Page 82 of The Redemption of Remy St. Claire

Pulling herself from her reverie, she smiled and shook Lance’s hand. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Howard.”

“The pleasure is mine, Ms. St. Claire.”

She didn’t bother to correct him. Her marriage had no relevance at this juncture.

Lance turned to Zach. “Nice to see you again, Zach. How’s the hockey team?”

Her boss was an assistant coach of a team of young and talented players up in Merritt. He drove there at least two to three weekends a month during the hockey season. Zach loved the kids as much as he loved the game.

“The team is unbeaten so far. West is trying to not put too much pressure on the boys, but they’re a talented bunch.”

Zach’s best friend, West Harris, was the coach.

“Could we cut the chitchat?” Henrikson spat out the words. “I pay you by the hour—so let’s make this fast.”

Remy was the first to sit, ensuring she sat across from the defendant. Being this close made her nauseous, but she could ignore that. After three years in the prosecutor’s office, she’d also developed a thick skin.

Zach sat next to her and spoke first. “Counselor, we believe we have a strong case against your client. The viciousness of the attack concerns me, though, so I’m offering ten years.”

Henrikson snickered, not even bothering to hide his contempt.

“Well, Zach, I think you can improve on that.” Lance exaggerated the words. “I think you have a weak case with little proof. I think you have a victim who regretted her encounter with my client and decided to cry rape.” He paused for maximum effect. “Her particular proclivities will make her testimony suspect.”

Bristling, Remy tapped her finger on the table. “Her sexual history has no bearing on this case.”

“She likes it rough.” Henrikson leered the assertion. “She asked me to do those things to her.”

“Even if—and I mean if—she asked for any of that, she saidno,and that should’ve ended it.” Remy wanted to smirk but restrained herself.

Henrikson shrugged. “She never saidnoto me.” He smiled. “In fact, she begged me for more.”

He was lying.

She’d suspected it, but now she knew for sure. The tell was so subtle, however, there was a good chance the jury would have difficulty seeing it. Graham Henrikson was good-looking, and in his suit and tie, he almost looked respectable.

Almost.

“Two years.” Lance’s suggestion.

“Less a day.” Henrikson’s helpful contribution. “Gotta give me that day.”

Over my dead body.

“I think ten years is more than fair.” She wouldn’t yield on this one. “You twisted her arm so hard you almost broke it. She had bruises that lasted for weeks.”Hold strong.Two years less a day meant a provincial jail, and that was much cushier than a federal penitentiary.

Lance glanced at his client. “Five years, and you don’t oppose early parole if he’s a model prisoner.”

“No deal.” She met Henrikson’s stare. “He pleads to ten and serves at least seven before he applies for parole.”

Lance looked back and forth between the two prosecutors. “I thought we were here for negotiations.”

“We are.” Zach rushed to assure the two men while giving Remy a side glance. “Can I talk to you?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. He does ten or he goes to trial.” Her voice was steady, but her heart beat like a galloping horse, tearing down the race track.Stay strong. Hold firm.

“Trial it is, then.” Lance stood, buttoning his jacket. “But you’re making a mistake.” He looked directly at her. “Call me when you come to your senses.” He turned to his client. “Let’s go, Graham.”

As Henrikson stood, he looked her right in the eyes.Don’t back down. Don’t let him see you sweat.She wanted to escape his lascivious stare, and there was no question he was aware of her discomfort. Like he could see deep into the darkest parts of her soul. What did he see? What did he think he was looking at?

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