Love at First Flight (34 page)

“No wait, I think I've got it.”

Raising a skeptical eyebrow, she said, “This
had better be good.”

“You're everything to me. You make me
happier than I've ever been in my life. Just knowing you'll be here when I get
home gets me through anything I have to face during the day. I don't know how I
ever lived before I knew you, and the thought of you being in danger because of
me...” He shook his head when he couldn't go on.

She held out her arms to him, and he
rested against her chest.

“How was that?” he asked a minute later.

“Good,” she said in a voice gone hoarse
with emotion. “Really, really good.”

He tilted his face up to hers and was
rewarded with a kiss he would never forget.

***

Over the next two weeks, word got out
among her friends and clients that Juliana was recovering from an accident at
home. In an unprecedented display of selflessness, her sister Donatella
coordinated with the salon to organize appointments for hair styling sessions
for Juliana's closest friends and longest-standing clients in Michael's living
room.

When people asked why she was staying
there, Juliana simply said that she and Jeremy were taking a break to figure
some things out and that she was renting a room from Michael in the meantime.
To her great relief, no one pressed her for more information. While she was
self-conscious about being out in public with the colorful bruise on her face,
she told her sister and close friends that the bruise and the bandage on her
neck were from a car accident.

Juliana enjoyed the parade of friends
who came by to check on her and appreciated Dona's efforts to organize “Juliana's
Salon,” which kept her busy and her mind off her troubles—not to mention it
provided some welcome extra income since her clients insisted on paying her.

One day, Dona even brought their mother
by for lunch and a haircut. Paullina looked better than Juliana had seen her in
years, and she was filled with curiosity about the home health aide who had
brought about such a miraculous transformation in her mother.

Since the Benedettis were in isolation
in jail and didn't know Escalada was dead or what he told Juliana before his
death, Tom and Michael thought it would be safe for her to go back to work—with
her detail in tow—when the bruise on her face healed and she felt ready to
resume her regular life.

When she wasn't acting as the proprietor
of Juliana's Salon, she made good use of the time at home to rear-range almost
every room in Michael's house, to make fabulous dinners that he said he dreamed
about during the long days in court, and to recover from the trauma of her encounter
with Escalada. She also did a lot of thinking about where her life was going as
Jeremy's arrival edged closer. He left a message on her cell phone asking her
to meet him at their house next Saturday morning.

One more week.

***

Michael endured endless days in court
while the defense employed one pathetic tactic after another in an effort to
make the jury forget about the powerful evidence presented by the prosecution.
He wished he could bring a book or a newspaper to read during the ridiculous
parade of witnesses who did nothing to dispel the fact that Marco and Steven
Benedetti, while apparently pillars of the community, had gunned down three
defenseless kids in a parking lot. Michael didn't even bother to cross-examine
most of the defense witnesses.

Finally, at three o'clock on the Friday
before the last weekend Michael might ever spend with Juliana, the defense
rested without calling the defendants to testify. Michael thought their
attorneys had served them well in keeping them off the stand. Most of the legal
analysts following the trial had speculated the Benedettis would not testify on
their own behalf, and Michael agreed with them. But he had been ready if the
defense decided to call them. Judge Stein set closing arguments for nine
o'clock on Monday. The end was in sight.

On the way home, Michael stopped to buy
a bottle of champagne and a dozen yellow roses. He arrived just after four to
find his living room rearranged in a way he never would have considered. It was
perfect. Just like her. Pulsing music and the smell of something that made him
want to drool led him to the kitchen. He found her dancing to the beat at the
stove and was reminded of their first week together. He resisted the urge to
sneak up on her since she had been jumpy after her ordeal with Escalada.

“Hey,” he yelled over the din.

Her face lit up when she turned to find
him there. “You're home early!”

He pulled the champagne and roses from
behind his back. “With presents.”

“Oh, for me? They're gorgeous! Thank
you.” She kissed him. “What's the occasion?”

Michael loved that she appreciated even
the simplest of gestures. “Let me quote: 'your honor, the defense rests.'“

“Yippee! It's almost over then, right?”

“Closing arguments on Monday, and then
it goes to the jury.” He pulled off his tie and unbuttoned the top button of
his shirt.

“Then tonight we celebrate.” She found a
vase for the roses and put them on the dining room table.

“Is Juliana's Salon closed for the day?”

“Sure is. We had a banner day with five
clients.” She tugged a wad of cash out of her back pocket and tried to put it
in his. “Rent.”

He sidestepped her. “Get real, Juliana.
I'm not taking that.” Peeking into a pan simmering on the stove, he asked, “What
are you making?”

She put the money on the counter, but he
knew she'd try again later and looked forward to the wrestling match that would
no doubt ensue.

“It's a new shrimp recipe Mrs. R gave
me. She cut it out of a magazine, so no guarantees.”

“If it tastes as good as it smells,
we've got another winner. I was going to take you out tonight to give you a
break from all the cooking you've been doing.”

She reached up to cover the faded but
still visible bruise on her face. “Not yet. Another couple of days maybe.
Besides, I love to cook.”

“And I love to eat what you cook. I
think I've gained ten pounds since you moved in.”

Juliana wound her arms around his neck. “Why
don't we open that bottle of champagne, light a fire, and hiber-nate all
weekend? It's freezing out anyway.”

With his hands on her hips, he drew her
close to him and leaned in to kiss her. “I like how you think.”

***

Late on Sunday night, after Michael
practiced his closing for Juliana one last time, he snuggled with her in bed. “Thanks
for the excellent suggestions. You'd make a good lawyer.”

