“Elaine, I don’t have time for this.”
“Really? You said there was more than enough evidence to prove that this monster killed my son. I believed you. I trusted you. You are losing.”
For a brief moment Astrid thinks of matching Elaine’s shrill tone, but the word son allows her to calm down and see Elaine not as a bitchy ex-ADA out for a win, but as a desperate mother out for justice.
“We’ve had some setbacks,” Astrid says.
“Setbacks?” Elaine raises her voice.
“Tomorrow we bring the DNA evidence and the testimony from this girl, Jenna. Plus, we have the psychological exam results. It’s enough, Elaine.”
Elaine takes a deep breath.
Astrid sees the pain in her face and continues. “All of it will point to a willful motive, and we’ll elaborate on Micah’s propensity toward violence.”
“I want to take the stand.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“The jury needs to hear from me.” She feels a lump in the back of her throat. She slows her pace, lowers her voice, and continues like she’s sharing a testimony at church. “I know things about Micah, things I couldn’t see clearly before, because he’s a genius at manipulation. He had to stay on my good side, so he could keep his life with my wonderful boy. But now I can see it all. He puts on this smiling, naïve, Southern bullshit face, but he was out for Lennox’s money, plain and simple. I mean, shit, the man would sit at home all day, working on God knows what in his barely six-figure freelance job, spending all of Lennox’s money on extravagant vacations and interior designers. He used my Lenny. And when Lennox betrayed him, Micah threatened to murder him. And he did, I know it. I know it as much as I knew my boy. The jury needs someone they can sympathize with. They didn’t know Lenny. They should hear from someone who did.”
“It’s not a good idea,” Astrid says. The thought of anyone finding Elaine sympathetic almost makes her laugh out loud. “The jury may see all this emotion as a desire for vengeance.”
“I can contain myself. You underestimate me.”
“I think the feeling is mutual.”
Elaine moves in closer to Astrid.
“Let me see your face,” Elaine says. “Did we move too fast? Do we really have enough?”
“I believe in the process,” Astrid says in a lowered voice, as if she’s forcing the words. She knows Elaine’s questions are actually threats. “I would not have agreed to proceed so quickly otherwise.”
“Good.” Elaine retreats. “Promise me one thing. If you feel like you have another day like today, or if anything threatens your resolve, you will offer him a plea for criminally negligent homicide. He can’t walk away from this.”
“I promise,” Astrid says.
✽✽✽
“Shawn, swear to me you won’t get too cocky.” In the visiting room at the Tombs, Micah is sitting across from his lawyer and friend, who is beaming from his victories of the day. He looks at Shawn intently, studying his face.
Shawn snorts a curt giggle as he beats a stack of papers on his lap, pounding them into alignment. “Is there such a thing?”
“This is my life, Shawn. I wanna go home.”
“You will. These people are recklessly pursuing a path that will only lead to acquittal, and they’re too blind to see it.”
“They seem pretty resolved.”
“And that, my friend, will be their downfall. The jury is on our side, I can sense it. Now, about tomorrow, Jenna will be on the stand. You okay with me going after her?”
“What do you mean, go after Jenna?”
“Micah, listen. They are coming after us again tomorrow, so I just want you to be prepared for what you may experience. It’ll be a rollercoaster.”
“Go easy on Jenna, would you? I’m serious. I love that girl. She’s the only friend I’ve got besides you.”
“Hey, hey, hey. I’ve been really proud of you so far. You’ve held it together like a pro.” Shawn scoots his chair closer to Micah. He places his hand on Micah’s. “I just need you to trust me. We’re good. I’ve got this.”
C h a p t e r 3 6
“The People call Jenna Ancelet,” Astrid says.
Jenna enters through the large thick wooden doors and begins to walk toward the witness stand. To offset her anxiety, she is dressed in her self-proclaimed “courtroom power-suit,” which means black Dior slacks and a white Gucci silk blouse, complemented by an orange-and-lilac-patterned Hermés scarf. Her brand-new Valentino stilettos click with a fearless purpose, and she walks in front of the jury to take the stand.
“Oh, Jesus,” Shawn says under his breath to Micah. Micah smiles.
She weaves her way through the waist-high wooden railings to her place on the witness stand, confident that she has bruised both of her hips, and places her hand on the Bible.
“And who do we have here?” Judge Wilson asks, impressed and not annoyed by the entrance. “State your name for the record, please.”
“Jenna Ancelet, that’s A-N-C-E-L-E-T,” says Jenna, remembering the previous night’s online coaching by the prosecution.
“Raise your right hand. Do you promise that the testimony you shall give in the case before this court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” asks the clerk.
“I do.”
“Ms. Ancelet, thank you for appearing before us today,” Astrid Lerner addresses her latest witness. “Can you tell me the nature of your relationship with both Micah and Lennox?”
“Absolutely,” Jenna says, noticing her French accent is a little more prominent than normal. She decides to run with it. “I first met Lennox at Élan Publishing when I began working as his executive assistant about four years ago, around the same time as he was dating Micah. We all hit it off immediately.”
Astrid opens her mouth to ask a question of clarification, but Jenna continues before she can begin.
“I met Micah at an after-work cocktail reception. At first, I thought he was good-looking and single, of course. But soon I found out I was wrong. Turns out Micah
