denver come tomorrow night," she announced, her tone insinuating how I would have known had we actually been speaking to each other for the better part of the month.
"Denver? Colorado?" I queried. She had grabbed and towel was drying the water from her face, unable to see the puzzled look on mine.
"Fred's taking them for like two and a half weeks. Whats-her-face apparently has family there or something," she looked disgusted.
"You're letting him take them?"
"Well, what can I do, Bosco? Emily's seventeen, I can't really make her stay. And he has custody of Charlie, or did you forget that while you were arranging to have someone shoot for you?"
"I didn't cheat, Faith!"
"Whatever," she shook her head, throwing the towel on a bench.
"Look," I said, once I realized she had no intention of making this easy. "I lied out there, okay," I shook my head, watching her watch me in the mirror. "Back there. I lied because I never thought about what I said. Charlie or Em," I shook my head again, "Or…or…Fred," I continued shaking my head as my words started to fail. "You know I didn't think about him. I was selfish; all I thought was…ah…I mean…I just. I guess…me. I thought about me." I looked down at the floor, stuffing my fists deeper into my pockets. "Mikey was gone, Ma was in surgery with her throat crushed. God knows I didn't think she was gonna live. And there…there you were. Right there, right in the front, like a damn target. And you were all I had left. So…so…I just jumped. I didn't think about anything else."
Her eyes were glazed over now, shiny with the formation of tears, as she processed my words. I couldn't tell if the realization was hitting her, or if she'd known and was just acknowledging it.
We were both silent for a long time.
"No, you didn't…" she finally mumbled, quietly, as she started past me. I reached out, curling my hand around her wrist to stop her. She pulled away angrily, but stopped leaving. "What about me?"
I tilted my head, perplexed, "What?"
She blinked, new tears forming in her eyes and following the trails of old ones down her face. "You act like you didn't have a choice, there. In the hospital. You tell me you had to wait…even after you woke up…for someone to tell you if I was alive. But then you throw it at me when I won't shoot for you. But what about me?"
"Faith, I—," I attempted to apologize for my words that night. I never was able to rationalize them, not even to myself. And I wanted to explain how I hadn't meant them, but she was quick to interrupt.
"No, Bosco! What about me?! Did you ever stop to think that maybe that isn't what I wanted? That—that I didn't want to roll you over and see bullet holes in your neck and your face…everywhere!? That I didn't want to wait there and watch you bleed to death? That I didn't want to have to tell your mother, after everything that happened with Mikey, that she was probably gonna lose her oldest son too….because of me? Because he was protecting me? Or listen to the doctors tell me, you were never gonna walk again. Or talk, or feed yourself. Or that I didn't want to go into that room every night and listen to machines keep you alive? Or that when I finally—finally got you back, that I didn't want to help you get back out on the street when you weren't a hundred percent, so that it could happen all over again? But that then…then this time someone would call me and say, no, he didn't make it? This time he'll never wake up?!"
By now tears were streaming down her face, almost in sheets. I felt them stinging the back of my own eyes, but I rebelled, fighting them away with all my strength. "I'm sorry," was all I managed to croak out.
She nodded slowly, looking back up at me with jade, watery eyes. "Me too."
Miller burst in the door just before we fell into another deep silence.
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June 27, 2005
Present Day
The courtroom had gone cold and dead-silent. There was no sound, no clock-ticking, no whispers, no white noise, even the clicking of Virginia's heels had stopped. It was just pure silence. I must have been completely consumed by my reflections of that February night because I didn't snap out of it until I heard Virginia repeat the question, her voice urgent. Judge Harrison was now staring at Faith with beady eyes, as was everyone else. I did a quick scan behind me. Everyone's eyes were focused on the front of the courtroom. The jurors looked staid, most of them looking on with blank stares. They were difficult to read. Walker's family, friends, and colleagues weren't, though. There expressions were deadly, and then didn't seem to hold back any hatred for whoever was testifying for the defense. For the first time I focused on Walker's partner. He looked calm, in his blues, relatively distanced from Walker's ex or mother, several rows back, which I found sort of strange. He sat off to the side. He was only of the ones whose eyes were moving, and nervously, at that. They shifted from Faith, to Virginia, to the floor, his hands, whatever was in sight. I followed everyone else's eyes to the front again, trying to recall what Sully had told me about the man, the day I'd found out he had known Walker.
Judge Harrison looked ready to jump in and demand she answer, but she broke the silence before he had the chance. I closed my eyes, preparing myself for her unstable words, silently praying it would help prepare her, too.
Sometimes I wondered if maybe none of us would be in the courtroom had I interceded in someway – delayed her leaving, or just done something, besides just stand there. Sometimes I wondered where we'd be if the entire nightmare had never happened…Maybe if I had made certain she heard my last two words before following Miller out of the locker room that night.
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February 7, 2005
138 days before trial
"Faith?!" Miller shouted impatiently, and I cringed as he went on complaining about he'd looked all over for her. The moron had just now thought to check the locker room?
"We gotta go…like now!" he urged, overlooking the fact that she was crying. Overlooking the fact that anything was wrong at all. He glanced from her to me, expectantly. He gave me a neutral look – it wasn't a glare, or a smile. It was just expressionless; which was actually more civil than I should've expected, considering I'd been all but nice to him since we'd been introduced. And normally, I'd have instantly shot back, demanding he shut the hell up and wait, give her a few minutes, piss off, go to hell, the whole nine yards. But tonight I was defeated, too shocked by her previous words to lash out even at someone I hated.
I just shifted my eyes away from him and back to her. "You better go," I said softly, shrugging and nodding toward the door. Gradually, our gaze broke and she began to follow him out, glancing over her shoulder as she reached the exit.
"Be careful," I mumbled. But she was already gone.