Ava
"All rise."
Harry and I stand along with everyone else in the courtroom, then we all take a seat once the judge enters. Soon follows the man being sentenced today: Alexander Cross.
For a moment, his eyes lock on mine and I stay emotionless. The last time I had spoken to him was degrading and downright disrespectful. There is no place for him to even stay in my mind much after today. He deserves to stay in prison for the rest of his life.
The trial begins and Gabriel Torres testifies first, explaining each instance he recalls. He follows his story, explaining each instance into extensive detail.
I watch Harry glance to me on numerous occasions, but I'm more focused on Alexander. His face has yet to falter from the glare plastered upon his features, and I'm not sure it will fade.
Bernadette Zetter follows to the stand, and they flash the photo I had taken of her wrists onto the screen, my nose releasing a deep breath.
To think that only a month ago, I was interviewing and talking with everyone going up to the stand. It felt like ages ago, but in actuality it wasn't. So many things have occurred since then, and time all seems to move quickly.
Watching Bernadette unfold on the stand, crying as she weeps for the loss of her friend. It's horrid to think that her jealous boyfriend could do such a horrific thing, all with the plan of winning her over. It's a sick situation; Alexander is a sick man.
I watch the prosecution bring up the recording of the confrontation of Alexander and Bernadette, my ears listening to it for the millionth time. It had been analyzed over and over, trying to find any discrepancies. The work I performed on this case was relentless, doing everything I could to pin him to the crime.
"The work of Lieutenant Nicks and Detective Styles proved how this man not only placed harm to his girlfriend, but showed his capabilities to harm Victoria Peters in a fatal way. It was wicked and vile, what he had done, and there are no excuses he can make to show he wasn't the one to have committed this crime," the prosecution states, taking a seat.
The defense comes up and I feel Harry nudge my knee with his own. It was light enough but enough to give me the sense he's just making sure I'm okay. I give him a nod of my head and watch the defense take a stand.
To say I'm in awe at the attempt is an understatement. There is no way the defense had any case to justify the murder of Victoria Peters. It's like watching a toddler talk in circles.
It's painful to listen to.
The judge calls for the jury to break and Harry and I go into the hall, grabbing a cup of coffee.
"How are you holding up?" he asks, and I nod my head as I take a sip.
"I'm fine," I say simply, his hand rubbing the top of my arm.
We hadn't spent time alone since I showed up at his house the night I got back from Denver. It's been so busy with Katrina's case that our time has been put on hold. Not that it should matter, but I've enjoyed spending time with him.
"Ava," I hear, my body turning to see Mr. Zetter. I shake his hand. He does the same with Harry.
"How have you been?" he asks me, and I shrug.
"Not too bad. We had another case open up shortly after Alexander's arrest. Hasn't been a dull moment," I say, and he smiles.
"How are you?" Harry asks, and Mr. Zetter nods.
"Not too bad. Joan was pretty shaken up for a while but our concern has been with Bernadette for weeks. She's been sick to her stomach with grief and the funeral was so sad. Victoria was a nice girl; it's a sick shame what happened," he says, and I nod.
"Again, I'm sorry for the loss. I know she wasn't family, but you understand from Bernadette's side. It's hard," I empathize, and he nods.
His wife joins him and I shake her hand, Harry doing the same.
"How have you been?" Harry asks her, and she gives a small smile.
"I've been better. I'm very concerned for Bernadette. Have been for weeks. I'm just so worried for her. She's not only losing her friend, but a boy she thought she loved. It's a hard situation; complicated to go through mentally," she says, and I take a sip of my coffee.
"Bernadette lost her mother a few years back so it's been me taking that role. It pains me to see her in such a state," Joan continues, my lips pressing together.
"I appreciate all you're doing for her," I say, and I feel Harry's arm brush my own. Just the smallest touch is starting to affect me and, although I should be bothered, I begin to enjoy it.
We say goodbye to the Zetters and Harry and I go off on our own, walking up and down the halls.
"Are you alright after everything with Katrina?" he wonders, and I look up at him.
"Yeah. I think what we talked about together helped," I say simply, and I look at the ground as we walk. My emotional state has gotten a lot better over the past few days. What I believe helped me the most was being there for Katrina. Knowing that I needed to be there for someone helped me get back on track. It made me feel so assured to know she was okay after I gave her insight to my own life.
Sometimes, giving a little bit of information like that out to someone in her circumstance helps. What I think she needed was to know someone understood what she was going through. Though our experiences were different, it's how they can be handled that are similar.
"She's going to be alright?" he continues, and I give him a nod.
"I talked with her a little about Jonah. And then I think testifying got her worried so I gave her a little bit of insight about my life," I explain, and he glances at me.
"Like what, if you don't mind me asking?" he says, and I sigh. If it were anyone but him, I wouldn't be talking about it. He knows a little about myself and it's nothing really new to him.
"I told her the story about my father; how I coped with it. When he died, I was restless. I had nightmares, barely slept, and just felt like a ghost. So I told her I could either keep living my life that way, or so something about it, and I told her I went to school to become a police officer," I tell him, and he smiles.
"You have a way with words, Nicks. It's amazing, honestly," he says, and I smile.
"Thank you," I tell him, and he smiles.
The trial is called and Harry and I make our way back to the courtroom, taking our previous seats. It only took the jury an hour to talk, and that does not mean good news for Alexander Cross.
I watch as Alexander is led back in, a glare still plastered on his face. He stays standing and the judge walks in, all of us standing again. Then we sit down after he's seated, Alexander's broad body standing between two lawyers half his size.
"Alexander Cross, the jury has made their decision. Jury you may read the verdict," the judge begins, and the jury representative comes to the stand.
"Yes, your honor," the woman says. "We, the jury, hereby find the defendant, Alexander Cross, guilty of count one, murder in the first degree."
The air escapes from my lungs and I feel my heart stop beating. The news is just what we were hoping for, yet I feel my stomach turn. It's always hard to hear the sentencing, regardless of the verdict. At least, for me it is.
The judge concludes with the jury and sentences Alexander Cross to life in prison without parole. He did not receive the death penalty.
But what I don't expect is for Alexander to turn around and face me. "You fucking bitch," he whispers, staring directly at me. I swallow the lump in my throat, keeping a straight face the entire time he is dragged out of the courtroom.
I feel Harry's eyes on me as I watch Alexander as he's escorted out, but I feel nothing. It's not the first time he's spoken such words to me. They're just words, and I have to remind myself that from time to time.
We're dismissed from the courtroom and I make no effort to stay and speak with anyone. It's not something I want to dwell on any longer, so I make my way out of the hall.
Harry is behind me in the walk to the squad car and I open the passenger side door, taking a seat. He follows suit by getting into the driver's seat, turning the car on. No words are spoken as he pulls out onto the street, and I keep my attention straight ahead of me.
'You fucking bitch' is all I hear echoing in my mind and I just hate that he's gotten under my skin. Alexander Cross is the first man to do so when it comes to these cases, and I haven't been able to wrap my mind around it clearly. His misogynistic ego and dark demeanor posed concern, but why it placed so much bother to me is what's rattling me.
I decide to take a deep breath and let it go. I'm never going to see Alexander Cross ever again, so there is no reason to dwell on the subject.
My head tilts back onto the headrest and I turn my head to look towards Harry, his eyes flickering to meet mine momentarily. The thought that ponders in my brain skips to make it an action much faster than I had wanted, so I reach over. Harry takes my hand and holds it in his lap, my lips pressing together to hide the smile that urges to trace over my lips.