Chapter 6
By the time the work day was over, which was always much later than 5 or 6 PM for Erica even on court days, she retired home. Mark, her fiancé of nearly a decade, was out when she arrived. That had become more and more frequent, but she wasn’t one to complain and relished in having at least a few minutes for herself. He had left a sweet note in the kitchen that he was out with mates and had left dinner in the refrigerator, causing a small smile to appear on her lips.
It was rare for either of them to text each other if they were going out when the other wasn’t home. This had lead to a series of sticky notes being pasted in various locations around their otherwise neat home. Erica had been the one to initially start leaving notes around the house back when her hours at Wentworth had become so erratic that she had often become too stressed to actually speak to Mark either way. She remembered telling herself that it might have resulted in giving him too much information as to why she allowed her odd hours some measure of regularity. Mark, on the other hand, had found the notes a fun way to interact with his fiancée and had adopted them in turn. Though, Erica had to admit, he had been using them much more recently than she had been. Were they really even cohabiting at this point? They barely saw one another. It was the best she had felt about her relationship in years.
As she sat down on the couch with a tumbler of scotch (neat, always), she thought about her meeting with Franky earlier in the day. What was it about the dark featured woman that kept her sucked in like a magnet, even after years without contact? Just as she was about to text Franky, perhaps an apology for having to head off to court so quickly, she heard the door unlock. She tossed her phone back on the coffee table and tried to look a little more enthusiastic about seeing her fiancé.
- - -
“You should be celebrating, not still doing homework.” Bridget kissed Franky gently on top of the head, looking down to see the brunette highlighting and writing notes in the margin of a text book. “These assignments probably aren’t even due for another week, are they?”
Franky looked up with a grin. “The faster I can get these assignments out of the way, the more time we’ll have to celebrate in the future.”
“Always looking ahead.” Bridget smiled, moving back towards the kitchen. She was cooking tonight for a change. “But, we didn’t celebrate the night you got the internship, so hurry up.”
“Let me just finish this, then I’m all yours.” She said with a laugh, though her eyes didn’t follow Bridget away. Truth be told, she thought that if she continued to focus on her future assignments (which she would be doing anyway), it would keep her mind off of Erica Davidson and the way that they still danced around each other as if she hadn’t changed in all these years and Erica had never walked out of her life without a word.
Yet here she was sitting in Bridget’s home, still thinking about the way Erica had pulled her hand away from her shoulder the other morning and how she wished she had held it there instead.
* * *
“The whole way this case was handled from the start has been a disaster,” Chief Crown Prosecutor Jim McCraig groaned as he scanned through one of the many files stacked on his desk. “Who the hell was her lawyer? How was she even released from protective custody?” He sounded increasingly alarmed as he looked across to Erica Davidson and senior crown prosecutor Theresa DeKoenig as if they could answer all manner of his inquiry. They were seated in the rather large mahogany furnished office belonging to the Director of Public Prosecutions.
Theresa spoke first, “The fact that you and John hadn’t let the state give me this case to begin with is half your problem. The state’s star witness was found burned to a crisp the day of her trial, how is that not suspicious? And they just let her walk away?” She was an arrogant woman, but rightly so. She hadn’t been a Rhodes Scholar twice over and Jim McCraig’s likely successor at barely forty for nothing. “Why the state didn’t go for a direct indictment is beyond me. The evidence against her was and is staggering, despite her supposed ‘mental state’,” Barrister DeKoenig scoffed. She clearly pulled no punches.
Jim huffed, ignoring his senior prosecutor’s statements. “Well you have it now. Aside from having to reevaluate the initial adjournment, we now additionally have to prosecute for these two attempted murders.” He sighed and turned his attention to the blonde senior solicitor, who had been quietly reviewing parts of the file on her lap. “Erica, I’d like you to work with Theresa on this. I should’ve appointed you initially but, I was worried...”
“That my history at Wentworth would be a conflict of interest?” Erica completed his sentence as she looked up. “It still might be. Apparently, one of the women she tried to kill was under my care when I was governor.” She frowned. Her tenure as governor of Wentworth had been fraught with her own politics and power games, but she was able to pride herself on feeling that the prison was much less of a catastrophe under her brief reign. Somehow, Jacqueline Holt’s death had become the most mundane event to occur at the prison in the years since her departure. If this wasn’t so horrendous,I would laugh in Channing’s smug face.
“I think Erica’s understanding of how the prison is run and her familiarity with some of the COs and inmates would be an asset.” Theresa acknowledged. She and Erica had worked together previously and she enjoyed the senior solicitor’s efficiency and attention to all matters of detail. “I doubt having her on as solicitor would effect any sort of due process.”
“Unfortunately,” Erica began. “Our dear defendant was my successor. I’m sure the defense will bring that up. It makes it seem like we, or I specifically, have an agenda.”
“Well, then I’d like you working on this case until the defense complains.” Jim McCraig simpered. He didn’t care; Erica’s insight would be invaluable. The defense could raise their concerns after most of the legwork had been done. The fact that the state wasn’t able to prosecute Joan Ferguson sooner was a tarnish on the OPP’s record as far as he was concerned. While the Director of Public Prosecutions was taking his long overdue holiday, Jim had been saddled with the role of Interim Director in addition to his already busy role as Chief Crown Prosecutor. He felt constantly bombarded with idiocy from all fronts. He hoped that by giving this case to his best solicitor and barrister, things would start to go even a bit more smoothly.
