Whenever I write a book, so much changes between the start of the process and the end. Scenes shift, change, and disappear. Sometimes I write a scene and decide it’s not what this book needs. I pull some elements from it to use in the new scene, while the original disappears into a deleted scenes document. I don’t really like to delete anything, because sometimes that scene will work in a later book. And sometimes they’re just fun to revisit. Here is one from Imperfect Justice that didn’t make it into the book. Why didn’t it make it? Two reasons:
1. It didn’t give the story the musical flow I needed.
2. I wanted the story to be more about Shannon and Marx healing their relationship than about Shannon bonding with Holly.
If you’ve read Imperfect Justice, you may notice an element or two that made it into chapter three of the finished product.
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Shannon selected a daisy-yellow and white dress from the clothing rack and caught the hem with her free hand, considering whether or not it would be appropriate in a courtroom. The fitted design was both elegant and professional, and the pop of color added an element of cheer, all things that would benefit her somber, sneaker-wearing witness.
The price was steep, but for a beautiful dress from an upscale boutique, it was reasonable enough.
“Can I help you find anything?”
Shannon smiled at the gentleman who wandered over from behind the counter. “We’re fine, thank you.”
He gave Shannon an uncertain look. “All right then.” He rearranged a few articles of clothing on the rack she was standing near, glanced at her again, then left her to shop.
She turned to show the dress to the young woman she would be calling to the witness stand next week, only to realize that she was nowhere in sight.
“Oh for goodness sake.”
No wonder the clerk looked at her like she was a fruit basket. She had said “we’re fine,” all the while standing completely alone.
“Holly?”
She scanned the second floor of the shop. At five foot eight with two inch heels, there were very few places Shannon couldn’t see. The problem was, Holly was barely five feet tall, and she could disappear between the clothing racks.
Shannon’s purse vibrated, and she reached inside to grab her phone. A text from Tia, the receptionist at the prosecutor’s office, lit up the screen:
There’s a woman here to speak with you. She says it’s urgent, but she doesn’t have an appointment and she won’t give her name.
She released a frustrated sigh and sent a quick thank you to Tia before slipping her phone back into her purse. She didn’t have time for unscheduled visitors this afternoon; she needed to touch up the opening statement that she would be presenting to a jury in two days.
It had been years since a trial made her this anxious, but this one was personal. The lives of people she cared about would be at risk if she failed to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Collin Wells was a monster who deserved to spend the rest of his life in prison.
Holly Cross—the young lady whose idea of dress clothes was jeans without holes and T-shirts without stains—was her reluctant star witness. The girl didn’t own a single item of courtroom-appropriate clothing, and convincing her to come shopping had been a verbal wrestling match.
Thankfully, Shannon had years of experience winning people over with persuasive arguments, and she silenced the last of Holly’s objections with a single explanation: “if you want the jury to take you and your testimony seriously, then you can’t walk into the courtroom dressed like a junior high kid.”
Holly bit her bottom lip and looked down at her outfit, then begrudgingly climbed into the back of the cab. The expression on her face when they walked into the boutique was priceless, like she was walking into an entirely different world.
Shannon put together several pants suits and blouses for her to try on, but Holly took one look at the curtained dressing rooms and shook her head. Even with Shannon standing just outside, she didn’t feel secure enough to strip out of her protective layers.
And now she was nowhere to be seen. After one quick glance around the second floor of the boutique, Shannon walked to checkout counter and handed the yellow dress to the clerk. If Holly didn’t like it, she would bring it back.
“Did you happen to see where the red-haired young woman disappeared to?” she asked, unsnapping her wallet.
“No, miss. Sorry.”
Shannon paid for the dress, and the clerk placed it in a cloth bag and zipped it up. She draped the purchase over her arm as she headed downstairs.
“Oh, excuse me,” she said, catching the attention of an older woman with a nametag. “I’m looking for a young woman. Red hair, petite, blue jeans, and,” she cringed a little before adding, “Purple rain boots.” It was a perfectly dry day.
The woman’s stenciled eyebrows climbed up her forehead. “Oh, you mean the girl who came in here to shoplift?”
