“Yeah. In fact, you seem almosttooOK.”
“It’s not easy talking about this stuff,” Joshua told him. He scooted close to where Colin sat then leaned against him, sighing in happiness when Colin’s arm wrapped around him. “But I’m trying to hold it together.” He glanced up at his husband. “Besides, I’m sitting besideyouin our living room. Kinda sucks the angst out of it.”
“Don’t...” Colin began, then stopped.
“Don’twhat?”
“Don’t be afraid to displaysomeemotion when you testify,” he advised. “Don’t hold itallin. I know you want to be a credible witness, but you went through a traumatizing experience. Don’t be afraid to show it.”
Joshua nodded and leaned against Colin’s shoulder. “You’ll be in the room...right?”
“I’ll be sitting right in front of you at the prosecutor’s table. If you get upset, just look over at me, and take a breath. And if you need a break, a glass of water, whatever—say so! This isn’t the Spanish Inquisition.”
“I’ll just be glad when it’s over.”
Colin was silent for a long moment, and Joshua leaned back to look into his eyes. “What?”
“This is just the beginning, baby. After this comes the trial. And you do know you’ll have to testify then too.”
“I know.” He leaned back against Colin and sighed. “I’m trying to take this one step at a time.”
* * *
On Tuesday afternoonof the following week, Joshua and Colin arrived at Charlottesville City Hall and made their way to the room in which Joshua would give his grand jury testimony. Norman Clayton met them at the door.
Joshua tilted his head toward Colin. “He’s coming in, right?”
“He’ll be seated at the prosecutor’s table in anunofficialcapacity.” He turned and looked into Colin’s eyes. “Behave yourself in there.”
“You got it, boss,” Colin muttered.
Clayton opened the door and ushered them into the room. “You guys sit here in back for a few minutes. You’ll be called once the jury is seated.” He patted Joshua’s arm and moved to the prosecutor’s table where he began to study papers pulled from a manila folder.
Colin turned Joshua to face him and fumbled to straighten his tie. “You ready, baby?”
“As ready as I’m apt to get,” Joshua mumbled as they took their seats.
At precisely nine o’clock the court reporter entered the room, followed by the grand jury members who took their seats. The court reporter turned toward the gallery. “Will Doctor Joshua Abrams please take the stand.”
“Campbell-Abrams,” Joshua muttered as he and Colin rose and moved to the front of the room.
“Members of the grand jury, Assistant Commonwealth’s Attorney Colin Campbell will be seated at the prosecutors table to offer emotional support to his husband. As an officer of the court, he is bound by the same rules of secrecy that apply to all participants in this proceeding.” He moved from behind the table and ushered Joshua to the witness box.
The court reporter turned to face him. “Doctor Abrams, would you raise your right hand and repeat after me: Do you solemnly swear that the evidence you are about to give before the Grand Jury is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?”
Joshua did as requested, repeating the oath in a clear, calm voice.
“You may be seated.”
“Doctor Abrams, what is your profession?”
“I am a licensed clinical and forensic psychologist.”
“And where do you work?”
“I am head of the trauma division at the Rainier Clinic, which is at 1033 Alderman Road.”
“How long have you worked there?”
