Oh God, oh God, oh God.
My messages with Jonesy fill my vision, and the courtroom blurs. Weeks and weeks of him sending lewd threats, my responses to them, telling him how wet he makes me when he sends me things like that.
I feel the heat of pink stain my cheeks, and I look to Jonesy for any kind of comfort he can provide. We’re about to be ruined. This case, maybe even the Connor Maddox one. I’ll never be able to work here again.
He frowns for a moment, shuffling in his seat as if he’s fighting the urge to push through the barricade and make his way to me.
“If Dr. Murphy looks embarrassed, Your Honor, it’s because she’s reading through the messages her lover has sent her recently. I don’t think I could quite do it justice, Dr. Murphy. Would you mind reading the second one, labeled 2A?”
“These are completely irrelevant to Thomas Vale’s case,” I say.
“Please read the message, Dr. Murphy.”
“I don’t see how—”
“Please read the message, Dr. Murphy,” the judge commands.
I steel myself. He’s not even going to let me explain.
“I’ve been watching you. I know how you touch yourself at night. I know the pink vibrator that you use to get yourself off. I’m going to fuck you with that vibrator until you beg me to stop. I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk for a week. I’ll carve my name into your skin so everyone knows you’re mine.”
“How graphic. Didn’t numerous victims have a symbol carved onto their bodies?” the lawyer asks.
“Yes, but—”
“Were the victims not chased down, stalked, and murdered with brutal violence and torture?” His tone is questioning, as if he’s shocked by this revelation, despite his client being put away for literally committing those crimes.
“Yes,” I grit out, my teeth clenched.
“And you would roleplay this out with your boyfriend?” his disapproving tone slides over me. “It’s sickening. Disgusting. That you would fantasize about such things.”
“Sex between two consenting adults is somewhat different from literally being murdered, would you not agree, Mr. Samuels?” I snap.
He grins again, his bright white teeth glinting.
“Are you in love with Thomas Vale?” He changes tack fast enough to give me whiplash.
“No. He’s a monster who murdered twenty-three women,” I say as calmly as possible.
“You spent an awful lot of time with him. Anyone would understand if you developed feelings. Especially since your talks were so intimate.”
“My interviews were standard discussions that any forensic psychologist would complete.” I try to keep myself composed, try to stop the bead of sweat from running down my back, but I feel like a bug under a microscope, seconds away from being flattened by Thomas Vale’s murderous hand.
“And yet you have a sexual partner who reenacts murderous scenes with you.”
“They’re hardly murderous when I am in fact sitting here alive, Mr. Samuels. I am a professional, as is the person who sent that message—”
“But you do fantasize about being hunted, tortured, assaulted. Your search history on the third page there shows a number of searches after you met my client. Some of which include: stalker play, knife play, and mask play.”
“Play is the operative wor—”
“No further questions, Your Honor,” he says, cutting me off.
I’m furious. My heart is thumping against my chest as if it’s trying to break free. I’m holding everything inside, but I’m like boiling water in a pan; a few more seconds and it’s going to spill over, scalding everything in its vicinity.
“Your witness, Miss Halliday.” He grins,sitting down, the pinnacle of relaxation next to a smug Thomas Vale.
She steps out of her chair, the click of her heels against the linoleum floor of the courthouse. She’s the pinnacle of feminine energy. A light pink pantsuit with a satin ivory blouse. She’s done her makeup in a way that suits her and is a little heavier than I’ve seen other lawyers for whom I’ve acted as a witness. I like that she has the confidence not to conform by dulling herself down for the courtroom. She’s exactly who she wants to be, even if she’s a little unorthodox.
