The Raping of Ava DeSantis Read online

  “Trains sound good.”

  “That’s what I thought. Trains it is then.” Miriam transitioned from defense lawyer back into mother mode. “Okay, I know you’re busy at work, sugar, so I’ll let you go. Have a good day.”

  “You too, bye.” Wesley hung up the phone and rolled his eyes at Lilly.

  “Grandzilla?”

  “What do you think?”

  Lilly smirked. “You lead a charmed life, my dear.”

  “And you will too if you find a way to reanimate this corpse so we can get back to the office.”

  “I’ll do my best, captain.” Lilly quickly walked back over to the set and pulled the old robot lawyer aside.

  Wesley ran his hand through his hair. Please God, let this day get better…’cause I’m ready to blow my fucking stack if it doesn’t.

  CHAPTER 12

  Too Close To Home

  Wednesday, October 4, 2006

  12:11 p.m.

  The shiny steel elevator doors flashed open. Wesley and Lilly, alone in the elevator, exited right in front of a steel and glass receptionist desk that sat below a sign that read: SCARCOM—Scarborough Public Relations.

  Everything about this fucking place vomited success. The floor was made of custom black Berber carpet; the large panoramic city view windows were framed by burgundy suede drapes and the entire space was honeycombed with dozens of glass cubicles occupied by worker-bee Ivy League graduates. In fact, there were so many beautiful people in glass cages at ScarCom that it resembled a high-end puppy store showcasing its best of inbred dogs.

  One of those inbred dogs was a beautiful blonde receptionist who quietly moonlighted as a librarian in porn videos. She handed Lilly a stack of messages as they both walked by. “Good afternoon, Mr. Scarborough. Miss Torres.”

  “Good afternoon, Lola.”

  Wesley picked up a large stack of mail from the counter. “Has FedEx delivered yet?”

  The receptionist served her bodacious tits on the steel desk as she spoke: “No, Mr. Scarborough. FedEx usually comes around one o’clock.”

  Wesley was immune to her innuendos at this point. In fact, Wesley was so accustomed to beautiful women trying to get on his second wife waiting list that he didn’t even acknowledge their existence. “Just buzz me when he arrives, Lola. Thanks.”

  ***

  Wesley and Lilly walked diligently towards a huge glass office occupying the entire end of the long hallway. Naturally, as Owner/President/CEO of the company, Wesley had picked the best office for himself.

  “Warner, Davidson, Weinstein, Blah, Blah, Blah, called to see if you’re available Thursday morning for a pitch meeting,” said Lilly in one fast-paced breath as she read the phone messages aloud.

  “Am I available?”

  “No. But I hear they’re shopping for a new PR firm. The Jenkins trial is coming up in December.”

  “The doctor who drowned his wife?”

  “Yes, the doctor who allegedly drowned his wife.”

  “Okay, allegedly set up the meeting then.”

  They finally arrived at his ridiculous office. It had a complete floor-to-ceiling clear-day view of downtown Atlanta, and a fully stocked black-marble wet bar to the right.

  “What else?” Wesley tossed his mail onto the spotless, stainless steel desk.

  “I’m heading out for lunch. Do you want steak or chicken today?”

  “No, nothing for me, thanks.” Wesley sat down in his oversized black leather throne.

  Lilly gave him a suspicious look. “No lunch?”

  “I had a big breakfast.”

  “Suit yourself.” Lilly turned to exit. “You know, starving won’t help you look any better naked.”

  Wesley chuckled. “Watch it, Lilly. People might misconstrue our relationship.”

  “Please. Everyone here knows I like meat on my bones.”

  He smiled. “Just go eat.”

  Lilly giggled as she exited the office. Four seconds later, she returned with her black eyes wide open. “Mr. Holt is here to see you.”

  Wesley quickly stood at attention. “Daniel?”

  Daniel Holt, a six-foot-five, silver-haired Texan wearing a white cowboy hat and a black suit entered the office. He was the sort of double-digit millionaire lawyer that drove a ten-year-old Ford pickup truck and ordered custom Armani suits to match his favorite shotguns.

