Prosecutorial Misconduct

Chapter 7

When she awakened, Weaver found herself alone in McCoy's bed. She smiled with sweet satisfaction, as she remembered the events that had transpired a few hours before. She stretched her body, reveling in the exquisite comfort of waking in something other than a prison bunk. Resisting the urge to go back to sleep, she reluctantly threw off the down comforter.

She slipped into the sweat suit McCoy had left on the edge of the bed and she went to the back of the dresser. Using the over sized sleeves of the sweat shirt to cover her hands, she quickly found the remote. Weaver swiftly unplugged the cord, carefully following its path. She pulled the camera down into her waiting hands. After unplugging the camera from the DVD player, she removed the disk and went to the closet.

The box was where Diana had said it would be. After depositing the camera and cords in it, she slipped it back to the far end of the closet, among the collection of shoe boxes and sweaters she once again assumed belonged to the former Mrs. McCoy.

Slipping the disk in her waistband, she cautiously ventured back into the living room. She was relieved her good fortune seemed to be holding. With a sigh of relief, she picked up her handbag and placed the disk inside. Taking the bag with her,Weaver made her way to the bathroom to freshen up after the nights activities.

She much as she had enjoyed herself, she knew better than to push her luck. She needed to get herself and that disk as far away from Jack McCoy as she could, before there was a chance for anything to go wrong. She was just finishing her make up when there was a quick tap at the door.

Weaver looked up as McCoy stuck is head in the room, a cup of coffee in hand.

"Good morning, I thought after last night you might need this."

"Thanks,"she said reaching for the cup.

McCoy set the cup on the counter as he forcefully drew her in to an embrace, his hands working their way up the inside of the sweatshirt.

"Are you ready to pick up where we left off last night," he asked ravishing her mouth before she could reply.

"Jack,"she said breathlessly pulling away,"last night was fun-"

"'Fun'," he said incredulously."That's putting it mildly."

"You're right - it was unforgettable,"she said more than a little surprised at his ardent manner."but-"

"But what? Samantha, I know I was skeptical, but last night you convinced me."

"Convinced you," she said as she moved quickly toward the living room."Of what?"

"Why…of your innocence,"he said as he followed her.

Weaver dropped the pile of clothing she had hastily began to gather and whirled around.

"Don't try to play me, McCoy," she said scrutinizing his face.

McCoy gave her a well practiced look of sincerity, embracing her once more.

"I deserve that. After you went to sleep, I started thinking about you. The risk you took tracking me down. The guts it took to, not only be so open and honest, but to give youself to a man that had shown nothing but suspision and contempt towards you. I figured I owed it to you to review your case file. I stayed up half the night doing it. You were right - nothing but circumstantial evidence. Samantha," he said his eyes meeting hers. "You were right - I was an arrogant bastard."

Weaver stared at McCoy trying to determine if this was yet another trick, another attempt at somehow getting a confession out of her.

She stood back, reclaiming the pile of clothing.

"It's in the past. Right now, I just want to get on with the rest of my life."

"You're still angry with me. That's understandable." he said following her into the bedroom. "Why don't you spend the day with me. Better yet, the weekend."

Weaver threw the sweater on, now completely dressed.

"Angry,"she said sharply. She reminded herself to stay focused, not to ruin months of planning by indulging in an implusive tirade.

"Jack. I think you're getting carried away,"she said blocking his attempt to embrace her once more."I can't begin to tell you what a pleasure last night was. But I have commitments in Manhattan this morning. Besides, we both agreed. Last night was sex - great sex- but nothing more."

He looked down at the carpet, feigning disappointment.

"I didn't mean to push you. Listen, can I at least give you a ride back to your car? Maybe buy you breakfast?"

Weaver looked around and moved towards the bathroom.

"I've been locked up so long," she said grabbing her purse off the counter and making a bee line for the front door."The walk would do me good."

McCoy helped her with her jacket and nodded.

"Samantha, I certainly never expected anything like last night. I would like to see you again."

Weaver smiled taking smug satisfaction in the fact not only were McCoy's doubts apparently alleviated, but the man seemed to be smitten.

"Jack," she said after kissing him chastity on the cheek. "I promise, you will be hearing from me again."

McCoy watched her as she headed back towards the boardwalk, his forlorn expression dissolving into a smirk.

"Well McCoy," the other man said with a hint of envy, "now I see how you ended up thinking with something other than your brain. She's quite a number."

"Speaking of numbers, "McCoy said turning to the former homicide detective who now stood beside him. "Any luck with the ones you got from her cell phone?"


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