Liar Liar Page 4

  Room service and romantic comedies took up what remained of the afternoon and evening. They started getting ready for bed around 10:00. As Nicole made up the fold-out bed in the living room, Mary Ellen said, “Aren’t you going to sleep in your room?”

  “No,” Nicole said. “I have to make sure you don’t go out again.”

  “But I won’t,” Mary Ellen said. “I promised.”

  “I believe you. But your lawyers insisted I sleep between you and the front door.”

  “Okay,” Mary Ellen said. “But you can trust me. I’m not going anywhere.”

  The night passed peacefully, and Mary Ellen was true to her word. There was no repeat of the previous night’s outing.

  When morning came, Nicole called Josh before she got out of bed. As they were about to hang up, he said, “Look, why don’t we meet for lunch?”

  “I’d love that,” she said. “But I have to stay within an easy drive of the courthouse. They want me to look after Mary Ellen when today’s session ends, and there’s no telling what time that will be.”

  “If I’m not too swamped, I’ll come to you,” Josh said. “Will you be at the hotel?”

  “No. I think I’ll go into the office. I’m sick of this place, and I won’t have anything to do after I drop her off at court.”

  “Wait a minute.” His voice had that edge to it. “You told me you wouldn’t have to go to court with her.”

  “Quit worrying,” she said. “I’m just delivering her. I’ll stay in the limo; it has dark windows. No one will see me.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “Okay, then,” Josh said. “I’m heading for work. I’ll see you around noon.”

  Nicole dressed and ordered breakfast. Around 7:30, she knocked on Mary Ellen’s door. There was no response. She went into the girl’s room and found her hunched under the blankets.

  “Time to get up,” Nicole said.

  Mary Ellen moaned and pulled the covers over her head.

  Nicole sat down on the bed, put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, and gently shook her. “Today’s the day, Mary Ellen. You have to get up.”

  “Just a few more minutes,” the girl said. “Please.”

  “OK, but next time you really are getting up.”

  Nicole set her phone to alert her in five minutes. When she went back, the girl still wouldn’t budge. Finally, Nicole pulled Mary Ellen’s arm until the girl sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She stumbled into the bathroom.

  Twenty minutes later, Nicole knocked on the door. There was a long pause before it opened.

  “Mary Ellen!” Nicole said, thrusting the girl’s clothes at her. “You have to get dressed! The limousine will be here in half an hour.”

  At 8:30, she knocked on the bathroom door again and went in. Mary Ellen was in a fog. She was dressed, but her hair wasn’t brushed, and she was still barefoot.

  “Have you cleaned your teeth?” Nicole said. When the girl nodded, she said, “Wash your face. I’ll help with the rest.” She went into the bedroom to find a comb and brush. She quickly fixed the girl’s hair and had her sit on the toilet lid to put on her shoes.

  “Wait!” Mary Ellen stood up. “I’m going to be sick.” Indeed, her face had gone white, and beads of sweat dotted her forehead.

  “Sit down, put your head between your knees, and take long, deep breaths,” Nicole said. Then she added, “I know what you’re going through. Appearing in court is scary. But you aren’t on the stand today. You won’t have to do anything. Jury selection starts in thirty minutes. We can’t be late.”

  At 8:50, they were in the hotel’s back alley, getting into a black sedan with dark-tinted windows.

  “How long does it take to get to the Santa Monica Courthouse?” Nicole asked the driver. “We have to be there by nine.”

  “It’s not far,” he said “You’ll make it.”

  Nicole glanced over at Mary Ellen. Her face was ashen. Nicole told her to put her head between her knees again. The girl complied.

  A few minutes later they pulled up in front of the Santa Monica Courthouse, a three-story block of utilitarian architecture from the 1950s. The front lawn was packed with reporters, photographers, and camera crews. Several news vans were double parked, tying up traffic. Their driver wove his way past the confusion, turned the corner, and pulled up to the curb.

  Nearby was the side entrance where they were to drop off Mary Ellen. Barriers manned by six police officers created a wide path to keep reporters and trial junkies at a distance.

