Exposed Read online

  Exposed

  Splitsville Legal Thriller Series, Volume 2

  WILLIAM BERNHARDT

  Published by Babylon Books, 2021.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Praise for William Bernhardt

  Three’s Company

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Court of No Return

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  The Best of Both Worlds

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Afterword

  Sneak Preview

  About the Author

  Also by William Bernhardt

  Sign up for WILLIAM BERNHARDT's Mailing List

  Praise for William Bernhardt

  “Splitsville is a winner—well-written, with fully developed characters and a narrative thrust that keeps you turning the pages. William Bernhardt has not only written another expert legal thriller, but once again he has his fingers on the realities of the modern legal system, and his portrayal of a female lawyer struggling to succeed is honest and compelling.”

  Gary Braver, bestselling author of Tunnel Vision and, with Tess Gerritsen, Choose Me

  “Bernhardt is the undisputed master of the courtroom drama."

  Library Journal

  “William Bernhardt is a born stylist, and his writing through the years has aged like a fine wine....”

  Steve Berry, bestselling author of The Kaiser’s Web

  “Once started, it is hard to let [The Last Chance Lawyer] go, since the characters are inviting, engaging, and complicated....You will enjoy it.”

  Chicago Daily Law Bulletin

  “[Court of Killers] is a wonderful second book in the Daniel Pike series...[A] top-notch, suspenseful crime thriller with excellent character development...”

  Timothy Hoover, fiction and nonfiction author

  “I could not put Trial by Blood down. The plot is riveting—with a surprise after the ending, when I thought it was all over....This book is special.”

  Nikki Hanna, author of Capture Life

  “Twisted Justice has the most mind-blowing twists of any thriller I’ve ever read. And everything works.”

  Rick Ludwig, author of Pele’s Fire

  “Judge and Jury is a fast-paced, well-crafted story that challenges each major character to adapt to escalating attacks that threaten the very existence of their unique law firm.”

  RJ Johnson, author of The Twelve Stones

  “Final Verdict is a must read with a brilliant main character and surprises and twists that keep you turning pages. One of the best novels I’ve read in a while.”

  Alicia Dean, award-winning author of The Northland Crime Chronicles

  Copyright © 2021 by William Bernhardt

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For my friends and loved ones in the Babylon Books family

  “I raise up my voice—not so that I can shout, but so that those without a voice can be heard.”

  Malala Yousafzai

  Three’s Company

  Chapter 1

  Even the fastest girl alive can’t run fast enough to escape all the predators out there.

  Chessie liked to think of herself as the fastest girl alive, though it probably wasn’t completely true. She wasn’t a superhero. She hadn’t been doused with radioactive chemicals or struck by lightning and imbued with powers far beyond those of mortal men or anything like that. But she had been the fastest person in her high school, and now she was the captain of her college soccer team, in no small part due to her speed. Also her dazzling charisma, she liked to think. But mostly her speed.

  In truth, she’d always been a bit on the shy side, and that had worsened since she lost her parents. Competing in sports was easier than making small talk on a first date or figuring out what to do at a rave. She wasn’t particularly bookish and she would never qualify as a mathlete, so she was grateful for the speed. If not for her twinkletoes and Title IX, she might have nothing at all.

  So what brought her to a frat party? I mean, she should know better, right? And yet, here she was. She had resolved to get out more. Although she loved her teammates, occasionally she wanted to talk about something other than the Rivelino and the Cruyff Turn.

  Okay, sure, she was flattered to be asked. Not that she was homely or anything, but she didn’t go in for a lot of makeup or haircare, and that plus the shyness and a physique that put most Big Men on Campus to shame, left her alone most Friday nights.

  She hadn’t been on a single date since she started college. Not once. Was that her fault? Did everyone assume that since she was captain of the team she must be a lesbian? That was so cliché and totally...wrong. She thought. She was pretty sure. She liked boys. Or would, if one gave her a chance.

  So she was totally caught off guard when the guy who sat in front of her in nutrition class invited her to a party. Was it a prank? Was he making fun of her? Was this one of those bashes where frat boys compete to nail the ugliest girl in school?

  Whatevs. Bottom line—he asked and here she was.

  Loud music. Loud talking, necessary to be heard over the music. Alcohol flowing from abundant portals. Herbal scents she wasn’t cool enough to identify. Heavy doses of Axe, which she could identify. Lots of crazy dancing, in some cases, too crazy to be called dancing. Before he died, her father tried to teach her the Batusi. That was dignified compared to most of what she saw here at the Beta house. A few people were attempting to have actual conversations, but she suspected the chat topics were not binomial equations or the work of Caravaggio.

