Dark Valentine by Jennifer Fulton

Author:Jennifer Fulton [Fulton, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Gay & Lesbian, Mystery & Detective, Fiction, Women Sleuths, Lesbian, General
ISBN: 9781933110790
Google: yeX3AQAACAAJ
Amazon: 1933110791
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2007-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Rhianna looked straight ahead as she made her way to the witness box. The courtroom seemed smaller than she remembered from her walk-through with Norman Clay the previous Friday. It had been empty and she had been able to fully appreciate the innate dignity of the high plaster ceilings, cherrywood panels, and orderly straight-backed pews. A sense of awe had driven her worst fears away. She was to have her day in court, to tell her story and accuse her attacker in the hallowed halls of justice.

Even now, with people milling around and a drone of noise gathering as she approached the front of the room, Rhianna still felt safe in this physical symbol of civilization. The rule of law was the glue that enabled communities to function. The right of an individual to be heard was nowhere more fundamental than in a courtroom. Everything will be all right, she thought as she climbed the steps to the stand and the bailiff closed the gate after her.

She stared up at the American flag and the man sitting at the bench below it. According to the prosecutor, Judge Oscar P. Tuttle III was a levelheaded magistrate who had no time for fools. He was a big man with a domed head and chins that overlapped. Rhianna met his eyes briefly just before the clerk told her to raise her right hand and swear to tell the truth. After the oath, she had to state her name and spell it. She could feel so many eyes on her that she could not quite stop her voice from shaking. She wanted to look directly at Werner Brigham, to show she was not intimidated, but she wasn’t ready. Instead she allowed herself the comfort of a quick glance at her parents, who were to her left, sitting a couple of rows behind the prosecutor’s table. Her mom gave her a discreet wave and her dad looked teary eyed, but they both had an air of stoic determination about them.

Just as she’d been told during the trial preparation, the prosecutor got up and walked to a spot near the jury and started asking her questions about herself. These were intended to introduce her to the jury. Norman Clay’s calm, supportive expression helped settle her nerves, and Rhianna remembered to look at the jury as she spoke. She knew they’d been instructed not to show emotion. All the same, she caught some tiny encouraging nods, enough to suggest she’d made a good first impression. Relieved, she took the victim advocate’s advice and found the friendliest face among the twelve so she could keep coming back to that juror.

Eventually she would have to look over to the other side of the room, at her attacker, but for the moment she enjoyed the petty satisfaction of ignoring him. He was hating it, she imagined. Already she had caught a hum of noise from the table where he and his high-priced defense team were sitting. Resisting the urge

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