He hustled out of the chair and threw the door open. “Mary, I’m just bullshitting you. Trying to push your buttons. Got to go now! Thanks for receiving me in your sanctum sanctorum.”
I watched him run past Luna’s desk. After the door shut behind him, I muttered, “We’ve had a reckoning coming for a long while. You’d best stay out of my sights, Winston.”
My heart was so bitter, I could feel it burning inside my chest.
CHAPTER
34
Bria Gaines
UNION SPRINGS, ALABAMA
Bria read through the final page of the police report. Turned it upside down on top of a stack of documents resting on a rickety metal desk. She was sitting in an office Ben Meyers was renting, a small space in a mostly deserted strip center on the outskirts of Union Springs.
When Bria looked up, Meyers was watching her. “You made it through? Read all the way to the end?”
“Of course I did.” Bria rubbed her eyes. She’d been reviewing police and medical reports through most of the afternoon.
“You buzzed through that file pretty fast. That’s all.” Meyers picked up the stack of paper and slid it into a folder. “I don’t want you to miss anything that might make a difference to our defense.”
“I’ve read that file so many times I could quote it back to youchapter and verse. Do you actually think I’d ignore the evidence against me? I’m not an idiot.”
Meyers looked down. “Did I imply that? If I did, I apologize.” He flashed a smile at her.
The man had a dangerous amount of charm. Bria knew it would be useful at trial, but she’d put up a wall against it. