Gerry O'Hara - Silver Serenade

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Text copyright 2012 Gerry OHara

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Published by Montlake Romance

P.O. Box 400818

Las Vegas, NV 89140

ISBN-13: 9781612186887

ISBN-10: 1612186882

Standing outside courtroom three, Christie Hamilton shifted from one foot to the other. She swiped at a flyaway strand of hair that fell across her face as she bent her head to check her watch. She thought he would have shown up by now; court was due to convene in fifteen minutes.

During the course of her career, people had come to her with their problems. She often resolved difficulties between partners, repaired broken trust in relationships, and exposed intricately planned deceptions.

Christie was not an Ann Landers or Dear Abbyshe was a highly regarded questioned document examiner. Christie was not a newcomer to superior court trials; she was often called to take the stand as an expert witness, as she was today, or called to a home or office to verify or dispute a signature, and the weight of her response lay heavily on her shoulders. Knowing that a misguided belief in a forgery could alter a persons life, she helped untangle those mistakes.

Christie anxiously glanced at her watch again; punctuality was ingrained in her character. A sound at the other end of the corridor caught her attention. A tall, athletically built man was barreling down the hall, surrounded by a phalanx of men and women attempting to keep up. Briefcases bounced against their hips and high-heeled shoes clattered like a stampeding herd of cattle.

Christie recognized the man at the center of the whirlwind: it was Cash McCullough. She had seen him often in television interviews, and his photo appeared regularly in newspaper articles. In person the attorney was larger than in his pictures; he was a portrait of strength and vigor.

She stepped forward to meet the approaching maelstrom.

Mr. McCullough The words seemed to be swallowed up in the eye of the storm. Mr. McCullough! She tried again to catch his attention. Im Christie Hamilton, the document examiner you hired to testify in this case.

With barely a flicker of name recognition and a quick hello, McCullough looped his arm around Christies and pulled her along. Caught off balance, she almost stumbled.

At the entrance to the courtroom, the scene disassembled. One of the men gently tugged his jacket into place, another straightened his tie, while a woman pushed at a stray hair.

McCullough grasped the large brass handle on the courtroom door and pulled it open. He nodded at Christie, then vanished inside with his entourage in hot pursuit.

Christie sat down on a bench outside the courtroom and fought to regain her usual self-possession before being called to testify. McCulloughs energy had been contagious, pushing her heartbeat into a frenzy. She took a few deep breaths to slow it to a natural rhythm.

Twenty minutes passed before a bailiff opened the door and motioned her inside. After she was sworn in, McCullough established her credentials. She placed her laptop on the table and plugged it into a projector. An enlarged photo of two documents, side by side, flashed onto a screen. Using a laser pointer, Christie began her testimony.

The handwriting in both documents appears to look the sameshe nodded toward the screenbut there are differences. The laser zipped around a half-dozen words. Notice how the looped letters are almost closed in this sentence. But in the other documentthe laser flew to the second document and tap-danced along a string of wordsthe loops are open. The ends of words have an upward slant in document one, while they almost imperceptibly turn down in document two. Although not discernible on the screen, close observation of the originals reveals that the writer of document one exerted more pressure on the pen.

Your conclusion, Ms. Hamilton? McCullough asked.

The documents were written by two different people.

After answering a few questions from the prosecutor, Christie took a seat a few rows behind McCullough and his assistants. It didnt take long for her to understand why he had become a legend in the legal crowd. His assertive voice, strong good looks, and powerful demeanor commanded the courtroom. Utilizing Christies testimony, he deftly laid out the proof that his client had not signed the document in question.

It took less than an hour for the jury to rule in the defendants favor. Another success for McCullough, another notch on his belt, she mused, as she picked up her computer case and left the courtroom.

As she walked down the hall, she heard McCulloughs cowboy boots clunking behind her. He called to her to wait. Catching up, he slipped his arm through hers and they continued on.

You handled yourself well, Christie. Certainly made my job easier.

Thank you. She turned to look at him. His wavy, sandy hair spilled to the edge of his collar. His face was tanned, and his eyes shone like polished agates. A hint of a dimple punctuated the corner of his mouth as it curved into an economical semismile, but was almost canceled by the assertive thrust of an angular jaw.

The attorney exuded magnetism and she was drawn into his field. He shook Christies hand and his grip was warm. Id like to call on you again, he said. Before she could reply, McCullough released her hand, nodded good-bye, and strode away. She watched as he quickened his steps to catch up with his team.

Christie knew that McCullough was one of the best criminal defense attorneys in Northern California. When he had called to ask her to test a couple of signatures for a case he was working on, she had taken it in stride. When he followed up with a request for her to be an expert witness in the trial, she had been a bit intimidated by the magnitude of his reputation. Now, having met him, she realized that it wasnt only his reputation as an attorney that had just thrown her off-center, it was also his ruggedly handsome looks.

After a thirty-minute cable-car ride, Christie walked into her apartment. She was greeted by a loud meow as a white-and-tan calico cat trotted to the entry. The cat rubbed against her legs, its tail wrapping possessively around her ankles. Christie bent over and swooped the cat into her arms.

I dont know what youre complaining about. At least you had lunch; I went without. She nuzzled the cats soft fur before putting it down in front of a half-empty dish of kibble. She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a can of Friskies. Stripping the lid off the can, she lopped a large spoonful of the treat into the cats dish, then filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove for tea.

You always come first, dont you, sweet Tosha? she said affectionately. She slipped a frozen dinner into the microwave while the teakettle screamed its readiness.

After dinner Christie curled up on the couch with Tosha contentedly sleeping on her lap. Relaxed, she mused over the afternoon. Observing Cash McCulloughs defense strategy had been exhilarating. He had a flair for working juries; when he spoke they listened. She wondered if the western tailoring of his suit and the Justin Boots were a facade. Juries undoubtedly ate it up, thinking he was a country boy who had made good in the big city.