He looked down at Leeza’s face as it rested on his chest, rising and falling with his respiration. She lay still. “I forgot about that story until I read about a similar case a few days ago.”
She began to rub his stomach. “You can’t think about those things, honey. You’re innocent, and you have to believe in yourself, that justice will prevail and they’ll dismiss these charges. Or that the jury will see right through their case and find you not guilty.”
He sighed heavily. “It’s a scary thought. Leaving your fate up to twelve people who don’t know you. Would you trust your life to twelve people you never met if it weren’t in the context of a trial?” He paused, but not long enough for Leeza to answer. “Of course not. Who in their right mind would even consider doing such a thing?”
“As flawed as our legal system is at times, at least it gives you a chance to prove your innocence. To stand up and present evidence in support of yourself.”
He lay there, taking in what she was saying, but not responding. As stimulated as he was only a few moments ago while making love, his body was now numb.
“Right now,” she said, stroking his face, “you’ve put your fate in the hands of two people you trust, who know you very well. Jeffrey and Ryan will pull you out of this mess somehow. I have faith in them.”
CHAPTER 37
CHANDLER WAS UP AT six, planning his day. His first appointment was at eight o’clock, with Mark Stanton of Stanton Management Consultants, Inc. Brittany Harding had been an employee of Stanton’s two years ago, and he had told Chandler that he would be willing to discuss his former employee provided it was kept confidential. Chandler met him in their large, plush downtown office that overlooked the snaking Sacramento River.
Stanton was a tall man at six foot five, with chiseled facial features and jet black hair. The kind of good looks that exude confidence and success. He greeted Chandler with a smile and a firm handshake. Plaques of accomplishments and achievements lined one of the walls adjacent to his large maple desk.
Chandler slipped into one of the leather chairs and displayed all forms of his law enforcement identification, past and present, for Mark Stanton to review. He scanned each one of them and handed them back to Chandler. “What can I do for you?”
“As I told you the other day, I’m looking for information regarding Brittany Harding.”
“You said something about Miss Harding being involved in a crime your friend’s been accused of.”
“That’s right.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Stanton said, leaning back in his large chair. “That woman was nothing but trouble for me from the day I hired her.”
“How so?”
“Look, can we cut to the heart of the matter? I have an appointment in fifteen minutes,” he said, stealing a look at what appeared to be a Rolex, “and I believe I know what information you’re after.”
Chandler raised his eyebrows. He didn’t think it would be this easy. “Let’s hear it.”
“Two months after Harding was hired, I was having some difficulty collecting from a rather large account of mine. At the time, it was sixty percent of my income, so it was killing me — totally hamstringing my ability to do business. I started taking measures to protect my company’s solvency, which involved pay cuts, doing away with overtime for a couple of account managers, and eliminating one of my support staff positions — the one Harding happened to hold. The day before I was going to terminate her, she informed me that it would be a mistake if I let her go. I took it to mean that she thought she was a valuable employee, and that laying her off would be a loss to the company. I didn’t see it as a threat. I explained to her that it wasn’t really my choice, that I needed to make some difficult decisions.”
He raised an eyebrow. “The next morning, I had papers on my desk naming me in a lawsuit that had been filed, accusing me of sexual harassment. She claimed that I called her into my office and told her that if she wanted to keep her job, she’d have to perform certain...activities that went beyond her job description. I then supposedly began to fondle her breasts. She said that she refused my advances, and as a result, was fired.”
“Let me guess that it didn’t end there,” Chandler said, pulling his pad out to take notes.
“No, it didn’t.” Stanton leaned forward in his seat, rested his forearms on his desk. “Not by a long shot. I got a call from her attorney, who was considering a civil suit against me. Wanted fifty thousand dollars to make it all go away.”
“And you paid it?” Chandler asked.
“Wouldn’t you have? Here I was, fighting to keep my company afloat...the last thing I needed was a groundless civil suit that would’ve smeared my name across the papers. She’d once told me a friend of hers was a reporter with the Herald, who I’m sure would’ve jumped at a juicy story for the front page of the business section: Imposing, dominant male president and CEO fondled the breasts of his attractive staff person while she cowered in his shadow, fearful for her life.” He waved a hand