  “Daniel. What a surprise?”

  Lilly quickly exited the office and closed the door.

  “How are you, Wesley?”

  They shook hands.

  “I’m doing well, thank you. I’m just surprised my receptionist didn’t announce your arrival.”

  “She was busy flirtin’ with the FedEx kid so I walked on by. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not, you can visit anytime. Please. Have a seat.” Wesley flashed his charming smile as Daniel sat down in one of two burgundy client chairs, crossing his long perfectly tailored legs in the process.

  “So how are you feeling these days?” asked Wesley.

  “Fair to middlin’, thank you. The cancer is still in remission, so that’s something to be grateful about.”

  “Yes, sir, very grateful.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Well, it’s always good to see you, Daniel. Unless we screwed something up, of course.” Wesley let out a nervous chuckle. “Can I get you a drink? Whiskey? Or is it bourbon?”

  “No, son, still tryin’ to cut down before five. Got orders from the General.”

  “Understood.”

  Daniel eyeballed a picture of Michelle in her wedding gown on the desk. “Speaking of generals, is your son here yet?”

  “No, only two more weeks. Thank goodness too. Things are crazy at home.”

  Daniel belted out a huge belly laugh. “Son, if you think things are crazy at home now just wait until that baby comes. Trust me. It only goes downhill from here.”

  Wesley dove straight back into business. “You know, Daniel, it’s not your style to just drop in without having your assistant confirm our appointment at least three times. Are you sure everything is all right?”

  Daniel’s face changed. “Well, that I don’t know yet, Wesley…I have a very sensitive situation I need to make you aware of. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Okay. Shoot.”

  Daniel’s loud Texan voice now barely spoke above a whisper. “Do you remember me tellin’ you, around two months ago, about a woman who filed a sexual harassment claim against one of our partners, Jacob Saffroy?”

  “The paralegal, right?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. What you may or may not be aware of is that we found it in our budget to give her a generous bonus to stay with our firm.”

  “Yes, I am aware of it.”

  Daniel leaned in closer and lowered his voice further. “Well, things have gone horribly wrong, Wes. Is it safe to speak in here?”

  Wesley had never seen such concern on Daniel’s face before. He was a world-renowned trial attorney that had struck God’s fear into thousands of jurors over three decades. What could possibly scare him this badly? “Sure, Daniel. Go ahead.”

  “Well, yesterday afternoon, the girl arranged a secret meeting with our HR director. She claimed that Jake forced himself on her while they were working late the night before.”

  “What do you mean by forced himself?” Just as soon as the question left his mouth, Wesley realized he did not want to hear the answer.

  “Wesley, the girl claims that Jake raped her…in the supply room.”

  Rape? Wesley tried to mask his reaction. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Daniel. It’s just her word against his. I mean, how do you know she’s not trying to get more money out of you?”

  Daniel pulled a small black thumb drive out of his interior breast pocket and placed it on the steel desk. Fear quickly filled his eyes. “I installed a hidden video camera in the supply room last month to catch folks stealin’ office supplies.”

  Wesley’s stomach filled with dr
ead.

  “I saw it, Wes. I saw the whole thing with my own eyes.”

  Wesley was quietly horrified. In his thirteen years as a public relations specialist, he had never encountered a case of rape before. Obviously, the situation hit way too close to home.

  “How clear is the tape?”

  “Crystal clear. And it’s terrible. Just terrible.”

  “Is there any possibility that this was consensual?”

  “None whatsoever. She cried out for help the entire time. Especially at the beginning while he was beating her.”

  Wesley’s stomach dropped another foot with that comment. “Has anyone else seen this?”

  “No. Just me. I came right over just as soon as I reviewed the footage in my office.”

  Wesley drew a long, deep breath, knowing he was taking a risk by making the following suggestion: “Daniel, you have to go to the police with this.”