  She made a few unsuccessful attempts at chatting, but mostly she listened. Didn’t take her long to realize that, although some fraternities claimed they’d cleaned up their acts, nothing had changed much. They still made racist remarks. And sexist remarks. This group had a few token members of color, but it was still essentially a white rich boys’ club. And they still treated women like meat, potential conquests. Notches on the belt. They acted as if they had the inside track, they knew how the world really worked, though she suspected most had privileged upbringings and had never worked a day in their lives.

  Did she need this? Absolutely not. Especially not in the middle of soccer season, and when the online news outlets were focusing on all the women who had disappeared recently. The so-called Seattle Strangler was on the prowl and she was hanging out with a wolf pack. This was a bad idea from the get-go.

  Just when she’d convinced herself she should leave, the gu
y who’d invited her strolled up, a goofy lopsided grin on his face. What was his name? Brian. She thought. Several inches taller than her, perfect hair, great smile. His red eyes and loose manner suggested he’d already had a few.

  “You came!” He virtually shouted, with a bug-eyed expression and jazz hands fluttering overhead.

  “You invited me.”

  “But you actually showed.”

  “You thought I was too stuck up?”

  “I thought you were too cool.”

  She relaxed a bit. “I try to be open to new experiences.”

  “How are you doing in class? I love nutrition. Like, nutrition is my life. Call me Mr. Nutrition.”

  She probably wouldn’t. “It’s interesting enough.”

  “I bet it’s easy for you. You’re awesome.”

  “You mean...”

  “On the soccer field.”

  “You saw one of our games?”

  “I’ve seen all of your games. I’m like your groupie.”

  She had groupies? Cute groupies? “You should’ve said hello sooner.”

  “I wanted to. I sat next to you in class on purpose. But...” His voice trailed a bit. “It took me a while to work up the courage to speak to you. Aloud, I mean.”

  This was too much for her to handle. Her head was spinning, and not just because of the blaring music. “I can’t believe you come to our games.”

  “I love those games. I love the way you move.” His voice dropped. “To be honest, when I watched you run across the field...I got kinda hard.”

  Okay, TMI. She did not need to hear that part.

  “No pressure or anything, but would you possibly like to step outside? Get some fresh air? We could probably have a deeper conversation if we got away from this electronic hook-track crap people pretend is music.”

  She was still fixated on his previous statement, but a chance to get out of this den of iniquity was welcome. They walked through the front door—a few guys whistled and winked as they passed—and entered the yard. She admired the English country-house façade, white pillars and brown oak shutters. A balcony on the upper floor.

  He motioned her to the side of the house. Dark here, she noted. Darker than she expected. She doubted anyone could see them from the street. And there was no way anyone in the house could hear them.

  Maybe this was a bad idea.

  “Aw, man, this is so much better,” he said, pressing a hand against the side of his head. “My ears were ringing.”

  “They do look red,” she replied. “So what do you do when you’re not in nutrition class?”

  He shrugged. “Like everyone else in the frat. Mandatory Study Hall. Mandatory functions. Mandatory meetings.”

  “Do they let you pee by yourself?”

  “Usually.” He did a doubletake. “Wait, you were joking, weren’t you?”

  She pointed. “Nothing slips past you.”

  “Maybe I’m not at my best right now. I’m...well, I’m a little intimidated. Being here. With you. Alone.”

  She tried to change the subject. “You must do something other than frat stuff.”

  “I like music. Video games. A good burger.”

  “Hobbies?”

  He hesitated a moment, as if weighing options. “I’m kinda into...strangulation games.”

  She wasn’t expecting that response. “Did I hear you correctly?

  “It’s not dangerous. Just good fun. Have you smoked weed?”

  “Once.” And it made her sick. “Didn’t do much for me.”

  “Me neither. But you can get a high six times stronger and better.”

  “From strangulation games?”

  “Bingo. Wanna try?”

  She took a step back. “I don’t think that’s for me.”

  “You never know.”

  “I think I do. It—”

  “—could be perfect. You’re an athlete, so you can’t take drugs. You’re in training, so you can’t do alcohol. This high is stronger and leaves no traces in your bloodstream.”

  Another step backward. “Still a hard pass. Maybe we should go back—”

  She thought she was fast, but he proved faster. His arm sprang out like a cobra. He grabbed her by the neck with surprising strength, whirled her around and slammed her against the side of the house.

  Her head reeled. Bursts of light flashed before her eyes. She wasn’t quite unconscious, but she couldn’t muster the strength to resist.

  “Just go with it,” he said, his voice breathy and urgent. “You’re going love this.”

  “I...won’t,” she managed. “Let go.”

  “Trust me. I’ve done this before.”

