“You’re sure about that? Because you’re taking a hell of a chance, not just on the drug charge, but if they can put the murders on you, the jury will give you the needle.”
He closed his eyes as if realizing that he had almost lost it, reining himself in, then opening his eyes, quieter and in control again.
“I like my chances wit’ you. Anyway.” He shrugged. “I got somethin’ I got to take care of.”
“What’s so important that you’d risk the death penalty?”
He gave her a half smile with his lips pressed tight together, his eyes hard, sending shivers through her. Cool Dwayne was as frightening as Exploding Dwayne, leaving her afraid of his answer.
“I promised a friend of mine I’d pay her a visit when she get home. Can’t keep my promise if I’m sittin’ in jail, and I always keep my promises, you feel me?”
Alex shuddered, fighting to keep her composure. She couldn’t ask whom he’d promised to visit without risking that he’d find out about her relationship with Bonnie, but she could ask another question that was just as important, breaking her rule again.
“Did you kill those people-the Hendersons and Kyrie Chapman?”
Dwayne cocked his head at her, the corners of his mouth curling into a cruel mask.
“Don’t matter, not if you my lawyer, do it?”
Deputy Paulson opened the door before she could answer. “Time’s up. You finished?”
“We finished,” Dwayne said and followed him out the door.
Alone in the cramped room, she could smell Dwayne’s raw scent. She closed her eyes, and it was strong enough to make her feel like he was standing next to her. He’d gotten inside her head and under her skin, infecting her with fear. Certain that his promise was the one he’d made to Bonnie, she sent a text to Bradshaw.
She sent another text, this one to Bonnie, asking her to call as soon as she could. She had to tell Bonnie what was going on, but she wasn’t certain how to say it, except she knew she couldn’t tell her in a text because Bonnie would freak out. Life in the ER could swing from slow to crazy in an instant. If nothing was going on, Bonnie would respond right away. If they were slammed, it could be hours.
She took a lap around the weathered wooden table, her fingers trailing across the surface, past carved initials and cigarette burns, past gouge marks and water stains. How many lawyers, she wondered, had sat at this table wrestling with a difficult case, weighing the merits of one decision or another? How many of them had made a choice that pushed them past the ethical canons, either justifying their breach by claiming a righteous purpose or merely surrendering to a baser impulse?
And what happened to them? Did it all work out? Did the client get what she needed, wanted, or deserved? Was anyone but the lawyer the wiser? And could such a thing ever truly work out as long as the lawyer had a conscience?
She knew one thing for certain. Bonnie would kill Dwayne Reed to protect her. It was time to find out what she would do to save Bonnie.
Chapter Nineteen
Every case had problems. Alex knew that. If the facts were bad, she focused on the law. If the law was unfavorable, she focused on the facts. If both were against her, she’d make the best deal she could. That was life in the criminal justice system. Sometimes justice was blind and other times it was a sausage grinder churning out imperfect solutions to impossible problems.
But she’d never had a case with a problem like this. There was no point in going to the law library to research similar cases. There wouldn’t be any. She couldn’t ask her boss, Robin Norris, for advice because Robin would pull her off Dwayne’s case in a heartbeat and she’d lose whatever leverage she had to influence the outcome. And she couldn’t have a come-to-Jesus meeting with her client to convince him to do the right thing because that wasn’t in Dwayne’s DNA.
She needed someone to talk to, someone who’d rummage around in the dark corners of her problem and dig out a solution. There was one person she thought she could ask for help: Judge West.
Though he hadn’t come right out and urged her to cross the line in her defense of hard-core criminals, he’d implied as much. If she was right about his intent, he might show her a way out of the wilderness. If she was wrong, she’d be more lost than she already was, if that was possible.
Judge West was on the bench when she walked into his courtroom. Two lawyers were arguing a motion over admissibility of evidence in an upcoming trial. He was leaning back in his chair, eyes half closed, as the lawyers droned on. She approached the rail separating the judge and lawyers from the pews, not taking a seat, waiting for him to notice her. When he did, he sat up, interrupting the lawyer who was talking.
“Thank you, Counsel. I’ll take the matter under advisement.”
“But, Your Honor,” the lawyer said. “I haven’t finished my argument.”
“That is where you and I differ, Counsel. We’re adjourned.”
He banged his gavel, rose, and looked at Alex, cocking his head toward the door to his chambers. Alex nodded, passing the lawyers without making eye contact as they packed their briefcases.
Seated behind his desk, Judge West opened a drawer, retrieving his bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses.
“No, thanks, Judge. Too early in the day for me,” Alex said, standing behind one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“The way you came in my courtroom looking like Little Girl Lost, I figured a drink was exactly what you needed. Especially after what happened over the weekend. I have to say when I saw the news that I wasn’t surprised. Then again, I’m guessing you weren’t either. Must have been tough walking in on those bodies.”
“Very tough, Your Honor. Beyond tough, in fact.”
He studied her for a moment as she gripped the back of the chair, her knuckles turning white, her face flushed and her belly churning, pretending that it was the most natural thing in the world to be standing in his chambers deciding whether to take the first step down a path from which she’d never be able to turn back.
“Yes, I see that. Well, if you won’t have a drink, at least have a seat and tell me why you’re here.”
Alex nodded, loosened her grip, and eased into the chair. She looked at her hands like she didn’t recognize them and had no idea what to do with them, at last dropping them in her lap. She had the same uncertainty about what to do next, knowing that whatever she said could not be unsaid and that whatever she did would be forever done.
She considered how she had arrived at this moment, comparing herself to her clients. There was no mystery in how they found their way into trouble. Most of them saw crime as a logical, inescapable career choice. Being born was their first step.
She thought about those who were born into better circumstances, growing up privileged and powerful, having it all, only to fall from grace. What, she wondered, had the moment been like when they took their first step toward ruin? Did they recognize it for what it was? What rationalization clouded their vision, or did they rationalize at all, instead leaping into the abyss buoyed by certain invulnerability or encouraged by a conviction of entitlement? Or were they driven by a suspicion that they were unworthy of their station in life, secretly hoping to be caught?
Perhaps she had stepped onto this path that first day of law school when she and Tommy Bradshaw had fought over the meaning of justice. Or maybe her descent began the moment she realized she couldn’t live without Bonnie.
There was no way to know for certain, and it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the next words out of her mouth. She took a deep breath and looked Judge West square in the eye.
“I need your advice. Off the record.”
He poured himself a drink, sipped, and cradled the glass in both hands.
“If I can help you, I will. Off the record.”
“And if you can’t?”
