The Murder of Sara Barton (Atlanta Murder Squad Book 1) by Lance McMillian (primary phonics txt) 📗

no one should ever have to endure, you didn’t give up the fight. You rededicated yourself to the pursuit of justice, and we all draw inspiration from what you do and the professionalism with which you do it. We want to say thank you and to congratulate you on another win at trial. May Corey Miller never see the light of freedom again.”

Applause.

The staff finishes clapping, and pats on the backs go around. The attention appropriately humbles me, but the slow shame stings. Public disclosure that I’m sleeping with a witness in the office’s biggest case would make everyone in this room look bad. Guilt by association.

Bobby adds, “There is more. Ella, your turn.”

Ella moves next to him and starts:

“As Bobby said, we all see how hard you work. We also know that you’ve been working non-stop without a break for a couple of years now. We think you need a vacation. We all pitched in and reserved you a cabin in the North Carolina Highlands starting Wednesday through Sunday. You can go off by yourself and recharge, but you cannot take any work! You are a great mentor and a friend. You inspire us, and we love you.”

She hugs me, wiping away tears from her eyes as she does so. The guilt I feel stabs the heart repeatedly. Everyone applauds again—the praise heaping burning coals on my head.

Bobby emphasizes, “And you have to take the time off! No work! That’s an order! We need you rested and focused for the Barton trial.”

More applause.

People in the office have long encouraged me to take a vacation. I’ve always resisted. But things are different now. I put my guilty conscience to the side. I think of Lara and agree to go to the mountains.

***

Before I leave, Scott and I meet to discuss Barton. As part of the investigation, Scott periodically sends officers to stake out the Barton place. Turns out that Monica Haywood has moved in. Apparently, the two lovebirds are engaged.

I exclaim, “What?”

“She is living there. Her condo is empty and for sale. Everything has been moved out.”

“Is he insane? Does he want to get convicted?”

“He doesn’t care about appearances, does he?”

“Millwood can’t know. No way he would allow that. The jury will convict Barton for epic bad taste if nothing else.”

Barton’s arrogance continues to puzzle me. He can’t be so stupid. Maybe his sense of superiority is so ingrained that he can’t control himself. I don’t know. But I do know juries, and arrogance never plays well. Once the jury decides it doesn’t like a defendant, the odds of that defendant escaping conviction near zero. Barton is dancing with fire. Millwood would tell him the same.

Scott says, “They finally got you to take a vacation, huh? Good. I had an idea about that.”

“What?”

“You should take Ella.”

“I thought you were going to tell me to take you.”

“You’re not my type.”

I shrug, hoping to deflect further Ella talk. Scott continues to assess me, making clear he wants some kind of answer.

I offer, “I want to be alone. Think about things. It will do me some good. Ella understands.”

“She’s not going to wait forever. You’re making a mistake.”

“I don’t think so.”

20

Lara radiates beauty on the drive to the mountains. A fear gripped me that California would change her back into a famous movie star, too good for someone so pedestrian as me. That kind of worry eats at a person, exposing the fine line between love and torture. On Monday night, I paced around the condo waiting for her with panicked nervousness, watching the slow clock tick. When she came through the door, relief flooded me. She was mine again. Two days later, we make our way to the mountains.

The cabin is perfect—secluded from prying eyes, views that go on for miles, welcoming solid wood. I walk the circumference of the wraparound porch a full three times to bask in the glory. The setting is like paradise, our own little Eden tucked away in the North Carolina hills.

Lara takes the opportunity afforded by the privacy to walk around the cabin stark naked, as if doing so is the most natural thing in the world. I stare stupefied. The planned grocery run will keep.

Entwined together in bed, the random shadows cast by the bright but fading sun draw patterns across our skin. Lara snuggles closer to me, using both my body and the last remnants of the day’s allotment of sunshine to keep herself warm. The mystery of light has always fascinated me. I was born a creature of the day, rising farm early, eager to experience the new horizons that burst anew with each sunrise. Somewhere along the way I became a creature of the night. Amber and Cale’s murders accelerated the trend, but I blame the city. No one goes outside during the day in the city.

We finally make it to town to stock up on supplies. Lara sports a wig, glasses, and a Braves cap to hide her identity. The transformation works. I don’t even recognize her. The charade excites me. It’s as if I’m perpetuating a massive heist on an unsuspecting world—the possessor of secret knowledge that belongs to me alone.

Back at the cabin Lara wears the wig even when it’s time for bed. “Pretend I’m someone else,” she says. “Pretend you’re someone else.” The thought is a strange one for me. I’ve never been anyone other than myself. “You can be anyone you want to be,” she adds to encourage me. “Who do you want to be?” I consider the question and land on an answer.

I want to be a man who is free from consequences.

Following Lara’s lead, I embrace the role and submit to the power of imagination, both mine and hers. From far inside of myself, I see two strangers in the night play out their parts with reckless intensity, the woman firmly in control, slowly kidnapping the man and transporting him to places he has never before been.

***

Friday afternoon arrives. I sit