I’ve missed you, Jordan had said, which was something he had always liked about her. She was strong in her own way, which was darker than Maggie’s way. Still he tried not to compare the two women. He loved Maggie. He’d never loved Jordan.
You look busy, Noah had said instead. He hadn’t missed Jordan until Anna had stirred everything up, not only the fighting but problems he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge in his marriage. Something had been missing. He’d realized what it was, looking down at Jordan who was looking up at him, her smile so lovely, her cami gaping in her cleavage. In her eyes, he felt like a man again, not a dad or a doc. He hadn’t felt like that since the early days with Maggie, when they’d clawed each other in bed. But after the forty-pound bags of mulch, the double coupons, and the parents’ nights, they’d lost something that no amount of date nights could fix. He couldn’t say exactly when, because time was a funny thing, backwards and forwards, from the tradeshow to the courtroom and somehow all the same. Somewhere along the line he’d lost himself. He’d become a husband, not a man.
No-ha, wanna meet me for a drink later?
Why not?
Come to my room at eight, number 317. I’ll bring the scotch. You bring the ha.
Noah had felt an unaccountable thrill. Of course she’d remembered he drank scotch. She was what his mother used to call a man’s woman.
Suddenly another group of doctors had come over, and he’d watched as Jordan’s expression had changed, the sexy warmth morphing to a cheery professionalism, and it had struck him that maybe there had been a face that she’d reserved only for him, that she did still love him. He’d left the trade floor and attended the afternoon session and the breakout, taking notes, sipping iced water from the ugly plastic pitcher, eating butterscotch candies, and checking his phone to see if Jordan had texted. She’d been an inveterate texter, being young.
Noah had moderated the final panel feeling more alert than he had in weeks, on top of his game. He’d handled the question-and-answer session with dispatch, then had an obligatory beer with his buddies, but begged off going to the evening speaker. At eight o’clock, he’d knocked on the door of Jordan’s room, not completely surprised when she’d opened it wearing only a hotel bathrobe.
I knew you’d come, Jordan had said, taking him by the arm, phone in hand, and Noah had let her close the door behind him, and she’d come fully into his arms, standing on tiptoe to kiss him and press herself against him, her breasts naked against the laminated name badge with its red satin Moderator ribbon.
Ouch, Jordan had said, stepping back. Your name tag scratched me.
Oh, sorry. Noah had spotted a red welt above her magnificent breasts, and it had broken the spell. He wasn’t a guy who cheated in a hotel room, surrounded by a cheap coffeemaker, a scummy remote, and Spectravision. He had a laminated name badge with a red ribbon. He was the Moderator of Panel 2508, Childhood Asthma & Environment; Problems at the Playground. He was the guy they counted on for order. The guy who made sure nobody monopolized the session. The most responsible guy of all. That guy.
What’s the matter, No-ha? Jordan had asked, confused.
I don’t know what I’m doing here.
Yes you do. Jordan had stepped toward him, raising her lovely arms, closing her eyes and opening her mouth for a kiss, but Noah had caught her wrist, stopping her.
No, don’t. I’m remarried. I’m a father.
You were a father before. Jordan had slipped her right arm inside his jacket and pulled her body against him, but he’d held her off, his hand on her shoulder, more firmly.
Jordan, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I can’t do this.
Yes, you can. Nobody has to know, just you and me.
Still I can’t. Noah had felt the words spilling out, he’d known he’d been talking to himself.
Come on, No-ha. Just this once.
No, I love my wife and Caleb. I have a new stepdaughter, Anna. We’re giving her a big party Saturday night, it’s a whole thing – But No-ha, I know how to make you feel good – I can’t. Noah edged back and reached for the doorknob. I shouldn’t have let you think this was going to happen.
But you can’t walk out on me –
I can’t stay. Noah had slipped out the door, but Jordan had grabbed it and held it open.
Noah, you’ll regret this! Jordan had shouted, but he hadn’t looked back.
‘Dr Kapoor,’ Linda was saying, snapping Noah into the present. ‘How long would it take to strangle a young woman like Anna Desroches?’
‘It takes approximately two to five minutes to strangle a person by hand, unless that person had drugs or alcohol in their system, or was unconscious.’
‘Were alcohol or drugs found in Anna’s system?’
‘No.’
‘What did you conclude about whether Anna was conscious or not, when she was strangled?’
‘I concluded she was conscious.’
The jury fell silent. Noah could see them, curling their upper lips in disgust, imagining the scene.
‘Dr Kapoor, what findings do you expect if a person is conscious when they are strangled?’
‘There will be a struggle, and I would expect to find fingernail marks from the victim on their own neck, from where they were trying to pry off the hands of their killer.’
‘Did you find such fingernail marks in this case, on Anna’s neck?’
‘No, because the victim’s fingernails were so short, bitten to the quick on some fingers. In addition, typically in a strangulation case, I would be able to take scrapings from under the fingernails of the victim and I would expect to find DNA of the perpetrator underneath the fingernails, in the form of skin cells. Because of the shortness of the victim’s fingernails in this case, I was not able to obtain any such scrapings.’
‘What, if anything, do you typically find on the hands of the perpetrator in a strangling case?’
‘Typically, I would expect to find fingernail marks from the victim on the perpetrator’s hands, unless the perpetrator was wearing gloves.’
‘Do you know if any such fingernail marks were found on the defendant?’
Thomas half-rose. ‘Objection, Your Honor. This witness did not examine Dr Alderman.’
Linda frowned. ‘Your Honor, I said, “if she knows.” ’
Judge Gardner nodded. ‘Overruled.’ He turned to Dr Kapoor. ‘You may answer, if you know.’
‘I do not believe fingernail marks were found on the defendant.’
‘Dr Kapoor, did you draw any conclusions from that fact?’
‘I concluded that either the victim’s fingernails were too short to scrape him or he was wearing gloves.’
Thomas jumped up. ‘Your Honor. Objection, speculation.’
Linda scoffed. ‘That’s within her expertise, Your Honor.’
Judge Gardner shook his head. ‘Overruled.’
Thomas sat down with a heavy sigh, and Noah kept his game face on.
Linda returned her attention to the witness. ‘Dr Kapoor, based on your autopsy, did you reach an expert medical opinion with respect to how Anna was strangled?’
‘Yes. My opinion is that she was strangled by another person, most likely an adult male.’
‘What is the basis for your expert medical opinion?’
‘My examination and expertise tells me that the pressure applied to the throat sufficient to cause death would have been in the range of strength possessed by most adult men.’
‘Would you place the defendant in that range?’
‘Yes.’
‘What, if anything, could you determine about the perpetrator’s hands from the bruising on Anna’s neck?’
‘I was able to rule out people with larger or smaller hands. The size of the hand that caused the bruising was average, and there were no distinctive fingermarks that would identify it, so the majority of the adult male population would match it.’
‘Again, would you consider the defendant’s hands to be within the average range?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank you, I have no further questions.’ Linda faced Judge Gardner, who turned to Thomas.
‘Cross-examination, Mr Owusu?’
‘Yes, thank you, Your Honor.’ Thomas rose and strode toward the witness stand. ‘Ms Swain-Pettit, I won’t be needing the autopsy photo.’