Page 23 of Unburdening His Heart

When I finish with my shower, I get dressed for work. I pick a crisp white dress shirt, a tailor fit navy suit, and matte black, square-toed shoes. After putting on my gunmetal cufflinks, I tie my striped silk tie and straighten my collar before giving myself a once over and heading out the door.

I guess I’ll go out to have coffee today since I’m so early.

I shove the rest of the sandwich in my mouth as I take the courthouse steps two at a time. Before entering, I wipe away the crumbs on my shirt and straighten my tie. It’s been a long-ass morning. However, because I went in early, I was able to wrap up my day before my normal quitting time and make it in time for the afternoon testimonies for Christopher’s trial.

I hurry down the long, sterile hallway to the courtroom doors, squeezing in just as the bailiff shuts it for the start of the afternoon session. I take a seat in the back, one of the few still available.

I was only able to make it here for one other half day earlier this week. We’re finally getting to the defense. Rumor has it that Christopher is lobbying to take the stand. But if his lawyer is worth the obscene amount of money dear ol’ dad is paying him, he’ll talk Christopher out of it.

It’s never recommended to let a defendant with as many charges as Christopher take the stand. It’s too big of a risk. Though it’s also one that Christopher is arrogant enough to take. I pray he does and that he hangs himself when he does it.

“The defense calls Anthony Morales to the stand.”

I shift in my seat. I was able to get a copy of the defense’s witness sheet, but this guy wasn’t on it. I’ve never heard of the man, either.

The courtroom doors open, and a tall, lanky man walks in. He’s wearing a rather expensive suit, but it doesn’t look right on him. Like he doesn’t know how to wear it. The gaudy gold watch on his wrist is a little too big, too. His steps are stiff, and his back a little too straight.

My skin crawls as a foreboding feeling churns in my gut. I shift to my left, trying to get a better view of him, but it’s blocked by the bailiff going through the oath. The man swears to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, then takes the seat next to the judge.

He tries to act casual, but after years in the courtroom, I can tell when someone is starting to sweat from nerves. Whatever the hell this man is about to say, I have a feeling I’m not going to like it.

“Mr. Morales, how do you know the defendant, Christopher Gates?” the attorney asks.

“Christopher and I practically grew up together, but we hadn’t seen each other until a few years ago when we reconnected.” The man swallows and shifts slightly in his seat.

This lying motherfucker.

“And how did you reconnect?”

“Well, I saw him in a coffee shop that was right down the street from his old work. We saw each other, and we started talking regularly again.”

The defense attorney nods. “That’s nice. I’m sure it was a surprise to run into him again.”

“Objection! Relevance,” the prosecutor says. A very good fucking observation.

The defense attorney gives a smile I’m sure got him away with far more than it should. “Your Honor, if you give me a little leeway, I’ll establish the relevance very soon here.”

The judge eyes him for a beat. “You have less than two minutes to make the connection, or we move on. Objection denied.”

I hold my breath, waiting to see where this slimy fucker tries to go with this. That bad feeling in my gut is so strong I might puke.

“Mr. Morales, when you and Christopher reconnected, did he talk to you about his personal life?”

The man on the stand smiles and nods, though I can see the smile is forced. He’s nervous. “Of course. We meet up at least once a week. Usually at a bar because he didn’t want to go home.”

“And do you know why he didn’t want to go home?”

“Yes, he told me some stories about his fiancé, Andrea Shaw. Stories that were… How should I put this? Unfavorable to her character.”

My blood boils in my veins, and I’m barely able to keep my ass seated. I grind my teeth together, preparing for whatever bullshit is about to come out of this man’s mouth next.

The slimy lawyer makes a hmm of interest before asking his next question. “And by ‘unfavorable,’ what do you mean exactly?”

“Well, please forgive my language, but Christopher described her as a controlling, manipulative bitch. Verbatim.” The man looks over at the jury, then quickly back to the attorney.

Whispers spread throughout the courtroom. My pulse rages behind my throat. Right now, there is nothing I want more than to walk right up to him and choke the life out of him. After Christopher, of course.

“Do you know in what ways he was referring?”

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