Torn (Lords of the City #1) (61 page)

“Do you happen to know Mr. Simmons’s schedule? I’d rather not interrupt any of his classes if I can help it.”

“His planning period is from two to three. If you want, I’ll tell him to expect you.”

“That will be perfect,” he agreed. He got back on his feet and ushered us out of the room.

“Just hold tight, kids. I know this has been rough. But now that we have pictures of two suspects, it’s only a matter of time before they’re in custody.”

“I
can’t believe how many reporters are outside,” I groaned, my stomach churning with nerves. I looked around the packed courtroom and wondered how many of the spectators believed I was a battered girlfriend.

“It’s going to be okay, kiddo,” Walt assured me. “Frank told me he spent a lot of time on the phone with the prosecutor this morning. I don’t think this hearing is going to go the way you’re expecting.”

“I hope you’re right. But I have to say I’d have a little more faith if Frank were here. Ethan’s hearing starts in five minutes,” I whispered, my pulse racing.

After a lot of thought, Ethan decided to change his plea to no contest to the assault charges instead of continuing on with a trial. Frank spoke to the prosecutor, who agreed he wouldn’t push for jail time.

I stared at Ethan as he sat quietly at the defense table. I wanted so badly for the nightmare to be over for him. I said a silent prayer that the prosecutor would keep his word and Frank finally pushed through the courtroom doors.

“Sorry,” he whispered as he passed us.

He moved with quick, excited gestures as he made his way to the front of the courtroom. He dropped a file on the prosecutor’s desk before taking a seat next to Ethan. They huddled together and after a few moments, Ethan pulled away looking just as excited as our lawyer.

Oh my God. Did we finally catch a break?

A wave of adrenaline washed over me and my heart skipped with excitement. Something happened and by the looks of it, it was good news.

“All rise,” the bailiff instructed. “This court is now in session. Her Honorable Judge Liesel Henshaw is presiding.”

A tall, formidable looking woman with a round face stepped through the side door and settled down behind the bench.

“You may be seated,” she called out. She slid a pair of reading glasses up her nose and peered down at the file.

“We’re here to discuss the charges against Ethan McAlister,” she began. “Mr. Feldstein, feel free to begin your opening statement.”

The prosecutor rose to his feet. “Your Honor, the defendant himself has admitted he assaulted Mr. Montez. Why he entered a not guilty plea is beyond me, quite frankly. The defense is going to try to persuade you to believe Mr. McAlister was provoked, and therefore not responsible for his actions. I will call multiple witnesses who witnessed the attack first-hand and can attest to the fact that Mr. McAlister was completely in control. I trust that your honor will see the defendant’s excuses for exactly what they are: excuses.”

The prosecutor returned to his chair and Frank left his. “Your Honor, the state’s witnesses will not be necessary. We’re willing to concede that Mr. McAlister hit Mr. Montez several times with his closed fist. We simply request that the court listen to a new witness who just came forward this morning.”

“If you’re admitting your client’s guilt, I think we’re done here,” the judge replied, her voice irritated and dismissive.

“Your Honor, due to my client’s profession, the state has charged him with second-degree assault. They basically declared his body a deadly weapon. I feel the new witness will shed light on my client’s behavior and perhaps persuade you to reduce the charges.”

“Mr. Feldstein?” the judge asked.

He cleared his throat and rose slightly out of his seat. “If the defendant is admitting guilt, the state is fine with the defense’s request.”

“Very well, counselor. But make your point quickly.”

“The defense calls Doctor Harold Levin to the stand,” Frank announced.

A tall man with gray hair and fallen, defeated shoulders made his way to the stand. The bailiff swore him in and Frank approached the stand.

“Doctor Levin, please tell us where you’re employed.”

“I am the lead physician for the National Anti-Doping Initiative.”

Frank nodded. “You drug test athletes predominately, yes?”

“Yes,” he agreed, his eyes darting nervously around the room.

“Were you present when the defendant was tested at Stallions Stadium on Saturday, January ninth of this year?”

“Yes,” he agreed again, his voice heavy with guilt.

“The results of that test?”

“They were positive.”

