The cop shifted uneasily in his seat. "Just this one."

I heard a murmur in the courtroom. A couple episodes of Law & Order and even I knew that wasn't a smart question to ask.

"And you were put in charge of this case?" Winston asked.

"Yes, sir." Carson straightened.

"Why?"

"Because I'm good at my job," Carson said. "I got a sixth sense, the kind that tells me if someone's lying."

"And did you take the defendant's statement?"

"Once he regained consciousness, I did."

I suppressed a groan. This was not going well.

"And when you spoke with Mr. Radcliff, did you determine whether or not he was telling the truth about the events of that night?"

"I got the impression there were some things Mr. Radcliff wasn't being entirely honest about."

That wasn't a definite yes or no. I resisted the urge to look at Emma. I didn't want her to see that I was concerned.

"In your investigation, have you come across any evidence that would support Mr. Radcliff's version of events?" Winston continued his questioning.

"The window in the bedroom had been removed."

"But that could have been done by anyone at any time, right?"

Had Winston even read any of our statements? Emma reached over and grabbed my hand. I really hoped it was just general nerves and she didn't realize what a bumbling fool Winston was.

"It could've," Carson agreed.

At least he was smart enough not to say that Luke and I had actually taken the window out. Still, the way this was going, it sounded like Brian's version of events was true. I tried to stifle the sinking feeling I was getting in the pit of my stomach.

"Officer Carson," Winston went on. "When you arrived at the scene, did you see the minor in question, Michelle Radcliff?"

"I did."

"And what state would you say she was in?"

I could tell by Carson's face that they were back on track with questions they'd rehearsed.

"She was upset. Crying, hugging on her mom. Her face was white and she was shaking."

"Would you say, Officer Carson, that this was the reaction of a girl who'd wanted to be with her father?"

Carson hesitated. It was just for a split second, but I saw it and I knew I wasn't the only one. He recovered and answered, "No." But the damage was done.

"No further questions," Winston said. He returned to his seat with a smug smile on his face.

"Just a few questions, Officer Carson," Reynolds stood. "You said that the girl was scared and upset, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wouldn't you say that would be an appropriate reaction from a girl who'd been allegedly kidnapped and then saw her father brutally bludgeoned by her mother?"

Carson's face turned red. "She was hugging her mother. Why would she do that if she was scared of her?"

The lawyer looked at the judge. "That wasn't my question."

The judge redirected. "Please restrict your answers to yes or no, Officer Carson." He then instructed the jury. "You're to disregard the previous statement."

By the time Reynolds finished with Carson, everyone in the courtroom knew that the only thing the cop had proven was that the evidence at the scene could've supported either scenario, even the shotgun they'd found under the bed where it had slid after Brian had been knocked out. There was no forensic evidence to prove either side of the dispute and Winston had led the way.

"At this time," the judge said as Officer Carson left the stand, "I'm going to dismiss everyone for the day. We'll resume tomorrow at nine o'clock with the prosecution's next witness."

The butterflies in my stomach exploded into flight. That would be me. Emma was going last and was determined to keep Michelle off the stand. Testifying for kids was a tricky business and that was one thing, at least, everyone seemed to agree on.

Emma and I stood. Her face was pale, but she looked solid enough. That was good, especially since I wasn't walking home with her.

"I'm going to pick up some pizza," Emma said. "I'm too tired to cook."

Well, there was one good thing that had come out of today.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," I promised.

She nodded and left as I followed Winston up to his office. Summerville was a small enough place that the DA's office was housed on the top floor of the courthouse. He didn't say a word until we were in his office and the door was closed behind us.

"So, Miss Carrington, should I call you Daniella or Hanna?" He almost looked amused.

I didn't respond.

"Miss Carrington it is, then." He gestured towards a chair and I sat. "I don't care what your name is and I don't care why you lied about it in the first place. The appropriate notes have been made on the file, and that's all that matters."

"You don't think the defense is going to ask about it?" I was surprised. "I'd thought they'd want to discredit me."

Winston gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "What reason would you have to lie about what happened? You're a stranger in Summerville and Emma Radcliff doesn't have the money or the inclination to pay anyone off for their testimony"

His cavalier attitude was bringing back the anger I'd felt in court. "Well, no, Emma's not like that, but Officer Carson seemed to think there was something romantic between Emma and me."

Winston raised his eyebrows. "Is there?"

"No," I snapped. "But I was and am staying at her Bed and Breakfast. I'm sure the defense will come up with something to discredit my character."

The lawyer shook his head. "Nothing provable. All that matters is that your story and hers match up with each other and with the original statements you gave to the police."

Based on the questions that followed, I could tell the prosecutor had a one-track mind. He didn't ask any questions about why I'd gone with Emma or my previous encounters with Brian which might have given me motive to want revenge. I could think of a hundred questions the defense might use to come after me, but Winston didn't ask a single one. If he hadn't been so smug, I might've suspected he was being paid off, but I didn't read dirty from him, just fucking arrogant.

By the time I left his office, it was nearly six o'clock and all I could think about was getting something to eat and curling up in bed with Luke. I wanted to forget pretty much the entire day and snuggling in his arms would be the best way to do it.