Erica nodded her assent as she stood up to leave. “I’ll get started immediately then. We’ll be in touch, Theresa.” She would need to find Franky Doyle. Her favorite trouble-maker couldn’t be a better resource and was, hopefully, easily accessible.
- - -
“I thought I’d be seeing more of you around the office,” Franky gibed. She and Erica were seated just down the street from the Office of Public Prosecutions, near the car park. They hadn’t seen each other since Erica had initially offered her the internship at the café. “But two weeks in, here you are.” She clapped her hands in faux excitement.
Erica shook her head, always trying to conceal a smile around her cheeky former charge. “The internship is treating you well then?”
“You want something.” Franky stated, not bothering with small talk. “You’ve always only come to me when you needed something.” She crossed her arms over her chest, though her expression remained open. Erica Davidson hadn’t quite made it off her shit list yet, however she had found it difficult to resist trolling the former governor’s office during coffee breaks. It was so close, yet she had managed to stay away and had quite purposely tried to avoid running into the senior solicitor. She wanted to make it clear – for both of them – that she was there specifically to learn at the Office of Public Prosecutions, not bait Erica.
(During work hours, at least.)
“You know that’s not true, Franky.” Erica frowned. It was only half-true, her favorite. “I’ve been trying to get a handle on you at work for a few days now. Simon’s been keeping the lot of you busy.”
“It’s mostly bitch work.” She sighed. “I was more useful when I was working legal relief.”
“It gets better.” Erica tried to be reassuring, though she was aware that interns rarely got to do anything exciting. She was lucky and had been able to complete her own internship hours at her father’s firm when she was in law school. He had always been comfortable putting his daughter straight to work, even while she still studied. “Also, don’t lay all the blame on me. My office is the next floor up. You could’ve bothered me at any point. That never used to stop you.”
Franky took a sip from her take-away coffee, affording her a second to parse her next words. The work day was over, but she still had a long night ahead. “Well, things change. And as you said, I’ve been busy,” she shrugged. “Now what do you want?”
Erica sighed. Franky would always be a tough nut to crack, even if they were on the best of terms, she mused. That was just how their interactions seemed to work. “I’ve been appointed to a case that I think you could help with.” She paused and added with a look of nonchalance, “Maybe it could get you out of some bitch work.”
Franky eyed the senior solicitor suspiciously. “Go on.”
“What can you tell me about Joan Ferguson?”
“We called her ‘The Freak’.”
“From what I’ve heard so far, that seems like an understatement.”
“That place went to shit after you left, Erica,” Franky said seriously, her green eyes hardening. “You have no idea.” Erica hadn’t read far enough in yet to discover all of the atrocities that occurred under Ferguson’s gloved fist.
Should she apologize? She hadn’t intended to leave Wentworth worse off after her resignation, not that she really had a choice in the matter. Erica crossed her legs uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact.
Franky frowned and tapped her hand on the table to get Erica’s attention again. “Oi, we’re not talking about you or what happened to me.” She held Erica’s gaze. She was sure that if she was to help Erica with this case, they would inevitably be spending more time together. Further conversations about each other and what the nature of their relationship was supposed to be could wait until then. “Ferguson is a fuckin’ monster. You didn’t appoint her. I’m just telling you, when you finish going through those files, you’re going to wish that you had fought harder to stay.” And not just for me.
Erica listened as Franky told anecdotes about Ferguson’s punishments and her mistreatment of both the officers and the inmates. She left out any stories about herself, including the fire. Erica would find that out on her own, she was sure.
“I haven’t even finished going through everything related to her.” Erica said. “But, from what you’ve told me so far, I can’t just have you helping out on this case. I’d need you on as a witness.”
“Erica, do you really think you would get the other girls to talk to you?” Franky stared at the blonde seated across from her. “You might not be the Freak, but you were still a screw.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, this is to put away the woman away who tormented them.” Erica said sternly. “Even Bea Smith was supposed to testify at the first trial.”
Franky didn’t remember that. Had Bea told her at one of their meetings? She must have. If Bridget had known, she certainly hadn’t said anything. She cleared her throat. “All the same, I’d be more use to you and this case not as a witness.”
Erica looked past Franky absently; she pursed her lips as she thought. She knew that if she could get Franky to testify, the prosecution’s case would be guaranteed a win. She would call Theresa DeKoenig later to discuss this. Erica had no doubt that the rambunctious ex-con had certainly gotten into trouble during Joan Ferguson’s governorship and knew even more than what she had let on already.
“So, what do you say?”
Erica blinked, turning her attention back to Franky. “I’d say, I’d want you to think about it.”
“It’s been thought about. But, fine.” Franky said as she slapped her hands on the table and stood up to leave. “See you around Miss Davidson.” As she walked away, she turned around to see Erica watching her go. Though Franky thought she could pride herself on reading the senior solicitor very well, she still always found herself wondering what Erica Davidson was really thinking.