  “Police? You must be crazy, son!” Wesley prepared for the worst. “This security tape will destroy our entire firm! It will destroy my reputation once and for all!”

  “I understand, Daniel, but this is serious. I’m just your spokesperson. I’m not a lawyer.”

  Daniel ground his lips together. “I have enough goddamn lawyers as it is, Wes. I need your help. I need you to protect me if this gets out.”

  Wesley struggled to find the right words. “I don’t know if I’m the right person for this situation.”

  “That’s nonsense. No one in this town can handle a crisis better than you, Wes. You were the only person willing to even try to save my career after that third DUI. And you pulled it off. I’ll always be indebted to you for that.”

  “Thank you, Daniel, but this one…this case is a little different.”

  “Bullshit.” Daniel sharpened his steel gray eyes. “No one is better than you. And you know it.”

  Wesley always knew that his stellar record of defending the city’s most prominent attorneys in the court of public opinion would one day turn on him. He didn’t know how. He didn’t know when. He just knew that one day he would be asked to perform a miracle impossible to accomplish, and then burn at the stake for failing to deliver. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do about it.”

  “Now, what do you need from me?”

  Wesley was flustered, even resentful. “Email me her full name, HR records, work history, resume—”

  The intercom BUZZED loudly. Wesley pressed the speaker button on the phone.

  “I’m in a very important meeting, Lola. I’ll be out in twenty minutes.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Scarborough, but Sebastian’s mother-in-law is on line three.”

  Wesley was perplexed. “Dorothy?”

  “Yes. She said it was an emergency.”

  The baby? “Please excuse me, Daniel.”

  “No, of course.”

  Wesley picked up the handset. “Hello, Dorothy? What’s going on?”

  Dorothy spoke on the other line for a long minute as Wesley’s golden face turned expressionless.

  “But I just talked to him last night…”

  Daniel gathered himself. “I’ll let you go, Wes. Sounds important.”

  Wesley spoke like a zombie into the handset. “Okay, I’ll be right over.” He hung up the phone, speechless.

  Daniel stood up, ready to leave. “You’re pale as a ghost, son. I’m afraid to ask.”

  “They found my best friend this morning in the basement of a sex club. He’s dead.”

  “Christ, Wesley. I’m very sorry to hear that. This can definitely wait.”

  “Do you mind, Daniel? I really need to see his wife.”

  “Don’t even think about it. Please. Go.”

  Wesley stood up and moved towards the door. Daniel picked up the flash drive from the steel desk. “What should I do with this?”

  “Destroy it. It’s too risky.”

  Daniel moved closer to Wesley at the door, “But it’s the only guarantee we have that Jake won’t turn against us if the shit hits the fan.”

  Wesley nodded as if he had a point.

  “Never trust a cornered rat.”

  “You’re right. It will be safer with me.” Wesley grabbed the flash drive from Daniel’s hand, walked back over to his desk, placed it in the top drawer and locked it with a small key. “We’ll figure out what to do with it tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Wes. Let me walk you to the elevator. I’m heading out that way anyway.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Uglier Homes And Gardens

  Wednesday, October 4, 2006

  1:43 P.M.

  Wesley stood on the doorstep of an ugly, no truly hideous, six thousand-square-foot brick home in Druid Hills. Ironically, the gargantuan thick-trunked trees that flooded the property were the prettiest in the neighborhood, carefully discarding leaves of red, orange and yellow like an old vaudeville stripper teasing an audience waiting for the big reveal.

  Dorothy Windham, a sixty-five-year-old Tennessee blue-hair, came to the repulsive burnt orange front door to greet Wesley.

  “Hey, Dorothy. I am so sorry.”

  “Please come in. Susie is waiting for you.”

  Wesley entered the home. As he walked through the mismatched yellow and mauve foyer, he saw random somber people scattered around the living room. These must be the neighbors, he thought to himself. He then spotted Sebastian’s two youngest asshole children—fat and red-haired like their father—playing with toys gleefully on the floor.