“Positive… are you aware that seven hours later, the defendant had a second test, which came back clear of any drugs? And that he’s passed two subsequent tests?”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“Your lab is currently verifying the results of those tests, correct?”

“Correct.”

Where is this going?

The doctor was sweating so hard, I half expected him to melt into a puddle on the witness stand.

“Doctor Levin, how long do anabolic steroids stay in someone’s system?”

“Two to three months, in most cases.”

“As an expert in this field, how do you explain the contradicting test results?”

The doctor let out a long breath and closed his eyes. “I altered Mr. McAlister’s results at the request of Victor Montez.”

I must be dreaming. This is too perfect to be reality.

“Did Mr. Montez pay you to alter the results?” Frank pressed on.

“No. Mr. Montez has certain… evidence of a personal indiscretion. He blackmailed me into changing the results.”

“Thank you for coming forward, Doctor Levin. I have no further questions.”

Frank returned to his table and the prosecutor sprang to his feet.

“Doctor Levin, what is the nature of this so-called evidence Mr. Montez has against you?”

The pained look on the doctor’s face made my heart ache for him. I hated that the prosecutor asked the question, but I was curious to hear the answer.

“I cheated on my wife,” Levin confessed. “It happened several years ago, at one of Mr. Montez’s casinos. He has video that I thought would ruin my life.”

“And why have you come forward now? Did Mr. McAlister offer you protection, money?”

“No, sir. I came forward because it’s the right thing to do. It’s what I should have done in the first place, after Victor confronted me with the video. I confessed to my wife yesterday and called Ethan’s attorney this morning. I fully understand that coming forward means the end of my career. But I couldn’t live with myself if I hadn’t.”

The prosecutor nodded. “Did Mr. Montez tell you why he wanted you to tamper with Mr. McAlister’s test results?”

“He said Ethan wasn’t doing as he was told and needed to be taught a lesson.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I have no more questions.”

“The witness is excused,” the judge declared.

The prosecutor stayed on his feet. “Your Honor, the defendant has already admitted his guilt. The state is willing to reduce the charge to fourth-degree assault, in light of the new witness.”

“Very well, counselor. I approve. Mr. McAlister, please stand.”

Ethan and Frank rose to their feet.

“I hereby find you guilty of assault in the fourth degree. I understand that Mr. Montez provoked you, and I find it appalling. As was your reaction. I’m sentencing you to two years of probation and a six-month anger management program. I understand that violence is a part of your life, Mr. McAlister. But keep it on the football field. If I see you in my court again, I won’t be so lenient.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a grateful nod.

“Court is dismissed,” she declared. She halfheartedly knocked her gavel on the desk and Ethan turned to me with a sad smile. I leaned over the half wall partition and wrapped him in a hug.

“This couldn’t have gone better,” I whispered into his ear.

“I know,” he agreed, holding me tighter. “A part of me was still hoping I’d get out of this without probation. I need to talk to Frank and see if I’ll be required to stay in Oregon.”

“I know you’re worried about your career. But I’m happy just knowing you’re not going to jail.”

“That’s definitely an upside,” he agreed, pulling away with a grin.

“Congratulations, Ethan,” Walt said. He reached for a handshake and pulled Ethan into a hug. “I’m going to introduce myself to Doctor Levin and thank him for coming forward. Want to join me?”

“Definitely,” Ethan agreed.

“In a minute. First, I’m going to the restroom,” I told them.

Ethan planted a soft kiss on my forehead, then he and Walt joined Frank and the doctor near the witness stand. As the relief started sinking in, I suddenly became very aware of the crowd and all the noise they were making. No one was leaving the courtroom, and I realized they were all hoping for a photo op.

Nice. Yesterday, they were ready to lynch him.

I was relieved to find the women’s room empty. I peed, washed my hands, and nearly walked straight into Marsha as I swung open the bathroom door. She stumbled backwards a few steps, then met my eyes with a glare.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded. I looked her up and down, a bit confused by her sudden change of style. She’d traded in her usually tailored looked for baggy mom jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. Her hair was pulled into a low, messy ponytail and her face was cosmetics free.

She must have wanted to blend in with the crowd.