Chapter Nineteen.

Luke Summerville didn't have any appropriate venues for either training or a fight, so I'd sent Coach one town over. I didn't tell him the real reason I was staying at the B&B in Summerville rather than at the same hotel he was in here in Clarkston, only that I'd been to Summerville before and I liked the Bed and Breakfast there. I wasn't sure if he believed me, but he didn't insist I change, so I considered it a win.

The local club we were training at was small and didn't have as much to offer as our place back home, but that wasn't the reason my punches weren't squared up or my balance was off. I couldn't even blame that last one on my knee. My concentration had gone to shit and I knew it.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Joe finally yelled as I landed a particularly sloppy round-house. "It's like all your brain leaked out the moment you got on that plane." His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "That place you're staying, Dani's there, ain't she?"

I glared at him but didn't answer.

"You're not gonna win any fights this way," Coach growled. "I swear, boy. Sometimes I think you have the attention span of a squirrel."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really, Coach?" I went for the bag again. He didn't get it. I didn't care about the fight or getting my license back. Not anymore. Coach was optimistic. He still thought the judge would hold up his end of the bargain, that I would somehow miraculously end up back on top. I didn't. I'd lost hope that things would get better for me professionally. There was only one fight I was focused on now. The fight against Bruno. I was going to get my daughter back and Bruno was going to end up in custody or in the ground. At this point, both results would have the same effect on my career.

"Take a break," Joe barked. He tossed a water bottle at me and I nearly dropped it, earning a scoffing laugh from my coach. "You wanna tell me why the hell I wasted my time coming down here to train you if your head's not in it?"

I hung my head. He was my coach and he needed to know. I blew out a long breath and started to explain. "Look, Coach, before that fight with The Butcher, we thought it'd be the big one, the one to get me back in a real ring. There was so much pressure on me to win I thought my eyeballs would pop out. But it's nothing compared to this." I ran my hand through my hair, flicking sweat everywhere. "I know my career's on the line here, Coach, but I can't think about that. If I don't get Bruno here, I could lose Lacey for good." I quickly told him my plan, then waited to see how he'd respond.

He scratched at the stubble he'd been growing out. "So we need to get you in somewhere big enough that Bruno will think it's a serious match and come out of hiding."

"Right." I nodded. "But not so big he thinks half the police force will be on stand-by."

"Okay." Coach's expression became thoughtful. Most people just thought he was all brawn and no brains, but I knew better. He had the strategic mind of a chess player. "The guy I got for you to fight was short notice, so he doesn't have much experience. Should mean it'll be an easy fight for you."

"I don't care about winning," I said. "Only about getting Bruno there."

I could tell Coach didn't like my answer, but he didn't argue with me.

"I checked out the arena two blocks over," he said. "It's mostly used for the high school basketball team and concerts, that kind of shit, but if we make a hefty donation, we can use it."

"Let's take a look," I said. Coach knew that my money situation was anything but hefty. But I knew Dani wouldn't have a problem using some of her money and I found it ironic; the money that started this whole thing would help to end it.

After changing into street clothes, Coach and I walked the short distance to the arena. The security guard let us inside as soon as he heard we were thinking of renting it. It didn't take long for me to see that it was perfect for what I wanted. Only two exits, both of which would be visible from a raised stage in the center of the floor. I stood in the center of the empty space, getting a bearing on what it would feel like to be in the ring here. Coach took one last tour to make sure everything else would work in our favor.

We walked toward the exit, where the security guard had waited, to discuss the 'rental fee.' The guard gave us the number of the person in charge and said it'd cost fifty thousand dollars. Coach let out a string of choice words that I cut off by telling the guy that it wouldn't be a problem. Coach stared at me, but didn't ask until we were on our way back to the gym.

"Okay, kid, you wanna tell me where in the hell you plan on getting fifty grand when it wasn't too long ago you could barely pay your rent?"

I gave him as much of the truth as I could. "Dani helped."

He shot me a glance. He knew I was holding out on him, and I was glad he didn't press matters. Instead, he turned the conversation back to the more important subject. "You think your head is back in the game?"

"Damn straight. Let's get this done."

Chapter Twenty.

Dani The damn trial wasn't going well. I hated the thought of stepping into that courtroom one more time, but I had to do it for Emma's sake.

My testimony, which Winston had assured me was going to be only a recitation of the facts of what had happened, had been disaster. All of the questions I'd been afraid the defense attorney would ask had been asked. The worst part was it had been blunders on Winston's part that had opened the door for Reynolds ask about my previous relationship with Brian Radcliff, as well as questioning my friendship with Emma. Every time I'd tried to explain my answer, Reynolds had cut me off. Winston just stood there, with no counter, and let it happen. I'd expected him to shout, "I object." But there was nothing but silence. At one point, he'd even started cleaning his nails, as if every point the defense had been making hadn't shed reasonable doubt on the whole case.

Tuesday was Emma's turn on the stand after me. Her testimony hadn't gone much better and by the time the prosecution rested at the end of the day, Reynolds had made both of us look like vindictive bitches. Brian came out smelling like a rose, painted as the real victim in this whole convoluted trial.

