Read Online Proof Positive (2006) by Phillip - Jaffe 3 Margolin - Free Book Online
Authors: Phillip - Jaffe 3 Margolin
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Ninth Circuit in San Francisco. Many of the top San Francisco firms had courted her, and her judge believed that she had an excellent chance of clerking at the United States Supreme Court, but Amanda could no longer resist the pull of criminal practice, and there was really only one place that she wanted to work. As soon as her clerkship ended, Amanda became an associate at Jaffe, Katz, Lehane, and Brindisi. Four years after starting at the firm, Amanda had made a name for herself in the notorious Cardoni case. Last year, she had made headlines again, when she had almost lost her life while defending Jon Dupre in a case that involved some of the most powerful men in the state and a conspiracy that stretched all the way to Washington, D.C. Amanda had a national reputation and was a partner in the firm. The cases poured in and she was making more money than she thought possible, but her personal life wasn't going nearly as well.
The film started, and Amanda carried her tea to her lounger. After a while, she lost herself in the movie. It was a silly comedy; just what she needed. She forgot how restless and lonely she was feeling until she turned out the lights two hours later and crawled into bed.
Chapter 7.
DOUG WEAVER SAT UP IN BED. HE WAS SWEATING, AND HIS HEART was beating rapidly. For a moment, he was not certain if he was home or in the death chamber at the Oregon State Penitentiary, staring down at Raymond Hayes's corpse. Then he saw the blurry red numbers on the clock on his nightstand and he knew that he'd had the nightmare again.
Doug swung his legs over the side of the bed and bent over to catch his breath. His neck and chest were damp. He was exhausted, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep for a while. He was never able to relax right after the dream. When a few minutes passed, Doug's breathing started to slow, and he stood unsteadily. Almost a year had passed since Raymond's execution, and he had not slept well. Many evenings, before he could drop off, he would think about the sentencing hearing and what he could have done differently. Marge Cross had assured him that he had done everything he could and she'd chastised him for punishing himself with hindsight, but in Weaver's nightmare, Ray said something else.
In the dream, only Ray and Doug were at the execution. Ray was strapped down on the gurney, and Doug was standing over him in the death chamber. Ray was as Doug had last seen him: his right eye closed and the left partly open, light reflecting off his dead, black pupil. What was different were Raymond's lips, which parted and mouthed words Weaver could not understand unless he bent close to his client's corpse.
Save me, Hayes whispered in the dream, and in the dream Doug snapped back, terrified.
Weaver always woke up after hearing the pathetic plea for help that he could never fulfill.
Doug wore contacts, but he kept eyeglasses on his nightstand for circumstances such as this. With his glasses on, he could see the clock clearly. It was 3:45. He had a court appearance at nine and he hadn't fallen asleep until after midnight. He would be a wreck in the morning his head would ache and his eyes would be raw and red. Most days were like that now.
Doug had let Karen stay in their house when she told him that she wanted to separate. He was renting a small Cape Cod in southeast Portland. It was all he could afford, since his practice wasn't going very well. It wasn't that he was a bad lawyer. If he were objective about his abilities, Douglas Weaver would conclude that he was better than most. He seldom screwed up, and there were occasional instances of brilliance. The problem was that Raymond's execution had taken the heart out of him.
Why did he go on, then? He had asked himself that question on several occasions, especially when he was depressed after a loss. The answer was always the same. Doug was a believer. He had wanted to be a lawyer all his life, and the origins of that desire
The film started, and Amanda carried her tea to her lounger. After a while, she lost herself in the movie. It was a silly comedy; just what she needed. She forgot how restless and lonely she was feeling until she turned out the lights two hours later and crawled into bed.
Chapter 7.
DOUG WEAVER SAT UP IN BED. HE WAS SWEATING, AND HIS HEART was beating rapidly. For a moment, he was not certain if he was home or in the death chamber at the Oregon State Penitentiary, staring down at Raymond Hayes's corpse. Then he saw the blurry red numbers on the clock on his nightstand and he knew that he'd had the nightmare again.
Doug swung his legs over the side of the bed and bent over to catch his breath. His neck and chest were damp. He was exhausted, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep for a while. He was never able to relax right after the dream. When a few minutes passed, Doug's breathing started to slow, and he stood unsteadily. Almost a year had passed since Raymond's execution, and he had not slept well. Many evenings, before he could drop off, he would think about the sentencing hearing and what he could have done differently. Marge Cross had assured him that he had done everything he could and she'd chastised him for punishing himself with hindsight, but in Weaver's nightmare, Ray said something else.
In the dream, only Ray and Doug were at the execution. Ray was strapped down on the gurney, and Doug was standing over him in the death chamber. Ray was as Doug had last seen him: his right eye closed and the left partly open, light reflecting off his dead, black pupil. What was different were Raymond's lips, which parted and mouthed words Weaver could not understand unless he bent close to his client's corpse.
Save me, Hayes whispered in the dream, and in the dream Doug snapped back, terrified.
Weaver always woke up after hearing the pathetic plea for help that he could never fulfill.
Doug wore contacts, but he kept eyeglasses on his nightstand for circumstances such as this. With his glasses on, he could see the clock clearly. It was 3:45. He had a court appearance at nine and he hadn't fallen asleep until after midnight. He would be a wreck in the morning his head would ache and his eyes would be raw and red. Most days were like that now.
Doug had let Karen stay in their house when she told him that she wanted to separate. He was renting a small Cape Cod in southeast Portland. It was all he could afford, since his practice wasn't going very well. It wasn't that he was a bad lawyer. If he were objective about his abilities, Douglas Weaver would conclude that he was better than most. He seldom screwed up, and there were occasional instances of brilliance. The problem was that Raymond's execution had taken the heart out of him.
Why did he go on, then? He had asked himself that question on several occasions, especially when he was depressed after a loss. The answer was always the same. Doug was a believer. He had wanted to be a lawyer all his life, and the origins of that desire
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