  Waiting on the sidewalk was Sue’s paralegal, Alise. Nicole recognized her from the office. Mary Ellen was about to get out of the car when she got a good look at Alise. Tall and rangy, the young woman had a long face and dark, intense eyes. Her hair was pulled tight into a bun. Nicole was sure Alise was good at her job, but her severe appearance was off-putting. Indeed, the sight of her seemed to throw Mary Ellen into a panic. She sat back down and turned to Nicole, eyes brimming. “Please come with me. I can’t do this alone.”

  “You won’t be alone. Alise will take good care of you. I promise. I’ll be back to pick you up as soon as it’s over.” Nicole pulled Mary Ellen into a hug. She was actually shaking. “You’ll be fine,” Nicole said, as she patted Mary Ellen’s back.

  Mary Ellen looked out the window. Her eyes were enormous, darting around at the noisy crowd and then to Alise, who by now had opened the door and taken a firm grip of Mary Ellen’s arm. After a moment’s resistance, Mary Ellen allowed herself to be pulled from the car. Reporters were waving microphones in their direction and shouting questions. The police and the barricade kept them away so the two women could dash into the courthouse. Nicole waited until they disappeared inside before she told the driver to take her to her office.

  Colbert and Smith Investigations was located in a tall white building across from the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Nicole didn’t really have to come in, since she’d worked all weekend. But she was at loose ends, and this would give her a chance to keep up with her assignments.

  Josh called at 11:30 a.m. to say he wasn’t going to make it; he had too much work. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really miss you.”

  “I know,” she said. “I miss you, too.”

  “TMZ had a video this morning of Mary Ellen arriving at the courthouse with all those paparazzi outside,” he said. “Just knowing you were in that car—.”

  “Well, they didn’t see me, and there’s no way they’re going to,” she said. “Call me tonight, okay?”

  Sue called Nicole at 3:00 to say that the jury had been chosen, and the judge had adjourned for the day. Nicole summoned the limo. They picked up Mary Ellen at the courthouse, then took a circuitous route to the hotel in order to lose the paparazzi tailing them. Back in the suite, the girl was subdued, spending the rest of the day in her room. She came out for dinner, played with her food, and went back to her room. Nicole could hear her murmuring on the phone. Although she kept her voice low, it sounded like she was arguing with whoever was at the other end.

  Around 10:00, Mary Ellen came out again, carrying her pj’s and a cosmetics bag. She disappeared into the bathroom to get ready for bed. Nicole, who was waiting to do her own bedtime regimen, wondered why such an expensive suite would have just a single bathroom. Once Mary Ellen was done, Nicole showered, figuring it would save time in the morning. Then she made up the couch into a bed.

  Before turning in, she went to check on Mary Ellen. She knocked gently on the door, and, getting no response, opened it. The room was partially illuminated by the lights on the pier a ways up the beach. Nicole could see Mary Ellen lying in bed, fast asleep. She closed the door

  Climbing into bed, Nicole glanced at the clock. It was 11:30. Her mind was racing, and despite how tired she was, she couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking about the girl and how frightened she must be. She wished she could go in to court to offer her support. But, no. That wasn’t possible—not without exposing hersel
f to a lot of nasty publicity. Still, given the girl’s emotional state, Nicole wondered how she’d be able to testify. Oceanside’s sports-minded alums had hired a top defense attorney for Doshan. If Mary Ellen was falling apart at the prospect of sitting through jury selection, how would she hold up under cross examination?

  Nicole tried not to think about it. She was too tired. Then a new worry popped into her head: Joanne was pretty sick. What if she didn’t get better in time to take over this week? The care of this frightened and unpredictable girl would fall to Nicole. Worse yet, she might very well catch the attention of the tabloids and paparazzi. She lay awake a long time, wondering if she’d made a terrible mistake agreeing to this assignment.

  Four

  Today was the day the lawyers would present their opening statements. But the main event would be Mary Ellen’s testimony. Her performance was crucial to the trial’s outcome.

  Nicole rose early, dressed and sat down to the breakfast she’d ordered the night before, perusing the L.A. Times while she ate. An article about the trial was featured on the front page of the California section, accompanied by a photo of Doshan on the football field. Mary Ellen’s picture was relegated to the continuation page. It had been taken while the media was mobbing her at the airport. She looked miserable, and the photographer had caught her at her worst.

