Manwhore 1 by H.M. Ward

Author:H.M. Ward [Ward, H.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781630350871
Publisher: Laree Bailey Press
Published: 2015-10-10T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

A week passes at zombie speed. In my attempt to release my frustration, I destroy my favorite dildo. It's no wonder why I don’t have a boyfriend. Guys probably sense I could break their junk and avoid me to keep their jewels safe. I should reconsider being a lesbian. There are no body parts on a woman to snap off accidentally. Too bad I like men.

My attention is barked back to the present by the tone in the DA’s voice. David is nearly yelling, “But the problem is that he sounds distressed. You can clearly hear him swallow a sob. The jury is going to eat that up! The bastard planned it. We need to prove his tone during the call was all an act.”

Janna Bent is an older woman with frizzy dirty blonde hair that curls uncontrollably. She’s a little thick around the middle, but has a killer rack and a pretty face. She’s also a bitch on steroids when it comes to winning.

“So we don’t use it!” She’s sitting across from David, on the other side of his desk in a well-used chair.

“Then they will! This recording is already admitted into evidence. We’ve been over this, Janna.” David slams his hands down on his desk. He inhales sharply and looks up at me. I’ve been quietly sitting in the corner, picking at the hem of my skirt. “What would you do, Paige?”

He likes that I’m definitive and that I usually have an answer ready to go, but this time I don’t. I buy time. I drop the fabric and look up at him. “Play me the recording again, please.”

He presses the button, and I listen. Through the cheap speaker, Sean Ferro makes a strangled noise, as if his voice won’t come out. With the sound of his voice, an image forms in my head. I picture him crying silently, cradling his dead wife in his arms, and not noticing her blood stain his hands and clothes. And if I can see it, the jury will, too.

Without that part at the beginning, the remainder of the call sounds stoic, precise, like a man thinking clearly. I push up and walk across the room to David's desk. I stop the recording and play the beginning a second time. I play it and stop. Play it and stop. I’m sitting on the edge of his desk, staring into space, and consider it.

“What are you thinking, Paige?” David knows by the expression on my face that I’ve thought of something. The problem is that I'm not sure if I can be this horrible of a person. What if Sean really was cradling her body? What if he really was crying?

This angle will destroy him completely. Any empathy he has left will be eradicated. My eyes sweep the room, considering the stacks of papers and hours of research spent building a case to nail this man. In all that time, we couldn’t find anything to prove, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he planned his wife’s murder or that he committed it.

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