Exactly as he is.
This time, when I turn to walk through the doors, it happens with ease, and I’m feeling a little stronger. I can do this.
“Is everything prepared, Miley?” I ask her as I approach the prosecutor’s table.
She’s pacing back and forth, fidgeting with her fingers. “Yes,ma’am. The projector is cued up,” her voice wobbles.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry about whatever trouble my boyfriend caused. I mean, ex-boyfriend now. I had no idea he was lying about who he was.”
“It’s okay, Miley, you couldn’t have known.”
“I just feel so stupid. I haven’t been able to stop crying. I let him… I let him touch me,” she whispers, on the verge of tears.
“You’re young. Boys suck. Don’t beat yourself up.” I really don’t have time for this pep talk. I need to focus on the trial, but Miley is falling apart, and I need her assistance to present all the evidence smoothly.
“I’m sorry, Miss Greenwood. I can’t do this. I need a break.” She turns and flees out of the room before I can try to stop her, leaving me dumbfounded.
“What was that?” Hayes asks from the other side of the bar.
“She took off.”
“Is she coming back?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I admit in disbelief.
“What do you need?”
“I need someone to run the projector, hit my cues when I’m presenting evidence to the jury.”
“Do you want me to see if someone else in the office is available?”
“No.” I look at him closely. “No, I need you to do it.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know this case inside and out. You know what’s on these slides already. All you have to do is sit next to me and pay attention to my talking points.”
“I’m not meant to be on that side of the bar, Liv.”
“I needyou.”
His conflicted eyes search mine before he relents. “Okay.”
“Thank you.” I look at him tenderly as he settles in his seat, fixing his already perfect collar and suit jacket.
His hand squeezes my knee subtly under the table as Judge Fulton enters, and just like that, the trial begins.
Jeremiah’s defense attorney does his job and comes out of the gate swinging, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.
Sometime after hour three, though, a blister starts forming on the back of my heel, and it’s all I can think about.
After hour four, the grumbling in my stomach is so loud that I have to fake a cough to hide it. I was so distracted by everything this morning that I forgot to eat. It’s a rookie mistake.
“I want to call Vanessa Porter to the stand, your honor. My last character witness,” the defense attorney states.
I sigh internally. This is the fifth character witness, and I’m struggling not to show my annoyance.