  She turned to her iPad to see what the tabloids had to say. They each carried briefs about the upcoming trial. One was accompanied by yet another bad photo of Mary Ellen. It also featured a video clip of one of Doshan’s feats on the football field. Even Nicole, who knew little about the game, could see what a gifted athlete he was.

  Mary Ellen was awake when Nicole went in to get her up. “What a night,” she complained as she got out of bed.

  “Didn’t you sleep?” Nicole said.

  “Hardly. I kept having nightmares. You know, about being cornered by those guys with cameras. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.” Mary Ellen paused, and added, almost as an afterthought: “Except when Doshan…” She left the sentence unfinished.

  Room service had delivered Mary Ellen’s breakfast along with Nicole’s, but the girl refused to eat or even have coffee. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t think I can keep anything down,” she said. “Would you mind helping me choose what to wear?”

  Nicole picked out a simple black A-line skirt and a blue crew-necked sweater with black boots. She pulled the necklace with the little gold cross out from under the sweater.

  Once Mary Ellen was dressed, Nicole took time to fix the girl’s hair. Instead of letting it hang straight, she pulled the front sections back, fastening them with a clip at the crown of her head. The style made her look childlike and innocent, one hair bow away from Alice in Wonderland.

  They were already in the alley behind the hotel when their driver arrived. At the courthouse, the crowd had grown from the day before; there were now six TV vans, even more people armed with cameras, and a throng of spectators.

  Once again, Alise was waiting at the curb. As soon as they pulled up, she opened the door, leaned in, and held out her hand. Mary Ellen shrank back, sliding across the seat toward Nicole.

  “This is all a terrible mistake,” Mary Ellen said. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

  “You have to,” Alise said. “WAR spent months preparing this case. Now it all depends on you.”

  Nicole could see this was the wrong approach. Applying pressure was just going to upset the girl more. “It’s okay, Alise,” she said. “Why don’t you give us a minute.”

  After a slight hesitation, Alise stepped back and, at Nicole’s gesture, closed the limo door. “What’s going on, Mary Ellen?” Nicole said. “Tell me.”

  The girl started to cry, and her words came out in a rush. “I can’t go in there and talk about it in front of all those people. And him there…” she paused and seemed to gain a little more control of herself. “I thought—I guess I thought it would be different. A small room—just the judge and a few lawyers.”

  “Listen to me,” Nicole said. “You’ve been very brave. You’ve spoken up, and you’re in the right. Something bad happened to you, and you want to prevent it from happening to anyone else.”

  “I don’t care. They can drag me in there, but I won’t testify. They can’t make me.”

  Now what? Nicole thought. She reached across the weeping girl and opened the door. “Alise,” she said. “Go find Sue. Tell her we need her.”

  As Alise headed into the courthouse, Nicole closed the car door and put her arm around Mary Ellen. “You’re going to be fine,” she said soothingly, as if talking to a child. “Go ahead and have a good cry. It will make you feel better. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  It wasn’t long before Sue arrived at the car, along with another woman. It took a moment for Nicole to realize it was Geneva Ford, completely transformed. In place of the white, close-cropped hair, she now was sporting a brunette bob, which had to be a wig, although it looked real enough. The do was flattering, making her look younger and more hip.

  Sue opened the car door. “What’s going on?”

  “Just a bad case of stage fright,” Nicole said. She looked back at Mary Ellen. The girl had stopped crying and was snuffling into a tissue.

  “I’ll do it if she comes with me,” Mary Ellen’s voice was hoarse from crying. She turned to Nicole. “You’re the only one who cares. I’ll be okay if you’re there.”

  Sue and Geneva were looking at Nicole expectantly. “But I can’t—” she began. Then, realizing this could blow the case, she reluctantly agreed. She did a quick inventory of her appearance. She was already wearing her sunglasses. She reached into her bag for her hat, but it wasn’t there; she’d left it at the hotel. She took a deep breath and got out of the car, pulling the girl with her. As they hurried up the path to the courthouse, a murmur went through the crowd, and someone shouted her name. Other reporters joined in. “What are you doing here, Nicole?” someone yelled. And “How do you know Mary Ellen?” “What’s your connection with this case?”

