Truth or Lies? by A. Gomez (books to get back into reading TXT) 📕

guilty. Just a little. I got a few paper towels from the ladies’ room and sat next to him to help. I reached over to wipe his chin before the blood could fall on his shirt or jacket. He pulled away slightly when he saw me reach over, almost throwing his hands up in the air defensively.

“The blood,” I whispered, “it’s going to stain your suit.”

He stayed perfectly still and let me wipe his chin while gazing into my eyes.

I felt awkward and stupid. I must have been blushing because I could feel my face getting hot. Why did this guy make me feel so nervous? He was just another pretty face and two hundred pounds of solid muscle. Guys like him were a dime a dozen around here. What was so special about him?

My cell phone rang, startling me—it was Jill. She must be wondering what’s keeping me.

“I have to run,” I whispered, somewhat agitated. I placed the paper towels in his hand as I stood up, pausing for a moment. Should I apologize? He did provoke me earlier. This wouldn’t have happened if he had just let me go. Yes, I told myself, it’s the right thing to do. I turned to look at him, “I want to say how sorry I am for assaulting you the way I did,” I said, trying to sound apologetic. “No matter what the situation or circumstance, I should’ve never behaved that way with you. I was very rude and you don’t deserve that.” I paused, “and thank you as well for not saying anything to Jill or Agent Stevens.” I sounded circumvented. I was going for sincere but this was good. “I don’t know how I would’ve handled all of her questions had she known.”

He stood up; his eyes were wide, and of course, gazing into mine. I felt a little uncomfortable when he gently placed his hands on my shoulders, his face impassive, “Oh, they will never hear what really happened from me.”

Huh. His tone was colored with embarrassment? Sarcasm? I eyed him, frowning, not sure what to think.

2

I walked into the witness room, rolling up my sleeves since I hadn’t cleaned Agent Rockwall’s blood from my right sleeve. Jill was already talking with the victim’s mother; she was a witness in her daughter’s case. My thirteen-year-old victim saw me and ran to give me a hug. She was tall for thirteen. Looking at her, she could pass for sixteen or seventeen, and if one were to put a little makeup on her she would look older still. I worked with a lot of abuse cases and the ones that had to go through the judicial system, I called my victims. It just sounded nicer than having to keep saying “the victim.” I didn’t always want to use their names for fear someone would hear me discussing a case with Jill or the police. I wanted to make sure the kids were always protected.

I had brought her some candy today, knowing she was going to be uneasy since we were starting the trial. She was the key witness for the prosecution side and just the thought of that would make anyone edgy. Not to mention that she, at some point today, would have to walk inside a courtroom, face the perpetrator and recount everything he did to her in front of a jury, without me at her side. I wouldn’t be allowed in while she testified since the prosecution had subpoenaed me as well. Ugh! All that work we’d been doing to get her in a better place mentally and emotionally and having to battle with her mother to bring her to therapy. And now…after today… she might regress when she sees him. I hated the judicial system! And I hated how they re-victimize these poor kids!

We talked about what to expect once she was in the courtroom. I reminded her I couldn’t be inside with her because I’d been subpoenaed too, but I expressed emphatically how I knew she was ready for today. I brought to mind how brave and strong she had been throughout the entire process and how especially courageous she was when she decided to tell me what had happened to her. She was eating her candy, nodding at everything I was saying, looking unruffled. I felt somewhat relieved. Her mother, on the other hand, could be a problem. She had been a problem from the moment this case landed in my lap. She and my victim had disappeared once, claiming she just wanted to put all the ugliness behind them and just help her daughter heal. It sounded reasonable enough until Jill’s private investigator discovered where they were living and who was supporting their lifestyle. Apparently, when the perp posted bond, he decided to go to the mother to talk her into getting my victim to recant her story. He convinced her that these were the most outlandish lies ever fabricated about him and it was only because his enemies were out to ruin him. And because he was so wealthy, he was able to provide her and her daughter with a very comfortable lifestyle and a nice bank account—all the while running a sex operation with young girls and her daughter in the middle of it. The mother wanted to keep the lifestyle she was accustomed to so she looked the other way.

She lost custody for a hot minute; however, because she followed all the instructions the court ordered of her, she was able to regain custody.

Jill walked over to us so she could have one last chat with my victim. “Okay, so, don’t forget what we talked about,” she began. “Only answer the questions the other lawyer asks you. For instance, if it’s a yes or no question just answer yes or no and don’t follow it up with a, yes, but. I’ll make sure you get your but