Part 24 (2/2)

”Yes.”

Her mom has that look on her face, that definite flash in her eye. That slight lift of the eyebrow, that smile playing her lips. She's in the midst of the game. He's the prey, and she's the predator, and she will catch him.

The man smiles at her, lets his eyes linger on her face for a moment, then quickly steps past her and into the apartment.

Her mom follows behind him, her eyes dropping briefly as she watches him move away from her.

Was that giving permission? Her mom wasn't thinking about permission then. No, she was thinking about him.

Devon looks over at Dom. Her brows furrowed behind her wire frames. Would Dom think that her mom had given him permission at that moment?

”What did you do then, Detective Woods?”

”I entered the apartment and approached the girl. She was lying on the couch under some kind of blanket.”

Devon feels that p.r.i.c.k, like when she's in cla.s.s and has some unique insight to share. She feels the adrenaline pumping through her arms. Should she say something to Dom?

”How did the girl appear to you?”

Unsure of what to do, Devon only half-listens as the detective describes how he first found Devon-listless on the couch with damp hair and pale skin. How he'd introduced himself to her, crouching down so he could offer her his hand. How she'd seemed unresponsive to his questions.

”Did she appear to have understood you?” the prosecutor is asking now.

”I wasn't sure at the time. This is all detailed in my report.”

”Did she seem like she wanted to get away?”

”No. She seemed barely conscious. Barely hanging on.”

Devon looks over at Dom once more. Her hands are clasped over her legal pad. Devon pulls her own toward herself. Quickly scribbles: My mom didn't really give permission to come inside. She was actually hitting on him. Devon pushes the pad toward Dom, taps her on the elbow.

Dom turns toward Devon abruptly, annoyed. Then she notices the note, glances down, her eyes darting behind her wire frames. Suddenly her eyebrows jump up. She turns back to Devon, then back to the pad. Scribbles underneath Devon's own writing: You remember this? Then looks back at Devon.

Devon nods.

Writes, You're sure?

Devon nods again.

The prosecutor continues to question the detective. They discuss what happened after Devon's mom had pulled the blanket away. How Police Sergeant Fowler entered the apartment to get Devon's mom under control, how she'd kicked and screamed. They discuss how Devon had, in the end, pa.s.sed out. How he'd radioed for an ambulance.

After the prosecutor returns to his seat, the judge looks over at Dom. ”Defense?”

Dom stands. ”Your Honor, I would request a short recess to conference with my client.”

Judge Saynisch checks his watch, glances at the prosecutor. ”Okay. Court adjourned for a ten-minute recess. Return to the courtroom at ten forty-five.” He hammers his gavel, and as he departs the courtroom, the people within snap to their feet.

chapter twenty.

Dom pulls Devon into the conference room outside the courtroom. Drops her notebook on the round table, pulls out the folding chair farthest from the door and facing it. ”Sit down, Devon. We don't have much time.”

Devon takes the chair opposite Dom.

”Spill,” Dom says. ”Tell me everything you remember.”

Devon looks down at her gnawed nails. Nothing left to pick at. She stashes her hands under her thighs. ”Well, my mom's always looking for the next guy,” she says finally. ”That guy, that detective, was a potential candidate, I guess. When she was talking to him at the door, I remember thinking, 'Why doesn't she just take his number and make him go away?'”

Dom listens as Devon pieces together what she's remembered, how she'd watched her mom flirt with the two guys, how her mom had played with the door, opening and closing it with her foot. How she'd, most likely, only used Devon being home that morning as an excuse to get the blond guy into her apartment so she could try to work her magic on him. ”I know her,” Devon says softly. ”She's done stuff like that so many times.”

”Your mom didn't mention any of this to me.” Dom's tone is doubtful.

”So, she told you stuff?” Then Devon clamps her mouth shut.

She has other questions ready to burst, like, Where was she? Why didn't she ever come? What does she think about me? But doesn't ask any of them.

”Of course,” Dom snaps. ”What do you think? We talked for a couple of hours. I don't call witnesses blind.”

Devon nods, swallows. ”Well, my mom didn't mention it because she probably didn't even realize what was going on herself. She's that clueless.”

”But, apparently, you did. You see, this is why you tell me everything, Devon. I hate surprises, especially on the day I go to court.” Dom sighs, takes off her gla.s.ses, wipes the lenses with the hem of her skirt.

”But I didn't really think about . . . didn't remember it, until I was in there hearing it.”

Dom sighs again. ”Fine, Devon.” She peers through the lenses to make sure they're clear, then places them back on her face. ”You didn't remember; I get it.” She flips through a note-scrawled notebook then looks back up at Devon. ”This is very important, the facts about this, what you're claiming. If we can prove that your mother had not clearly granted the detective formal entry into your apartment, and he entered anyway, then we can argue that any evidence he discovered inside should be suppressed. Which means it won't be admissible in court. Which means it can't be used against you. This is good; it may help us. A lot. So you must be absolutely clear and correct with this a.s.sertion.” Dom drums her fingers on the table. ”Of course, your testimony could be discounted because of your state of mind at the time. You did pa.s.s out.”

Dom has that look on her face now, that thoughtful look.

At this moment, Devon feels a sudden surge of grat.i.tude-how lucky she is to have Dom here with her. Always turning things over, looking at all sides. She feels tears p.r.i.c.k at the corners of her eyes. Dom must really care about her. Right?

”Well,” Dom continues, ”this won't come into play until the actual trial. But I can embark on a little fis.h.i.+ng expedition today, see if there's something to it. Test out my bait to see if it's tasty. And to discredit the detective as a witness. I can put a few dings in his seemingly flawless armor. I can make him squirm.”

Dom slaps the tabletop, stands up. Her eyes are bright. ”Ready?” Devon stands up, too. Turns her head, quickly wipes at her eyes. ”Sure.”

”All right, then. Let's get back in there and go stir things up!”

”All rise!”

The courtroom is on its feet, and Devon watches as Judge Saynisch makes his way up to his bench. Sits down, scans the room.

”Be seated.” When the room is settled, he looks over at Dom. ”Defense, do you have any questions for the witness?”

”Yes, Your Honor.”

”Then proceed. Let's get this show on the road.”

<script>