“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”
There’s something about his tone that draws my full attention. “And why is that?”
He clears his throat. “I know what you’re going to say, but I need you to reconsider.”
I’m shaking my head even though he can’t see me. “Goddamnit. Not you too. What the fuck is wrong with you idiots?”
I already have a group of friends who run a security company in town and conveniently ignore that I no longer practice criminal law, expecting me to fix all their legal troubles.
“Chris, hear me out.”
I inhale and count to five, then exhale and count to five. I think I heard that it’s supposed to be a calming technique, but hell, if it’s ever worked for me. Through gritted teeth, I say, “Fine, make it quick.”
He rushes out, “I will, I promise. So there’s this woman?—”
“Carlos, if you’re about to call me because the chick you’re fucking broke the law and you can’t keep dating her because you’re a cop, the answer is no.”
“Will you shut the fuck up and listen?”
When I grunt an agreement, he continues.
“And no, this isn’t a chick I’m dating. Mainly because I’m holding out for Mandi to break up with that idiot she’s dating.”
Despite my annoyance, I smile. As Mandi’s self-appointed big brother, Carlos is exactly who I would want for her, even if it grosses me out when she talks about him like that. I’ll definitely be giving her his number later today.
“It’s someone who was taken in for questioning for the murder of her husband.”
I slip on my reading glasses and go back to sorting through the files on my desk, growing less interested in the conversation. “Condolences for the loss of her husband,” I mutter.
Carlos lets out an annoyed noise. “Chris, her husbandwasn’t a good guy. Not a lot of people know this, but I was investigating him for multiple things when he died. He was involved in some bad shit.”
Dropping the file I’m holding onto my desk, I remove my glasses, dropping them on top of the papers. I spin my chair to stare out the window, the breeze fluttering the leaves of the tree right outside.
“She needs you. I don’t think she did it. I don’t want to see her go to jail for something she didn’t do. And if she did do it, he deserved it, and you need to get her the lightest sentence possible.”
“I’m not a defense attorney anymore,” I counter. The words come out as an automatic response, triggered by the mere mention of my past life.
“I know. And I get why. But this lady is not him. That case was different.”
My heart races, and I practically whisper into the phone when I say, “Carlos, you don’t know that.”
A sigh hits my ear. “I do, and I don’t, so I guess you’re partly right. But I wouldn’t have called you for any old case. There’s just something about this one that doesn’t sit right with me.”
With my stare fixed on the leaves, I don’t reply.
“He beat her, Chris.”
My eyes snap shut. “Fuck,” I mutter.
“Give it some thought. Please. I’m asking. As a friend. Her name is Lily Bennett. Two detectives just left with her. They took her down to the station to question her.”
He tells me which precinct they went to and disconnects the call, and I let my hand drop to my thigh. Slapping my phone lightly against my leg, my mind races.
Could I do this? Could I step back into the courtroom tofight for an, according to Carlos, innocent person’s life, knowing I could fail again?
It’s not like I hadn’t lost cases before, because I had. But let’s be honest, most people who hired me were guilty as hell and were just hoping for a Hail Mary pass that would get them off completely, or at the very least, the lowest sentence possible.
I’m sure I had other innocent clients. I never really asked because it wasn’t my job to care at that point. My job was to represent them in court to the best of my abilities.
