Page 138 of The Wrong Side of the Law

Chapter Forty-Three

Emily - six months later

Acrackle of electric anticipation charges the air in the courtroom as the members of the jury file back in and take their seats. All eyes in the room are focused on them, trying to get a sense of their decision. All eyes, that is, except for mine and Gabriel’s.

We’re watching the guest of dishonor: John Whitehall.

The former State Attorney for the twenty-first judicial district is dressed as impeccably as ever, but no tailor in the world can cut a pinstripe suit that will hide the fear of a prosecutor facing prison time on corruption charges. AndFederalprison time at that. Gabriel’s old boss has aged ten years in the past six months, but I can’t bring myself to feel any sort of pity for him.

I wish Frank could be here with us today to witness Whitehall’s downfall, but he’s won’t be coming home for a few more days. The Armory allowed him to take a few days of special leave to testify during the trial, but no power in heaven or hell will get my brother out of taking exams.

The judge waits patiently until the jury has taken their seats, and then a moment more before she addresses them.

“Have you reached a verdict?”

The jury foreman stands.

“We have, Your Honor.”

“What say you?”

Gabriel’s arm around me practically vibrates with tension, and I’m squeezing his other hand hard enough almost to break fingers.

“We the jury,” the foreman says, reading self-consciously from a sheet of paper in his hands, “in the matter of The United States versus John Whitehall, find the defendant guilty on all counts.”

Whitehall closes his eyes and bows his head. He doesn’t look shocked by the verdict: he’s an experienced prosecutor, and he could read the writing on the wall long before the jury went off for their deliberations. The defense attorney—certainly a far more expensive one than Mark Anderson—lays a hand on his shoulder, leaning over to whisper in his ear. I can’t hear what was said, but Whitehall nods silently at it.

“Members of the jury: thank you for your service.” The judge nods gravely to the jury, then turns to the attorneys for the prosecution and defense. “Sentence will be conferred on, let’s see”—she flips through a calendar—“Tuesday, January 2. Defendant’s bail will continue until that time. Any objections or conflicts?”

Neither prosecution nor defense object, and the judge bangs her gavel.

“So ordered. This court is adjourned.”

Gabriel and I stand and file out of the courtroom, hand in hand, but just before leaving the building he stops short.

“You ready for this?” Gabriel peers through the tinted glass at the assembled press outside. They’re waiting for Whitehall, obviously, but Gabriel himself was a central figure at this trial as well. “I know you’re not a fan of the cameras.”

“It’s okay. I’m getting used to them.” I smile up at him. “Do I look okay?”

“Prettiest girl I’ve seen today,” he answers, lightly caressing my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Maybe even the prettiest I’ve seen this week.”

“Jerk,” I say affectionately, leaning into his hand. “So, today’s the big day, then? You’re making your announcement?”

“Yeah. I think so.” Gabriel takes a deep breath and blows it out through pursed lips. “Here goes nothing.”

“You’re ready for this.” I squeeze his hand, pushing all my own confidence through to him. “I love you, Gabriel, and I am so very proud of you.”

“Back atcha, babe.” He smiles down at me with the soft eyes that always make my knees feel weak, and for one intimate moment we’re the only two people in the crowded foyer. “Let’s go and get it over with.”

As soon as we walk out the doors, we’re mobbed by cameras and microphones, with reporters shouting questions at Gabriel, who holds up his free hand, asking for quiet.

“Andrea,” he says, looking past the CNN reporter and focusing instead on a local journalist. “I think you had the first question?”

“Thank you, Mister Cooper. There’s a rumor that you’ve been planning to run for the office of State Attorney for a while now. In the wake of John Whitehall’s conviction, do you have any comment on this?”

“Thank you, Andrea.” Gabriel’s face takes on a serious, thoughtful mien that will play very well for the viewers at home. “And yes, I have been considering a run for office for a long time now. You know me, you know my record. The Constitution guarantees us all equal access to justice, and equal protection under the law, and you’ve seen enough of me over the years to know how much that means to me.”

“But are you going to run?” Andrea shoves her microphone in his face again.

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