“I beg your pardon?”
That didn’t sound like Holly at all. The moment she peeked at one of the price tags, her eyes widened, and she refused to touch anything. In hindsight, Shannon supposed she should’ve taken her to a more relaxed shop, rather than one she frequented herself.
“It happens all the time, unfortunately,” the woman explained. “The girl you’re describing was eyeing the jewelry.”
Shannon followed her attention to the locked jewelry case. Holly couldn’t have stolen anything if she wanted to.
“It was obvious by her behavior and the way she was dressed that she had no intention or ability to pay for anything, so I’m afraid I had to ask her to leave.”
Anger swept through Shannon. “You did what?”
“I sent her back out onto the street.”
“You had no right to treat her that way.”
The woman’s penciled-in eyebrows lifted again, and she seemed genuinely taken aback by Shannon’s displeasure. “It wasn’t as if I hurled her out onto the sidewalk. I simply escorted her to the door and suggested she shop elsewhere.”
Shannon’s grip on her purchase tightened as her anger grew. “That young woman you so disrespectfully profiled and tossed out is a witness in an upcoming trial. All she needed was something nice to wear while she testifies against her abductor. An outfit I intended to purchase.”
The employee opened her mouth, sputtering soundlessly before managing, “I’m sorry. There was no way for me to know—”
“You could’ve spoken to her for two minutes, and you would’ve realized your assumptions were wrong.”
Fuming, she made her way to the exit, leaving the employee gaping after her with her mouth hanging open, and stepped out onto the busy sidewalk. She couldn’t believe the nerve of that woman.
“Eyeing the jewelry,” she muttered. Of course Holly had looked at the jewelry; she was drawn to beautiful things like any other woman.
Shannon exhaled her anger and searched the passing faces for Holly. Where would she have gone? The girl had a habit of disappearing, and Shannon didn’t have time to search everywhere. She would have to call her and let her know she was headed back to the office. She unsnapped her purse to grab her phone, but then she noticed the candy shop next door.
“What are the chances?” she muttered to herself.
Shannon peered through the glass door covered in colored candy stickers and, sure enough, she caught a flash of red hair. She opened the door, and a cloud of sickeningly sweet air rushed toward her. She never much cared for sugar—it gave her headaches—but she knew that if it were possible, Holly would happily live on marshmallows and sprinkles.
She was such a curious young woman. At times, she seemed wise beyond her twenty nine years—too familiar with just how dark the world could be—and other times she was so sweet and innocent that she seemed almost childlike. Shannon had always maintained a professional barrier between herself and her clients, but somehow, Holly had slipped right through it.
She found the young woman studying a jar full of gummy bears with a pensive expression. “Well? Are you going to try them?”
Holly jumped, startled by the voice that had come from directly behind her, then slowly relaxed when she recognized Shannon. “Oh, um, yeah I’m thinking about it.”
“Judging by how intently you were staring at them, it must be a tough decision.”
“Mmm. I’m debating between gummy bears and cherry Jolly Ranchers. So kind of tough.” She slid her fingers into the back pockets of her jeans and rocked forward onto her toes. “Um . . . I’m sorry for . . .” She tilted her head toward the boutique next door.
“Sorry for what?”
“Apparently, I did something wrong, and that woman kicked me out.”
Shannon sidestepped a child who made a dash for the gum balls. “You did nothing wrong. She’s a snob.”
Holly smiled at the little boy who dashed from one candy container to the next, his mouth hanging open in wonder. She returned her attention to the gummy bears. “I think I’m gonna get a few. Do you want some?”
“No, thank you. I don’t like sugar.”
A mischievous smile lifted the corners of Holly’s lips. “I think you like sugar.”
Shannon puzzled over what must be an inside joke that no one had shared with her, then remembered she was short on time. “I need to get back to the office, but I wanted to make sure you’re all right first.”
“I’m fine.”
“Do you want me to call you a cab?”
“No, it’s a nice day for a walk.”
“All right. Call if you need anything.” She offered her a smile and then headed back to the office to see who this unnamed woman was that was waiting to meet with her.