Finlay Donovan Jumps the Gun (Finlay Donovan, #3)(71)

Parker turned to the dais. “I’m only trying to rule out any conflict of interest, Your Honor. There are ethical considerations if the prosecution’s attorney has a personal relationship with a witness that might negatively affect my client.” She turned back to me. “You’re under oath, Officer Donovan. Is this or is this not the first time you’ve met Mr. Baker?”

“No,” I said through my teeth, “this is not the first time I’ve met him.”

Riley raised his hand. “I don’t think this is how a cross-examination is supposed to work.” Max slapped a hand over his mouth, sitting forward in her seat.

“I’ve definitely never seen this on Law and Order,” Vero muttered.

Parker raised her voice over the murmurs of the class. “Officer Donovan, please tell the court when you first met Mr. Baker.”

Julian shot to his feet. “Objection, your Honor!”

“Overruled.” Nick’s knuckles tightened around his gavel as his eyes bored into me. “The witness will answer the question.”

“Oh, shit,” Vero sang under her breath.

I slapped down my script. “You really want to know? I’ve known Mr. Baker since October of last year.”

Vero stood up. “Can I declare a mistrial?”

“I’m lost,” Mrs. Haggerty called out. “What the heck is happening?” The class erupted in confused chatter.

Nick stood and banged the gavel. “Our volunteers will take questions from the class while the court takes a recess! Bailiff, you’re in charge.” Nick dropped the gavel on the desk, abandoning his cane as he climbed down from the dais. He shouldered his way past Parker and Julian, taking my hand as he limped past the witness stand and towed me from the room.

He pulled me behind him down the hall, checking the locks on every door we passed until one finally flew open. He dragged me inside the maintenance closet, closing us inside and flipping on the light, his dark eyes furious. I backed into a set of metal shelves, knocking over a broom. Bound stacks of paper towels spilled to the floor around me.

“Julian Baker? He’s the attorney you were involved with? For how long?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“I’m not talking about your love life, Finn! I’m talking about the Mickler case! You knew I was investigating Harris Mickler’s disappearance! You knew I was talking to the bartenders at The Lush, and you never said a word! Were you seeing him then, too?”

“No!” I crossed my arms. “Seeing him isn’t exactly the right word.”

Nick laughed darkly as he rocked back on his heels. “Right. I forgot. The lawyer from your book. Is this the part where you tell me it was all just research for a novel?”

“Is that a rhetorical question, or do you really want me to answer that?”

The heat kicked on, warm air whistling through the vent in the ceiling. He shoved a finger over the knot in his tie and wrestled open the top button of his dress shirt. Bracing a hand on the shelf behind my head, he leaned over me and pierced me with a stare. “Do you swear to tell me the truth, and nothing but the truth, right here, right now?”

I nodded, thrown off-balance by his nearness.

“Were you at The Lush the night Mickler disappeared?”

“Yes.”

“Wearing that wig I found at Ramón’s garage?”

“Yes.”

A muscle tensed in his jaw, his voice low and tenuous when he finally spoke. “When I asked Julian if he remembered a blond woman in the bar that night, he said only one stood out to him and she left the bar alone. He said he talked with her outside before she left. A busboy and a patron said they remembered seeing them together in the parking lot. Was it you?”

My throat thickened. “Yes.”

“Why did you tell him your name was Theresa?”

My eyes burned with tears but I refused to blink as I raised my voice. “Because he was gorgeous and charming and interested in me, and I didn’t want to tell him that I was a broke, single mother whose husband had abandoned her for someone else! For one night, I wanted to know what it felt like to be Theresa!”

Nick took a step back. He rubbed a hand down his face. “Did you meet up with him that night?”

I shook my head. “He followed me out to my van to make sure I was sober enough to drive home. He asked me if I wanted to stay until the end of his shift, but I was late to pick up the kids at my sister’s. He gave me his number and told me to call him sometime. Things just sort of happened from there.” I hadn’t had to think about my answer. Every word I’d spoken was the truth.

Nick nodded, his relief palpable, making me realize where his line of questions had been leading from the beginning. None of this was about my fling with Julian. Nick was establishing my alibi, confirming Julian’s story that I had nothing to do with Harris Mickler’s disappearance. That I couldn’t have been the same blond woman Harris left the bar with. Because if I was, it would change everything.

Nick’s voice was gravelly when he asked, “Do you still have feelings for him?”

“Maybe. Sometimes. I don’t know,” I said through a frustrated sigh. “Julian made me feel desirable and sexy and smart. Like all he saw was me. None of the rest of it mattered to him—the kids, the divorce, my failing career. None of it…” I frowned at the floor as those words sank in. As I finally answered the question that had been gnawing at me for weeks. “None of it was important to him,” I finished under my breath.