Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
“They don’t let you anywhere near their case because of your friendship with me.”
“No, but even the press is reporting the DA buckled to election year and public pressure. There’s no DNA evidence. No witnesses. It’s a circumstantial case based on him knowing all of the victims. And, of course, they believed because of his limited financial resources, he’d end up with a public defender which is a crap shoot.”
“I’m a young lawyer. I’m sure they didn’t think I was much better.”
“You clerked for your father, who’s one of the top lawyers in the country. He’s well known for winning.”
“For being a shark,” I amend.
“Be that as it may, the DA’s office dreads seeing his name on a case file. Despite your tense relationship, it’s well known that you learned from him. You launched your career as his second chair. You became a fixture by his side, and that offers you credibility others at your young stage of career would not hold.”
And yet, I never once felt any pride emanating from that man, my father. It was more like he pressed me to deserve to be called his daughter, a reward I felt unachievable. This despite my desperate efforts to find one shred of affection in him.
But that didn’t exist, not even when I worked until I could barely stand. “He pushed me,” I confirm. “He beat me up with his demands, but it did create who I am today.”
“To that point,” Oliver continues, “the minute the DA’s office heard you took the case, they were in my office trying to convince me to tell them your weaknesses.”
I perk up at this admission. “You never told me that.”
“I’m telling you now.”
“And what, Oliver, did you call my weakness?”
“Macaroni and cheese. For real. They weren’t happy.”
I laugh. “Did you really?”
“Scout’s honor, and you know that matters. I really was a scout.” His tone turns serious again. “The only thing you have against you right now, Ember, is your client is a little creepy. You have to know that. The way he holds his hands in front of him all the time. It’s odd.”
“The psychologist I put on the stand said it was, quote, ‘a behavior that is a subconscious way of managing stress or anxiety,’ and the man is stressed. She also said that action offered him a physical anchor and a sense of control under duress.”
“But students said he does it all the time, not just during his trial. And he has no family. They died in a car accident, right?”
“Yes. Your point?”
“Maybe that fucked with him.”
“I thought you said I was going to win?” I demand, all kinds of indignant. I only wish he could witness the depths of my scowl right now.
“Oh, I one hundred percent believe you created reasonable doubt, and as long as the jury follows the rules of the court, they will find him not guilty.”
“But juries are unpredictable,” I supply, speaking what he’s left out to shelter me, though he’s doing a lousy job if that’s his intent. “Thank you for turning me into a ball of nerves. He’s a nice guy, Oliver. Devastated to be accused of such a thing and worried about finding the true killer. He celebrated when I hired a private detective to try to do just that. He cried in my office three times. Did I ever tell you that? Not once, Oliver, not twice, but three times.”
“I’m not the timid schoolteacher type he comes off as, but if I were charged with a half dozen murders, I’d cry, too. You win this case, you end up with a booming legal practice, but he’s still the guy the DA thought killed all those women.”
“I know,” I breathe out. “Believe me, I know. I encouraged him to consider a new name and a new life, but then how does he keep his work history?”
“Okay, this is not the conversation I meant to have when I called. If you win, and I believe you will, let him revel in freedom for a bit, and then he can deal with the future. And you, you need to revel in your win, just the same. Which is why we’re doing this tonight. Pizza, chocolate, and booze—your place. We’re doing it. That’s not a question. See you at seven. And we’re talking about Christmas plans, too. I know your parents jet off for an exotic holiday every year, and you’re used to it, but you had your grandfather then. He’s gone now.”
And there it is. The reason my parents’ typical coldness is bothering me this year. My grandfather’s countering warmth is gone. He wasn’t even my real grandfather. He and his wife, who passed before my time, adopted my mother, and yet, he felt more like family than anyone else in my life.
“You can come with me to my parents’ place,” Oliver offers.