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“Hi, Chelsea. How are you doing today?”
She chews on her bottom lip, fidgeting with the cuffs of her baggy sweatshirt as I walk over and take a seat on the sofa next to her. I place the files I’m carrying onto the low table next to a mug of fresh tea that I make sure we have waiting for her when she comes in. We don’t meet in my office. We use one of the comfort rooms instead. The fear in her eyes lessens a trace amount in a less formal environment.
But merely a trace.
“Did you practice some of those breathing exercises we spoke about?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes dart to mine and then away again as she nods.
She’s young. Barely eighteen. And has seen far more of the ugly dark side of the human race than anyone ever should. But feeling sorry for her isn’t going to help her in court. I need to prepare her for what’s coming. Make her walk out of theother side with the power to live her life the way she should be doing.
“Good. Keep doing them. They’re a useful tool to have in your back pocket. One that’s yours and yours alone, okay?”
She nods again, her eyes sliding to the top folder on the table. “Are those…?”
I smile gently. “We can take as much time as you need. But I need you to look and tell me if you recognize anything, okay?”
She pulls her sleeves down over her hands and wraps her arms around her middle.
I open the folder and take out the first photograph. It’s of a long, dirty hallway, dimly lit by a single yellow bulb in the ceiling. Apartment doors line both walls.
Chelsea sucks in a breath, and I slide out the next photo. It’s inside one of the apartments. The room is bare of furniture except a double bed without sheets in the center. The mattress is stained and dirty, and there are restraints hanging from the metal headboard.
She swallows thickly, her bottom lip trembling.
“I need you to say it out loud,” I encourage in a soft voice.
“Y-yes.” She sniffs, blinking rapidly. “That’s where… that’s where it happened.”
“This is where you were kept?”
“Yes. It’s where…” She drops her eyes to the floor, her throat bobbing. “It’s where he took me after we met. And…”
I wait patiently for her to continue. She’s told me this before. But she’s going to have to tell it again in court. And this practice is going to help her. We’ve spoken about it, and she wants to do this.
“… and it’s where...” She swallows again. “Where he and his friend took turns to have sex with me.”
“Okay. You’re doing great, Chelsea. Do you want to take a break?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I want to do this. Keep going.”
I press the button on my key chain and the lights on my BMW flash in the dark staff parking lot.
“Soph? You haven’t returned any of my calls.”
I spin, my heartrate spiking in my chest.
“Henry? What the hell?” I look around the supposedly secure car park for any of my colleagues who might also be heading home, but it’s empty. “How did you get in here?”
“You look good.” His eyes sweep over my cream silk blouse and fitted skirt suit. Once, the attention from him felt good. Now it feels cheap and nasty.
“Why are you here? I thought I made myself clear.” I click over the concrete in my heels, opening up the trunk of my car to place some case files in.
“It’s over with my wife. I love you.”
I pause, looking sideways at him. His hopeful, deceitful eyes shine in the low evening light, and I sigh as I turn away. I can’t tell if he’s telling the truth. I don’t care what the truth is. But I care that I can’t tell. He shook the core of my self-belief when he fooled me. I can’t allow him back into my life to shake it again. My clients need me on top form. Not doubting myself.
I slam the trunk shut and spin to glare at him.