  “Where’s Susie?”

  Dorothy pursed her lips. “She’s in her bedroom crying. I told her not to speak to anyone until she talks to you first.”

  Dorothy led Wesley down a hallway of black and white family photos, towards a set of hunter green double doors. Dorothy knocked on the door harshly. “Wesley’s here, Susie. Open up.”

  Sebastian’s distraught wife, thirty-five-year-old Susie O’Connor, opened the door. She was a woman so plain, so verbally abused and so invisible, she doesn’t even deserve a character description.

  As the door opened, Susie grabbed Wesley and hugged him for dear life. “Wesley!” she cried aloud.

  He hugged her back with all of his might. “We’ll figure this out, Susie.” His bright blue eyes welled with tears. “I’ll help you and the kids out of this. I promise.”

  ***

  In the bedroom, Wesley rubbed Susie’s back as they sat together on the patchwork quilt bedspread. Dorothy leaned against the dresser with her arms crossed, not sheading a single tear.

  “But why would he choke himself in the first place?” asked Wesley.

  Dorothy cleared her tar-lined throat. “The police said he was performing something called,” she pulled a piece of white paper from the top of the dresser, “auto-erotic asphyxiation, whatever the hell that is.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Apparently, it’s common for men at this place to sneak downstairs and do this to themselves. And if a person goes too far, they can die from it.”

  Susie cried aloud.

  Dorothy hacked phlegm for a few moments, then continued. “Wesley, the kids can’t find out their daddy died this way. We need a story.”

  Wesley immediately snapped into spin cycle. “Just tell everyone Sebastian went there to entertain a wealthy client from out of town…and while Sebastian was at the club, he suddenly felt very ill, quietly slipped into the bathroom and collapsed. He died of a heart attack on the spot.”

  “And how do we explain why he was entertaining clients at a sex club?” snarled Dorothy. “This shit story ain’t gonna fly too well with my church family.”

  “Well, you can explain to everyone at church that it was his client who insisted they go there. He was from…Japan. You know how kinky Japanese men can be.”

  “No, I don’t. But as much as Sebastian hated foreigners, that would be exactly the sort of thing he would say.”

  “Exactly.”

  Susie shot a look at her mother, then started crying again.


  “All right, that’s the story.”

  “Good. I’ll make sure my team cleans up the police blotters and then we’ll write a glowing obituary. I’ll get it in tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Wesley. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate this.”

  “It’s the least I can do, Dorothy.”

  “But we have an even bigger problem with the insurance company.” Dorothy struggled to catch a full breath. “We’re gonna need your help to find a good lawyer.”

  Insurance company? Sebastian hadn’t even been dead twenty-four hours and his mother-in-law already had an answer from his life insurance company. Talk about quick service.

  “So are they refusing to pay because it was self-inflicted?”

  “Oh, no, they’ll pay out the money…to the beneficiary listed on the policy.”

  Susie howled with pain.

  “What? Susie is not on the policy?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Apparently, Sebastian mailed in a change of beneficiary form last month. They said the signature matches and it was notarized so there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “Why would he do that? He loved Susie and the kids.”

  Susie howled again.

  “Who the hell knows? Why would he stick a dog collar around his neck and jerk himself off to death?”

  Susie cried aloud, “Momma!”

  “How can you cry for that man after what he did to you?”

  Susie cried louder.

  “Dorothy, who’s the new beneficiary?”

  “He left you and the kids with nothing!”

  “Dorothy—”

  “I’ll never forgive his fat ass!”

  “Dorothy! Who gets the money?” commanded Wesley.

  The room was silent.

  “The National Democratic Party.”

  Wesley was paralyzed with shock. “What?”

  Susie began screaming violently: “That fucking bastard left them five million dollars!!!” She continued to howl, crying hysterically.

  “That’s impossible.” Wesley’s voice was almost imperceptible.

  “That’s what I thought too. But it’s true.” Dorothy’s yellowing eyes finally revealed how sad she was for her family.