“Nan, I'd never make it through all that
school. I don't have the smarts.”

“
Are
you kidding me?
Someone who's smart enough to find a way to make a 911 call
when there's a killer in the same room? Give me a break. You're smarter than
most of the people I went to law school with.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” He turned on his side to
face her. “This was the best weekend I've ever had.”

“It was fun, wasn't it?”

“Is it going to be our last weekend
together, Juliana?” She shook her head. “You've made a decision?”

“I think so,” she said softly, reaching
up to stroke his hair. “When everything happened with Escalada, when he was
holding that knife against my throat, the only thing I could think about was
you and finding a way out of it so I could be with you again.”

“Juliana...” He rested his forehead
against hers where a tiny white mark was all that remained of the cut from the
coffee table glass.

“Jeremy asked me to give him a couple of
days, and I'm going to do that. I have to play it out with him and end it the
right way. You understand, don't you?”

“I'm trying to. It's just the thought of
you...”

“What?”

He ran a hand over the warm, soft skin
of her back. “In bed with him...”

She raised herself up on one elbow. “I'm
not going to sleep with him.”

“You're not?”

“I couldn't. Not after being with you.”

Michael closed his eyes and released a
jagged deep breath. “God, I wish we'd talked about this sooner. I've been
driving myself nuts imagining you with him.”

“I'm sorry.” She combed her fingers
through his hair. “I'm going to hear him out, but that's it.”

He arranged her so she was lying on top
of him. “I love you. I'll love you for the rest of my life. You and only you.”

Juliana kissed the engagement ring
nestled in his chest hair. “Soon, Michael. Soon enough, I hope I can say that,
too.”

“I can wait one more week.” He drew her
down for a kiss. “By this time next Sunday, we'll be free and clear.”

CHAPTER 29

MICHAEL DELIVERED HIS CLOSING FIRST
THING Monday morning. He took the jury through the last day in the lives of
Jose Borges, Timothy Sargant, and Mark Domingos. Earlier, he warned the boys'
families of what he planned to do so they could prepare themselves.

He reminded the jurors of the argument
the boys had with the defendants in the arcade, talked about the testimony of
the boys' friends who witnessed the fight, and reiterated the evidence offered
by the detectives and ballistics experts.

“You heard the eyewitness's chilling
account of the shootings and her description of how ruthlessly the defendants
shot first Mark Domingos, then Jose Borges, and finally Timmy Sargant. All of
this over an arcade game.” He paused for effect like he practiced with Juliana.
“Throughout the course of the trial, you've heard the victims' names
repeatedly. You already know they liked to play video games and they spent
their last moments skateboarding in the parking lot of Jose's apartment
complex. What you maybe don't know is they were honor roll students.” Michael
smiled as he paid tribute to boys he'd never met but had come to know so well
over the last year.

“Jose was an outstanding baseball
player—a prom-ising pitcher with a fierce curve ball—who loved to torment his
little sisters. Timmy made the all-city basketball team in sixth and seventh
grade, and he knew everything there was to know about Star Wars. Mark was on
his way to being an Eagle Scout and played a mean guitar. His hero was Richie
Sambora from Bon Jovi.”

The parents of the boys wept quietly in
the gallery as Michael moved over to lean against the jury box.

“They were good kids who made the fatal
mistake of arguing with two men who were capable of murder.” He paused to let
that thought settle and was satisfied when two of the female jurors dabbed at
their eyes. “My job is to leave you with no doubt that Marco and Steven
Benedetti murdered Jose Borges, Timothy Sargant, and Mark Domingos. If I've
left you with reasonable doubt that it was the Benedettis who pumped one round
after another into those defenseless boys, then you'll have no choice but to
acquit them. But if I've done my job and you have no doubt—no doubt whatsoever
that it was them,” he said, turning to point to the defendants who were both
looking elsewhere, “then you must convict.” Making eye contact with each of the
jurors, Michael said, “Jose, Timmy, and Mark are counting on you. Don't let
them down.”

With an empathetic glance at the boys'
families, he returned to his seat next to George Samuels.

“Perfect,” George whispered. “Spot-on
perfect.”

“Let's hope so,” Michael replied as the
lead defense attorney got up to do her closing. He said a silent thank you to
Juliana who suggested the last line—don't let them down. George was right. It
was perfect.

Michael found it interesting that the
defense attorney didn't refute Rachelle's videotaped testimony in her closing,
which told him she too believed her clients probably had something to do with
the arsenic attack. No doubt the defense attorneys had a few difficult moments
of their own during this trial. She summed up her closing by saying, “They
didn't do it. You must acquit.”

After she sat down, Judge Stein gave the
jury their instructions. Before Michael knew it, the jurors were filing out to
begin deliberations. The Borges, Sargant, and Domingos families were effusive
in their praise of Michael's closing.

“Thank you, Michael, for bringing them
to life again,” Mrs. Sargant whispered as she gripped his hand, her face
pinched with grief and wet with tears. “Thank you for everything.”

“I just hope it was enough.” Michael
would have felt much more confident if Rachelle had been able to testify in
person.

“It's in God's hands now,” Mrs. Sargant
said.

***

As Officer John Tanner escorted Michael
and George back to their office, Michael tried to remember what life had been like
before he was accompanied by police offi-cers everywhere he went.

“That went really well,” George said. “I
don't think there's anything else we could've done.”

“I guess,” Michael said, thinking of
Rachelle and how desperately he wished he had the whole thing to do over again.