03.Now.And.Forever.1978 by Steel Danielle

Author:Steel, Danielle [Steel, Danielle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Google: PiVWPgAACAAJ
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

"I didn't do it, Jessie. I don't care about the rest, but you have to know that. I didn't rape her."

"I know." It was barely a whisper, and she clung to his hand as the assistant district attorney snappily asked that the defendant be taken into custody, pending sentencing.

It was all over in five minutes. They led him away, and Jessica stood alone in the courtroom, clinging to Martin. She was alone in the world, clinging to a man she hardly knew. Ian was gone now. She was gone. Everything was gone. It was as though someone had taken a hammer to her life and shattered it. And she couldn't tell what was mirror and what was glass, what was Ian and what was Jessie.

She couldn't move, she couldn't speak, she could hardly breathe, and Martin led her slowly and carefully from the courtroom. This great, tall, healthy-looking young woman had suddenly become a zombie. It was as though there were no insides left to Jessie, and her whole being was deflating. Her eyes stayed glued to the door Ian had passed through when they'd taken him away, as if by staring hard enough she could make him come back through that door. Martin had no idea how to handle her. He had never been left alone with a client in this kind of condition. He wondered if he should call his secretary, or his wife. The court was deserted now except for the bailiff who was waiting to lock up. The judge had looked at her regretfully when he'd left the bench, but Jessie hadn't noticed. She hadn't even seen Houghton leave, shortly after Ian. It was just as well. And all she could hear was the echo of the word that kept ringing through her head again and again and again. Guilty ... guilty ... guilty ...

"Jessie, I'll take you home." He led her gently by the arm and was grateful that she followed him. He wasn't entirely certain that she knew who he was or where they were going, but he was glad that she didn't fight him. And then she stopped and looked at him vaguely.

"No, I ... I'll wait for Ian here. I ... I want ... need ... I need Ian." She stood beside the middle-aged attorney and cried like a child, her face hidden in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Martin Schwartz sat her down on a chair in the hall, handed her a handkerchief, and patted her shoulder. She was holding Ian's wallet and watch and car keys in her hand like treasures she had been bequeathed. Ian had left with empty pockets and dry eyes. In handcuffs.

"What ... what ... will they do ... to him now?" She was stammering through her tears. "Can ... can ... he come home?" Martin knew she was too close to hysterics now to be told anything even approaching the truth. He just patted her shoulder again and helped her to her feet.

"Let's just get you home first.

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