“And you just said she would do anything to win. Yet you allowed her to pull me into it.”
“I’m sorry, Susanna. I don’t know what else I can say. Please don’t be mad at me right now. I don’t think I can get through this without you.”
She shook her head. “I’m not mad at you. I’m just really caught off guard by this. Maybe there’s more to what happened with that girl in his office, in which case—”
“There’s not, Susanna. Jason’s no saint, but he’s not some sex maniac.”
“You said the other night that something happened between you. Something bad, and that’s when the two of you stopped . . .” She didn’t need to finish the sentence.
I didn’t understand the transition from my point to hers until I let it sink in. “No. Oh god no. It was nothing like that, I swear.”
“Then what was it?”
“I told you. I just freaked out. And then I think he was scared to be with me after that.”
“That’s not how it sounded when you were talking about it. You said something bad happened, and that you cried. You said you ‘didn’t think he knew that you didn’t want to,’ and then you clammed up. You were making excuses for him for something, Angela. What did he do to you?”
I heard Olivia cough and turned to see her heading toward us, Jason right behind her. Susanna reached into her bag and pulled out a thin stack of stapled papers, folded in half, and tucked them in my purse discreetly. “I printed something out for you. Promise me you’ll read the entire thing and think about it with an open mind. I hope I’m wrong, but please, promise me.”
“Fine. Of course.”
She gave me a hug after walking us to our waiting car. I turned my head as I spotted a photographer in the distance. She told me again that she didn’t need a ride anywhere and waved as we pulled from the curb.
While Jason checked his e-mail on his phone, I snuck a peek inside my purse, parting the fold in the papers to read the headline of the article Susanna had printed for me: “Why Women Don’t Always Know When They’ve Been Raped.”
I snapped my purse shut at the sound of Jason’s voice. “King wasn’t kidding about imminent.”
“Huh?” I was still trying to process the words I had just read.
“Olivia texted me. She already got a zip file from the DA with their discovery. He must have hit the send key right after the hearing.”
“Oh.”
“She’s going to send me a summary with any questions she has.”
“Sounds good.” More hours billed. Good for her, bad for us.
“Thanks again for coming with me. I know it’s not easy.”
“It’s fine.” He reached over to hold my hand, but I pretended not to notice.
I listened as he worked out plans to take our car to the dealer the next morning. I resisted the urge to tell him that six days had passed since I had reminded him we needed service. The world didn’t stop turning because of his legal problems.
“You don’t need it this week?” he whispered.
I shook my head. Where was I going to go?
“I’ll get a loaner just in case.”
I could tell from his expression that he was proud of himself for his own thoughtfulness.
39
From: Olivia Randall To: [email protected] Re: Discovery from NYPD/DA Date: June 6
Good morning, Jason. I went through the zip file ADA King sent me yesterday. Most is what we expected: statements from Rachel, Kerry, Zack, Wilson, and you; DNA testing; footage from W Hotel on the night of the alleged incident. There are a couple of surprises, however:
In the hotel surveillance footage, you and Kerry appear to be arguing as you leave her room. You continue to look upset once you are in the elevator alone. They will depict it as her ejecting you from her room, and you appearing nervous/scared/regretful afterward. They will argue that this proves that your sexual encounter that night was not consensual.
In Kerry’s statement (attached), she claims that when she rejected your advances, you grabbed her, threw her to the bed, and bound her wrists with your leather belt. Contained in discovery were photographs that purport to be injuries of Kerry’s wrists. What I see in the images (also attached) appears consistent with very tight binding (no broken skin, but visible bruising).
A police report from a car accident three years ago. Your passenger was Lana Sullivan, whom police interviewed last week. She claims you hired her for prostitution that night.
We should meet to discuss further, but in the meantime, give some thought to the following questions:
Do you recall an argument with Kerry that night at the W? Why you might have appeared upset?
As we discussed, the DNA on the clothing she gave to NYPD cannot be linked to a specific date. The items are described as a black skirt and black underwear (no further details), turned over in a plastic bag marked with a W Hotel insignia. (She is wearing a black skirt in the W Hotel surveillance video.) It’s easy to imagine that she might have had a spare laundry bag from a hotel chain she uses regularly. Do you recall if Kerry was wearing a black skirt and underwear the last time you saw her? I would like to argue that the DNA was from an encounter you had with her after Rachel Sutton’s complaint became public.
Photos of injuries. I can argue that these aren’t authenticated; there’s no way to establish that the injuries are of her, or could be self-inflicted. But we should discuss whether you have an alternative explanation.
Regarding the prostitution report: any judge would likely suppress this as irrelevant and prejudicial, but I have concerns this could get leaked. You’ve been reluctant to disclose details of other extramarital activities to me, but the fact that they tracked down a prostitute from three years ago means they are searching for a pattern of misconduct. Janice Martinez will do the same. We should discuss what that narrative will look like if it all goes public. On that note: any movement regarding Angela’s position on this point? I know she’s concerned about protecting her background, but there would be no need to mention Pittsburgh, etc., although that would of course be ideal.
A sit-down interview with a friendly outlet—maybe her friend Susanna—would be very well-timed. All she’d need to say is that whatever understanding the two of you had is a private matter and that she has full confidence in your innocence. She did not seem receptive when I broached the subject. I know you’re not willing to ask directly. I plan to discuss with Colin.
40
When Colin called and offered to bring lunch, I was expecting takeout Chinese or deli sandwiches. Instead, he arrived with a shopping bag with the logo of Gotham Bar & Grill.
He began unpacking carefully stacked containers from the bag. “I know how cooped up you’ve been. I figured I could at least bring the best of the city to you.” My trip to the courthouse with Jason the previous day had been a rare excursion from the house.
“You’re not working today?” He was wearing a fitted plaid shirt and jeans instead of his usual Big Law suit.
“A closing got postponed. Figured I deserved a day off.”
Opening the containers, I spotted all of my favorite dishes: tuna tartare, seafood salad, mushroom risotto, sliced duck breast, a pork chop. “Is a small army joining us?”
“I wanted you to have some choices, and I figured you and Jason could use the leftovers.”
I started to get plates from the cupboard, but he stopped me.
“Go have a seat.” I sat at the kitchen table while he pulled dishes, silverware, and glasses from the cupboards. A stranger watching us would have assumed he lived here. The finishing touch was the final item waiting in the bag: a bottle of Sancerre, wrapped in a chiller sack.
“You are an angel,” I said as he took a seat next to me.