'The only thing he knows how to share is his diAs furious as I was, the
natural instinct to behave in front of my father silenced me. I
couldn't even hit the mute button, thanks to my ridiculous yellow
rubber gloves. I gave up, threw the remote on the sofa, and headed
into the kitchen to exchange the gloves for something more helpful.
By the time I had sucked down half a pint of Cherry Garcia ice cream, I
was ready to talk again, but Chuck and my father had already covered
all the bases: Why hadn't Townsend gone through the police? A surprise
press conference only creates more conflict. Just how legit was this
polygraph? Depends on the questions, the equipment, and the
administrator. And, the doozy of the night, why the hell had Townsend
hired Shoe Boy? He doesn't even practice criminal law. Did Townsend
know his new attorney was my ex-husband? Surely Roger would have told
him.
I figured since they'd finished all the objective analysis, I could
jump to the part that was anything but. 'You know what? He wins. I'm
off the case. I'm telling Frist tomorrow.'
My father said nothing. Neither did Chuck.
Fine, I'd do the pep talk myself. No, self, I said in my head, you
need to finish what you started. Don't let him get the best of you.
Act like a professional. Then the coach in me found a winning theme,
one that deserved to be spoken aloud: 'You know, what if Townsend
actually did it? Imagine Roger and me in trial together.'
Chuck put his hand on my shoulder. 'Maybe it's best if you did recuse
yourself.'
'Forget it. I'm not letting him chase me off my own case.' When I
beat Roger during our first-year moot trial competition at Stanford, he
attributed the win to the side slit in my skirt. I should have known
to stay away. Handing him his ass in trial (and in pants) would be
sweet satisfaction.
My dad was noticeably quiet. As Chuck carried his coffee mug into the
kitchen, I looked at him and raised my eyebrows. So?
'It's up to you, Sam. I'll support you either way.'
'But, what about '
'Unh-unh. Don't use this to revisit what we put to rest earlier. This
is about you and your case, not me.' When he turned the television
back on, I knew I wasn't getting any further with him, so I tried my
luck in the kitchen with Chuck.
As I hugged him from behind, my pager buzzed. He felt it too.
'Duty calls, counselor.'
I recognized the number as MCT's. No doubt it was Johnson breaking the
news about the press conference. He could wait a few minutes.
'What's going on with you? You got awfully quiet in there.'
'Nothing's going on.' He kept his back to me.
'What are you upset about?'
'It's fine, Samantha. Don't worry about it.'
Samantha? Chuck's got plenty of names for me: Kincaid, Sam, Sammy,
babe, the list goes on. But Samantha? Things were not fine. 'Is this
about Roger? You can't possibly be jealous.'
'See, I knew you'd turn it into that, Sam. That's why I wasn't going
to say anything. Suddenly I'm an overbearing jealous pig with
testosterone poisoning.'
'Not quite that bad. More like a piglet.' He didn't laugh.
'Seriously, Chuck, what's going on?'
'Johnson and Walker are doing all the legwork on this case, and Mike
and I are stuck on the sidelines because of what I've got going with
you. Don't get me wrong; I don't have a problem with that. But now
that Roger's involved, maybe you should at least consider the
possibility that you should be the one to step aside.'
My pager buzzed again. Johnson was probably waiting for my call before
leaving the precinct.
'I did. You were sitting right there. The first thing I said was I'm
off the case. Now I think I should stay on it. There will be plenty
of cases you work that will go to another DA. Who knows? Maybe we'll
even decide it's all right to work together.'
'Why do you say it that way: Who knows? Like it's so crazy for us both
to work a case? How come you trust your judgment going against your
ex-husband, but you can't be on the same team with me?'
More buzzing. 'Honestly? Because my ex-husband's an asshole, and
dealing with assholes is pretty much what I do for a living. You, my
dear, are dangerous for a whole different reason,' I said, leaning
close. 'I don't always think straight when it conics to you.'
