She keyed in the commissioner’s number, which she now knew by heart. He didn’t answer, so she left him another message: “Lara Evans again. I’ve been charged with murder and booked into the D.C. Corrections Department. I have an arraignment this afternoon. Please bail me out if you can. I need to stay in the competition.”
After three hours of intermittent sitting and pacing, while the two young women kept up their nonstop conversation, the deputy came back, handcuffed Lara, and walked her upstairs to a lobby outside a courtroom. Her legs felt like lead and she was hungrier than she’d ever been. The double doors were open, and pretrial hearings were in session in front of a packed courtroom. A middle-aged woman in a rumpled pantsuit sat on a bench waiting for them.
“This is Mildred Arbuckle,” the deputy said. “She’s your public defender. You have ten minutes before the judge calls your name.” The deputy took a seat on the bench. Lara and her lawyer moved as far away as they could.
“A murder charge is very serious.” Mildred’s bushy eyebrows arched over her glasses. “Tell me what happened.”
“I’m a contestant in the Gauntlet, and I-”
“I know. I love the program. I asked to take this case.” Mildred smiled and some of the age disappeared from her face.
“I was Kirsten’s roommate, and I won our round of the Challenge. I got back to the room first, and she came in a couple hours later. She’d been drinking and picked a fight by grabbing my hair. I knocked her down to put a stop to it. Then I went out for a run. When I came back, she was dead.”
“Why did they charge you?”
“Because Kirsten had stun gun marks on her chest, and I had a Taser in my luggage.”
“That’s all they have?”
“They have a video of our fight. Kirsten is alive and well until the camera shuts off at eight.”
“We have to get you out on bail so you can get back to the competition. Will the Gauntlet organizers post a bond?”
“If they think it’s good for ratings. But will the judge grant it?”
“We’ll push for it.” Mildred patted her leg and Lara tried not to flinch. She hated when strangers touched her. Mildred looked at her over her glasses. “Anything else I should know?”
“I was a cop for sixteen years, most of it as a homicide detective. I’m one of the good guys.”
“Excellent. Let’s go.”
They waited for a pause in the activity, then strode up to the front bench and took a seat. The judge was female, African-American, and fifty-something. Lara hoped it would work in her favor, but she knew better than to assume.
After a minute, the court clerk called her name and read the charges: aggravated assault and first-degree homicide. The judge asked Lara to stand. “How do you plead?”
“Not guilty.” Lara had never imagined herself in this position.
“Anything else before we set a pretrial hearing?” The judge glanced at her lawyer.
Mildred hustled forward to stand next to Lara. “My client was a law enforcement officer for sixteen years and has no criminal record. She’s currently a contestant in the Gauntlet, representing the state of Oregon, and she intends to finish the contest in plain view of millions. She is not a flight risk.” Mildred shook her head and raised her voice. “My client is also completely innocent of these trumped-up charges, which I expect to have dropped before the day is over. I recommend that bail be set low and granted.”
The judge stared at Mildred. “Why would a murder charge be dropped?”
“The victim was hit with a stun gun, which typically doesn’t result in death. Whoever assaulted the victim probably didn’t intend to kill her. Furthermore, my client was not present at the time.”
“Bail is set at a hundred thousand dollars with the stipulation that the defendant be monitored electronically. The date of your pretrial hearing is set for June 12th at 9:00 a.m.” The judge stood and looked at the next defendant. “I’ll be back after a quick break.”
Lara turned to her lawyer. “Thank you. That came out better than I expected.”
“You’re welcome. Now go kick some ass in that contest. All women of a certain age are counting on you.”
The deputy escorted Lara back to the holding area and said she’d be moved into a cell as soon as one opened up. As much as Lara wanted to get away from the chatter in the pen, she dreaded walking into a cell and hearing the door close behind her.
An hour later, the deputy returned. “Someone posted bail for you. Let’s go get your possessions.”
Chapter 16
Five months earlier: Tues., Jan. 10
Paul stood in front of the bathroom mirror and peeled the wide white bandage off his nose. He turned his head from side to side, trying to visualize how he would look when all the swelling went down. His long-hated bump was gone and the entire ridge was narrower. The tip of his nose had been reduced too, so now it didn’t hang over his upper lip. The surgeon had taken the stents out earlier that day, the worst pain of the whole experience. Paul had given in and taken a pain pill and now he felt a little queasy.
He leaned in closer to the mirror. He still had faint bruising under his eyes, but otherwise the only evidence of his surgery was a tiny incision in the cartilage between his nostrils. Paul was disappointed that it would take a few weeks for the final result to emerge from the swelling, but it was worth the wait. Tomorrow he would go back to work and Camille would get her first glimpse of the new Paul. Well, her second glimpse. He’d already lost fifteen pounds.
The next morning after he passed through the metal detectors, the security guard gave him a second look, suppressed a smile, and motioned him on. Why was she smiling? Paul cringed in shame. Would everyone be amused by his cosmetic changes? No one made fun of women for getting work done. Paul stepped on the elevator and willed himself to relax. In another few months, the guard would be looking him over with lust as he came through. The thought made him smile.
Five minutes after he settled into work, Camille rushed into his office. “I want to see how you look.” He’d told her about the procedure when he’d explained why he was taking a week off. She pulled up a chair near him. Heat rushed through his body when her knee bumped his. She’d never sat this close before.
“It’s still swollen, isn’t it?”
“Yes. We won’t see the final results for another few weeks. But it’s already better.”
“Turn your head a little.”
Paul pivoted, proud of his profile for the first time.
“Oh yes. The bump is gone.” Camille studied him the same way the doctor had. “It looks good. What did it cost you? If you don’t mind my asking.”
Paul did mind. “I’d rather not say. I’ve been saving for it for a long time.”
“That’s okay.” She laughed softly. “I can get an approximation in thirty seconds on the net.”
Paul smiled. “It was worth it. I’ve hated my nose for as long as I can remember.”
“It’s going to be cute.” She leaned in. “Can I tell you a secret?”
Little fireworks went off in Paul’s chest. “Of course.”
“I had my eyebrows done three years ago.”
“What do you mean? Your face is perfect.” He realized he’d only been working with Camille for a year and a half.
“My eyebrows were droopy, so I had an arch put in.”
Paul knew she was only thirty-three so all he said was, “You look fantastic.”
“Thanks. My mother gave me a lot of grief about it. She thinks I’m vain.”
“Nonsense. You just want to look your best, so it’s money well spent.” Paul experienced a rush of camaraderie, something he hadn’t had since college. “My foster mother just wants me to be happy. She was very supportive about my surgery.”