Bria liked him a little better for that. But not enough to lift the latch on the screen door that kept him out of her house.
He said, “Dr. Gaines, I came over here today because I want to represent you.”
“No, thanks.” Bria backed away a step and started to swing the front door shut. “I already have a lawyer.”
“I know—Chuck Rich. I just came from his office.”
She hadn’t expected that. Maybe it was why she didn’t slam the door in his face.
“We had a long conversation, a good talk. In fact, Chuck encouraged me to come by. Gave me your home address. He thought I should introduce myself.”
That sent Bria’s anxiety into overdrive. What was Chuck thinking, sending people to her front door? She was going to let him know exactly what she thought about having a lawyer who made free with her personal information.
And then Benjamin Meyers put a hand on the frame of her screen door, like he thought she was about to invite him inside her house. She was determined to disabuse him of that notion.
She was curt. “I don’t know you, and I’m not in the market for a defense attorney. Chuck is a friend of mine. I trust him.”
Benjamin Meyers dropped the cheesy grin. His face was somber as he said, “Do you trust that lawyer with your life, Dr. Gaines?”
Bria didn’t have an easy answer for that.
“You understand that if the jury finds you guilty, they can send you to prison for the rest of your life?”
Bria nodded slowly.
“Well, you’re looking at the man who can get you off.”
CHAPTER
23
Mary Stone
STONE FAMILY FARM BULLOCK COUNTY, ALABAMA
I heard the rumble of the pickup truck before the vehicle came into view, ground to a stop. Then I heard the voice of the driver.
“I hope you know, Mary, nobody but you would have the gall to drag me out here before sunrise.”
That was probably true.
“Morning, Troy.”
A man dressed in tan coveralls opened the driver’s door and hopped out near my front porch, where I’d been pacing the wooden floorboards, waiting.
“You got a flashlight?” he muttered. “Can’t see my hand in front of my face. Sun’s not even up yet.”
So much for pleasantries. I held up my work lantern and flipped it on.
Troy winced and covered his eyes. “Damn it, Mary! You trying to blind me now?”
I aimed the beam at the gravel under our feet. “Quit griping, you big baby. You should be used to strange hours by now.”
Dr. Troy Nelson had been serving Bullock County as a veterinarian for about as long as I’d been in the law. He’d grown up on a farm just down the road. We went through school together, not always that friendly. But we’d shared a similar path. A couple of Black farm kids determined to get into college and break into a profession.
I turned in my rubber boots to head for the barn and he fell into step beside me.
“Thanks for coming out,” I said. “I know it’s early in the day for a prenatal visit.”