“I came to support Ethan,” she lied.

“That’s horseshit and you know it. You set all of this in motion. You have no regard for anyone but yourself, do you, Marsha? You tried to mastermind your own child’s destruction. Not to mention what you did to poor little Alfie.”

Her eyes widened and I could tell my last comment caught her off guard. “That little boy from your class? You think I was the one who hurt him?” I could tell the confusion in her voice was genuine, but it didn’t slow me down.

“Don’t stand there pretending to be innocent. Ethan and I both know what you’ve been up to. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my fiancé.”

I pushed past her and continued on to the courtroom. Walt and the bailiff were waiting for me just outside the door.

“Ethan was about to be mobbed, so a few of the guards escorted him and Frank to the car,” he explained. “Officer Carlton waited to escort us.”

“Thank you. I’m ready to get out of here.” I took my uncle’s arm and he gave it a gentle pat.

“I’m sure you’re ready to relax, now that all of this is over,” Walt observed.

“Who said anything about relaxing? Now that I know neither of us is going to prison, I have a wedding to plan.”

***

“Want another glass of wine, baby?” Ethan asked. He stood at the bar cart and poured himself a third glass of sangria.

“No, two is my limit tonight. It’s a school night, remember? Besides, we still have a ton of work to do,” I reminded him. Ethan and I were in a spare bedroom he was converting into a home office. I sat crossed legged on a leather chaise lounge with two different binders in front of me. One was full of wedding plans, the other held ideas for renovating the house.

“In the past two hours, we’ve agreed on a location, finalized the guest list, and hired a caterer. What else could we possibly have to do?”

I flipped through the wedding binder. “Well, we have to choose our colors, decide if we want a DJ or a band, you still need to pick your groomsmen, we need flowers, linens, the list goes on and on. And we told the contractor we’d have our tile and carpet decisions to him by Friday, and we haven’t even opened that box of samples he sent over.”

“Okay, okay,” Ethan relented. “We have a ton to get done. But I feel like we’ve been moving ninety miles an hour since the hearing. I think we deserve to slow down and catch our breath.”

I sighed and closed my binders. “I know. But I have so much extra stuff coming up at work. And we’ve booked the garden for June. I feel like if I don’t get everything in order now, we’re going to run out of time.”

Ethan sat down on the chaise lounge and wiggled behind me, pulling my back to his chest.

“Fine, we can keep planning if you want,” he relented.

I pushed the binders to the foot of the chair and snuggled against Ethan. “You’re right. We deserve a chance to catch our breath.” Just as I was getting comfortable, Ethan’s phone rang. He shifted his weight to one hip and pulled the phone from his pocket. He started down at the screen, obviously confused.

“Who is it?”

“Mark Daniels. He’s the team manager. I’m sorry, Em. I have to take this. Hello?”

I slid forward so Ethan could stand up. He crawled out of the chair and started pacing the room.

“No… no, Emily and I have gotten out of the habit of watching the news. No reporters. We have an app that sends unrecognized numbers straight to voicemail… Really? I had my suspicions, but I never imagined it ran that deep. Yes, it is a shame… I see. Are you sure?”

Excitement grew in Ethan’s voice and he turned to me with a smile, still talking to Mark. “Thank you very much, Mark. Yes. Yes, I agree. Let me talk to Emily and I will call you back… okay, talk to you soon.” He hung up the phone and let out a triumphant yelp.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

He pulled me to my feet and wrapped me into a bear hug. “You’re not going to believe this. Victor’s been arrested.”

“
What?”

He released me and nodded, the jubilant smile still plastered across his face. “After the hearing, the prosecutor sat down with Doctor Levin. The doctor gave him enough information for the judge to sign off on a warrant. The cyber division broke into Victor’s email account. He’s been arrested for everything from conspiracy, coercion, fraud, and a host of other crimes.”

“I can’t believe it. This is such wonderful news!” I hugged him again, elated. Ethan squeezed me once and then pulled away.

“It gets even better. Victor’s in deep shit. So deep that the league has ruled him unfit to own a franchise. Seems old Vic has violated nearly every article of that morality clause he was holding over my head.”