Appealed (The Legal Briefs, #3)(51)

“Yeah, thanks—I get the picture.”

Her eyes tighten. “I think . . . I like it buried, Brent. It makes everything easier. My relationship with David and the relationships I had before were easy. I could enjoy them and then move on when they were over, because they didn’t affect me. They didn’t alter my life or who I am.”

I think about Waldo and frozen ponds.

“You like skating the surface.”

Her forehead wrinkles, not understanding. So I clarify.

“If you never dive in the deep end, you never have to worry about drowning.”

She nods slowly. “Yeah. It’s like that.”

Kennedy withdraws her hand and stands up. She rubs her eyes and sighs. “I’m going to go home and think, okay?”

Am I disappointed? As f*ck.

Beaten? Not a chance in hell.

I know where she’s coming from—more than she’ll probably ever understand. And like I said before, I’m patient. I’m relentless.

I don’t believe for a second that she’s incapable of loving me. There’s too much passion between us—so much feeling. I think she might even love me already.

I just have to help her see it.

Kennedy faces me, her posture taking on a more professional air—even though she’s still gorgeously bare.

“And there’s not going to be a plea deal. I’m sticking to the plan I have. If I change that now, I’ll always wonder if it was because it was the best choice for the case, or because I let my feelings for you sway me.”

I nod, resigned but not really surprised.

“Okay.”

She picks up my shirt from the bed, starts to slide her arms in, but I hold up my finger, stopping her. Then I open my bedroom door and there, in a neatly folded pile outside of it, are Kennedy’s clothes. Like I knew they would be.

Kennedy chuckles a little when I pick them up and hand them to her. Then she calls out into the hallway, “Thank you, Harrison.”

I should really pay him more.

We’re both quiet as she gets dressed—minus her bra. Just can’t bring myself to feel bad about that.

Then she approaches me, reaches up on tiptoes, and kisses me softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She will. It’s our final matchup. Our Battle Royale. And when it’s done, only one of us will be left standing.

? ? ?

“I call Justin Longhorn to the stand, Your Honor.”

Justin adjusts his navy tie, smooths his hands nervously down his tan slacks, and takes the stand. After he’s sworn in, he looks at me and I give him an encouraging nod.

“How are you doing, Justin?”

He swallows hard. “Not so good.”

I gesture around the courtroom. “It’s kind of crazy, isn’t it? How quickly the legal system can move . . . swallow you up in its cold, hard machinery?”

Kennedy rises. “Does Mr. Mason have a relevant question for the witness, Your Honor?”

I glance back at her—eyeing her sweet legs beneath her dark blue skirt. “I have several.”

“Let’s get to them, then,” the judge nudges.

“Yes, sir.” I look back to Justin. “How old are you, Justin?”

His voice is small and squeaky with youth. “Seventeen.”

“Do you have any interests? Hobbies?”

“Pretty much just computers.”

I walk him through his childhood. How his interest began with Xbox games and Game Boys, then escalated into online gaming and coding. How he became friends with anonymous posters on message boards, which led him to secret chat rooms where hackers gather. And there he developed his hacking skills. How they would brag about their accomplishments, always trying to impress and outdo each other.

“Tell me about First Security Bank,” I say.

He’s more comfortable now. More animated.

“First Security’s firewall was like legendary. The gold medal. Everyone wanted to crack it, but anyone who tried crashed and burned. Peeps started saying it really was impenetrable.”

“So you gave it a shot? You attempted to hack into their online banking system.”

His eyes jump to the jury, but then he admits, “Well . . . yeah. It was a challenge. Like the final boss level in a game.”

He explains how he went at it for three sleepless days, fueled by Monster drinks and Hostess Twinkies.

“And then?” I ask.

And he can’t keep the smile off his young face. “I was in. I couldn’t believe it at first, but it was right in front of me. The accounts were all there.”

“What did you do then? Hop on the message boards to tell the boys the big news?”

Justin’s brows draw together. “No. I didn’t tell anybody. For a while I just wandered around, checked things out. I kept expecting to get booted out when they realized I was there.” His voice goes soft. Almost sad. “But no one . . . no one saw me.”

“What happened next?”

“I set up my own account. A dummy account.”

I lean back against the defense table. “Why?”

“To see if anyone would notice.”

“And did they, Justin? Did anyone notice you?”

His head shakes infinitesimally. “No.”

Softly, I ask, “What did you do next?”