“That’s a standard practice, Miss Vercetti,” Judge Maroni said, pushing his glasses further up on his nose. “It would be hard for the jury to see the texts from the gallery.”
“I’m aware, Your Honor, but we’re deciding a man’s fate here. Shouldn’t we be thorough?”
Judge Maroni’s jaw worked silently. “Sustained. Prosecution will allow the jury to peruse these text messages up close and personal.”
“I can’t just hand over evidence,” Miller sputtered.
“You can and you will,” Maroni said flatly.
Miller sighed and pushed the power button. The phone lit up to its loading screen, then the time and date flashed on the screen.
Miller scrolled through the phone and I tried to hide my smile. His face paled, jaw going slack as he saw what I already knew: the phone had been wiped clean.
“Problems, Mr. Prosecutor?” I asked.
“No problem,” he said. “This phone doesn’t appear to be working, but I have a backup.”
Miller motioned for a man at his table to come and assist. Using a specialized tool, he opened up the smartphone.
“We backed up the phone’s data in case of this sort of eventuality,” Miller said smoothly. “Now we’ll just pop the SIM card into our brand new, unused smartphone and the jury will see…”
Miller’s eyes narrowed. He looked over at me, gaze lancing out pure venom.
“Mr. Miller?” Judge Maroni prompted.
“I—I’m sorry, Your Honor,” he said. “The SIM card appears to be missing.”
Now was my chance to strike.
I stood up smoothly. “Your Honor, in light of the lack of any real physical evidence linking my client to this gruesome crime, I humbly request a dismissal of the charges against him.”
“It was here!” Miller stammered. “It was right here! The evidence has been tampered with.”
Maroni sighed. “Mr. Miller, I appreciate your dilemma, but the facts remain the facts. If you should happen to find out where you misplaced the SIM card in question, your office may file charges against Mr. Wayne in the future. For now, I’m dismissing the charges.”
“You can’t do this,” Miller sputtered. He turned to point at me. “It’s her. Every time Sophie Vercetti steps into a courtroom there’s some type of… of… shenanigans.”
“Those are serious accusations, Mr. Miller. Do you have any evidence to back them up?”
“No, but—”
“Then I suggest you calm down before I find you in contempt. The charge of murder in the first degree against Mr. Wayne is hereby dismissed.”
The judge banged his gavel and Wayne let out a little whoop that made the courtroom chuckle. Except for the DA’s table, of course.
“I don’t know how you pulled this off,” Miller hissed. “But I swear to God I’m going to find out. Your days are numbered, Vercetti!”
I just smiled at him. At that moment, the SIM card in question sat in a hidden compartment of my desk back in my law office. I’d bribed Miller’s own tech expert, the one who’d opened the phone, into providing it to me.
All I had to do was give him what he wanted: the address of his crazy ex-girlfriend, who had absconded with their infant daughter and fled to a state without an extradition agreement with New York.
I guess it was underhanded. I mean, my client was guilty as hell and we all knew it. But there was no proof he was, and that was all that mattered.
I’d won, again.
Like always.
Chapter Four
Sophie
I strolled into my office with a familiar post-dismissal high, Indian food in one hand and my heels in the other. Acquittals are great, but there’s nothing like the look on the prosecuting attorney’s face when a judge throws out the evidence. And it’s even better when it’s Eddie Miller. It was so easy to get a rise out of him, especially after I refused a coffee date a few months back. Ever since then, he couldn’t help turning beat red at the first sight of me in court.
“I love having the upper hand,” I said as I walked in to see my receptionist, Katie, still hard at work. After a string of incompetent office temps at my old firm, Katie as a dream. And I paid her enough to keep her that way.
“Sounds like it went well?”
“Marconi dismissed the charges.”
“Another guilty one goes free,” Katie laughed, accepting the Styrofoam container of food I handed her.
“Don’t tell me it’s bothering you,” I said. “I made it clear when I hired you: I’m in this business to win.”
“It’s what I love about you!” Katie assured me. “If you have a hunch you can win, you take the case. It doesn’t matter what they did.”
“It’s not just the hunch,” I said, making my way into my office. “It’s the size of the check they can write me, too!”
I tossed my dinner onto my desk and popped into my chair, letting the victory wash over me. My client, Dilbert, had looked so grateful when we walked out of the courthouse I thought he might kiss me. Give it another six months, maybe eight, and Dilbert Wayne would be in my waiting room again. A guy like that could only stay out of trouble for so long.
Should I care more? I wondered as I dropped my heels below my desk and stretched out the arches of my feet. I’ve seen just how fucked up the legal system is. Hundreds of innocent people go to jail every day. And how many guilty ones get off even when they don’t have kick ass lawyers? I’m just another cog in the justice machine.
Besides, the guilty ones are always the most interesting.
“We should go over the schedule for tomorrow,” I called out to Katie through the open door as I opened the lid of my biryani.
Before Katie could respond, the front door opened and Eddie Miller, the prosecuting attorney from this morning, burst in.
“Where is she?” he asked.
“Excuse me,” Katie said as she stood. “Do you have an appointment?”
Eddie looked through the open door of my office and glared at me.
“What you did in court today? That was bullshit.”
I didn’t move and just gave