  She tried to squirm away, but she couldn’t get free. What was wrong with her? She knew she was stronger than this pampered preppie. But she couldn’t get her head together.

  “Don’t struggle. Relax. Enjoy it.”

  She gritted her teeth and tried to kick him, but he was too close, pressing against her, blocking her arms and legs.

  And all at once, she remembered the news stories about the disappearing women...

  Oh my God. Him? She was going to be the next one...

  “If you want,” he whispered, “a little arousal makes the experience even more powerful. Like an orgasm etched in rocket fuel.”

  “I—don’t—” She twisted from side to side, but nothing seemed to work. She felt limp and uncoordinated. He counteracted her every attempt to escape, usually before she’d begun it. He had this routine down cold. Her speed wasn’t going to help her. Not while she was trapped under his icy grip.

  He was fumbling with the button at the front of her jeans. She was losing consciousness. She felt numb, dizzy. Just a few more moments and she suspected she wouldn’t notice anything...

  “Hey! What’s going on back there?”

  Her eyes flew open. Someone was racing toward them. She couldn't make out the details, but the voice was male. As he approached, she saw that he had a cast on his left arm and a slight limp. He was older—too old to be a frat boy.

  “Screw off, Grandpa,” Brian said. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  “Let go of the girl.”

  “Make me.” Brian grinned a little. “Did you think you were going to be the knight in shining armor? Were you going to play Superman? We’re just having fun. Consenting adults and all that.”

  The newcomer looked straight at Chessie. “Is this consensual?”

  It was a struggle, but she managed to shake her head no.

  “Let go of the girl. I’m counting to three.”

  “Look, loser, I’ll call some of my buddies to des—”

  Before he could finish the word, the interloper kicked Brian in the hip—hard. Mr. Nutrition flew sideways and crumbled.

  Chessie clutched her neck. He’d hurt her, badly. Her skin was tender. But she could breathe again.

  The newcomer hovered over Brian as he lay on the ground. “Two choices. Disappear right now and never get near this woman ever again. Or I call the cops and report that you’re the Seattle Strangler and I just witnessed an attempted homicide.”

  The frat boy released a string of swear words. But in the end, he brushed himself off and skittered away.

  “I don’t think he’ll bother you again,” the man said. “Are you okay?”

  She was still massaging her neck. “I’ll live.” She drew in a deep breath. “I thought I was toast. Thank you.”

  “No big deal. I live not far from here. I power-walk every night. Thought I heard someone struggling, though it’s a miracle I could hear anything given how much noise that party is making.”

  Although the light was low, she got a clearer view of her rescuer. He was older than the college kids, but hardly old enough to justify being called Grandpa. Seemed friendly. Earnest. “Again, thanks. What happened to your arm?”

  “Oh. That. Stupidest story imaginable. Fell out of a tree. How’d you get hooked up with that loser?”

  “God knows. He’s in one of
my classes.”

  “And that meant he could assault you? You should probably report this. He might try it one someone else. Or you might be able to sue him. I have a lawyer friend who specializes in representing women. She might be willing to help.”

  “I’d rather just forget about it.”

  “What did he want?”

  She shrugged. “He talked about...strangulation games.”

  “What?”

  “I think the idea is that you get a buzz from almost dying but not quite. Supposed to be super-powerful.”

  “Unless his timing is off. And then you don’t get a buzz. Because you’re dead.”

  “Right. Definitely not something I care to pursue.”

  He took a step back. “Well, I should probably finish my walk. If you’re sure you’re okay.”

  “I am. I really appreciate what you did.”

  “No problem. Maybe next time—screen your dates? Pass on the guys who are into living dangerously. It isn’t worth it.”

  “Good advice.”

  “Plus, he was doing it completely wrong.”

  All at once, she felt her head slam back against the house, this time so hard she almost lost consciousness. It took her a few moments to realize he had thrust his knee between her legs. Pain radiated in two opposing directions.

  He gripped her neck and slammed her head back several more times. She started to scream, but a fist collided with the side of her face before she had a chance. She felt blood dripping from her nose and lip.

  Not again! She summoned all her strength to resist—

  And he knocked it out of her with a single blow. Her head drooped.

  The fake cast fell from his arm. He pinned her back with both hands.

  “This is the proper grip,” he explained. “The hand has to go way back, pressed up against the throat, thumb under the hyoid. That’s how you induce strangulation. Trust me, I would know.”

  She could barely whisper. “You’re—You’re—”

  “Not so much into the twisted orgasm thing. I’ve got a different endgame.”

  “Please.” It was more air than voice. Barely audible. “Please don’t—”

  “Say goodnight, Gracie.” She felt his hand tighten and her lungs constrict. She struggled for air but couldn’t find any. Her head was blanketed with blackness.