  She never thought she’d have to endure this kind of attention again, but here it was. Was it coincidence, bad luck, or karma for something she’d done in an earlier life? And why hadn’t she seen it coming? She thought of Josh and her stomach churned.

  The hubbub faded as the courthouse door closed behind them. Once they were inside, no one seemed to recognize them. They headed up the crowded stairway and went through an unmarked door. It led to a hallway that brought them to the front of the courtroom.

  Alise started to propel Nicole to the front row of the visitors’ gallery, but Mary Ellen grabbed Nicole’s arm. “She has to sit next to me,” she said.

  “The front table is reserved for counsel and plaintiff, Mary Ellen,” Alise said. “Nicole doesn’t belong there.”

  “Then I’m leaving!” The girl got up as if to head for the door.

  Sue stepped forward and put her hand on Mary Ellen’s shoulder. “It’s okay. We’ll tell the judge you need her for emotional support. He’ll understand.”

  Just then, Doshan and his attorneys entered on the opposite side of the room and sat at the defense table. Mary Ellen glanced at Doshan, then looked quickly away.

  From the Internet, Nicole knew what he looked like. But seeing him in person was completely different. He was enormous—six-foot-five—dwarfing the lawyers who were with him. Doshan was dressed in a slim-fit navy suit, white shirt, and gray-and-navy tie. He had close-cropped hair and his skin was a dark, burnished copper. He was very handsome. If he had a flaw, it was his ears, which fit closely to his head at the bottom and flared out at the top, like sugar-bowl handles. Most of the photos Nicole had seen showed his broad smile and deep dimples, but he wasn’t smiling now. Staring straight ahead, he looked grim and unhappy.

  She hadn’t really thought about his fate in relation to this trial. Until now she’d assumed he was guilty and deserved to pay for it. But if the case went against him
, the stigma and, most likely a financial penalty, could wreck his life. With his beauty—for he was indeed beautiful—his athletic talent, and his leadership qualities, it seemed a terrible waste. What a stupid way for someone to throw away his life.

  It wasn’t long before spectators began to file in. Two young men, almost as big as Doshan, were among the first. They sat in the third row, immediately behind the seats reserved for the media. When Mary Ellen saw them, she stiffened, drew a deep breath, and flushed.

  “What’s wrong?” Nicole whispered, but the girl didn’t answer. In response, Sue jotted something on her yellow legal pad and turned it for Nicole to read. “Doshan’s teammates,” it said. “The one on the left is his best friend.”

  Nicole glanced at them again. They were big guys. One was a Latino who was wide as well as tall. The one on the left—Doshan’s buddy—had buzz-cut blond hair, flat on top like a marine’s and a tattoo that ran up the right side of his neck from under the collar of his shirt. It was a snake’s head, which made her wonder if the creature’s body was tattooed on his chest. As if he sensed her stare, he looked at Nicole and their eyes met. He gave her a sardonic smile and winked. She was the first to look away.

  By now Mary Ellen had swiveled her chair around and was openly staring at the men. Her lips were parted slightly, her expression unreadable. Sue leaned over, whispered in Mary Ellen’s ear, and turned her chair so she faced front again.

  After court was called to order, Geneva stood and asked to confer with the judge. She approached the bench, and one of Doshan’s lawyers joined her. They kept their voices low. When they were done, Geneva nodded at Nicole, who moved up to take the seat next to Mary Ellen.

  Geneva then turned and faced the jury to begin her opening statement. After introducing herself, she delivered an impassioned speech about how Mary Ellen was raped and, almost as bad, Oceanside University refused to believe her story and give her the support she needed. The university had also failed to protect her by neglecting to have campus police patrol the grounds on the night in question and then failed to address the crime by refusing to punish the perpetrator. Nicole was surprised by how different this Geneva was from the person she’d met two days before. The hard edge and argumentative tone were gone. Her voice was soft, reasonable, and persuasive. She focused on the jurors, making eye contact with each. Whenever she turned her head, her shining, dark hair swung forward on one side or the other. The effect was almost hypnotic.