Wednesday had been the defense's day to start calling witnesses and Reynolds had started with another of the cops who'd been at the scene. He'd agreed with Carson's assessment of the crime scene, but this cop had given his own version of how things had played out. Winston had only objected once, but that had been in regards to something so trivial that it hadn't really mattered. The next person Reynolds called was the doctor who'd treated Brian in the emergency room. While he didn't seem to have an opinion either way on the circumstances surrounding what had happened, he'd definitely had a lot to say about the nature of Brian's injury. By the time he'd finished, the jury was sympathetic towards Brian. I'd caught more than one juror throwing dirty looks at Emma as they filed past us when they walked out.

Today was Thursday, the morning Brian took the stand. Reynolds had done his best to portray Brian as a compassionate, loving father who'd been wrongly stripped of his rights by a lying, manipulative ex-wife who'd done everything in her power to turn their daughter against him. The final straw was a total piece of fiction. Reynolds said that Michelle had told her mother she wanted to live with her father and Brian had only done what any good father would have done in that situation. He'd taken his daughter away for the weekend so they could talk and discuss how to approach her unstable mother with the news.

My faith in the judicial system was pretty much nonexistent by now. I was shocked Emma had made it through the entire testimony without bursting into tears or trying to kill Brian. Hell, I'd been ready to go after the bastard before the first lie had rolled out of his mouth. Then Winston had started his cross-examination and forced Brian to go back over every word. The prosecutor had paused on occasion to smirk or give the jury a look that was clearly been meant to show how ludicrous these statements were. He didn't' offer one single piece of evidence to suggest that Brian had been lying.

Now, we were at the closing arguments and I was thinking that Bruno had wasted his money on getting Brian a hot-shot lawyer. A half-brain-dead paralegal who'd flunked out of law school could've done a better job prosecuting the case.

When Winston stood to begin his closing arguments, there was no indication on his face that he thought this would go anything but his way.

"Law is about facts," he began. "Evidence. You've heard testimony of what happened that night in Brian Radcliff's cabin. You've heard a series of events that the facts support. The physical evidence at the scene corroborates the testimony you've heard. You've heard from a woman who'd been abused by the defendant. You heard how she had been awarded custody by the courts, proving she is the fit parent. Brian Radcliff broke the law when he violated that agreement and took Michelle Radcliff from her mother's home. Emma Radcliff has testified to her ex-husband's abuse, proving that he is a violent man who would have no qualms over pointing a gun at people who were trying to rescue his daughter. Based on the facts, I have no doubt that you will render a verdict of guilty."

As he finished his speech, I had a moment of sudden clarity. Winston was so sure of himself that he thought if he simply told the jury that his explanation of events was correct, they'd believe him. I shifted in my seat. Things weren't looking good for Emma.

Reynolds stood, smiling at the jury as he walked towards them. "Mr. Winston has asked you to follow the facts, and I encourage you to do the same. I believe, however, that you know a fact is something that can be proven to be true. We all know that there are two sides to every story, and when you're in court, your job as a jury is to decide if one version of the story causes reasonable doubt in the other version. There are no physical facts here that can confirm which of these two versions of events is true. Yes, they do support the series of events that Mr. Winston claims to be true, but they also support the scenario told by my client." He put his hands in his pockets. "Now, I know some of you may have thought I was being mean to some of Mr. Winston's witnesses. Maybe even that I was twisting words and making assumptions that didn't have any proof. But, remember that it's not my job to prove that Mrs. Radcliff conspired with two other people to harm her ex-husband and frame him for kidnapping. It's only my job to point out that the evidence says it's possible. You might not want to believe that the things I said could be true, but if you believe that they could be true, that there is a possibility, however remote, that Brian Radcliff did not kidnap his daughter, then you must find him not guilty."

Damn. He was good.

After the judge ruled that the jury would begin deliberations in the morning, Winston turned and gave Emma and me a smile that clearly said he thought he'd won.

"I think that went well." The positive note in Emma's voice sounded forced. "It's in the jury's hands now."

"I just wish my testimony had gone better." I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I thought it was all over, no thanks to Winston.

"You did great," Emma said firmly. She squeezed my arm. "No need to worry."

I didn't say anything as we walked out of the courtroom. I caught a glimpse of Brian out of the corner of my eye and steered Emma away from him. She deserved at least one more night of thinking Brian would be out of her life.

"I want to take you and Luke to a nice dinner," Emma said suddenly. "Michelle's spending the night at a friend's, so we can take our time and relax. After all of this, I need to be with friends and...I need a drink."

Less than thirty minutes later, Luke met us at one of Summerville's fancier restaurants. It wasn't black tie or anything, but it was nicer than the little beach places I usually went to. As we settled into our booth, Emma announced that she didn't want to talk about anything serious and that tonight would be all about getting to know each other. Considering everything the three of us had on our minds, a meal with mindless chatter sounded amazing.

We'd only just ordered our drinks when I saw a familiar face sitting alone at the next table.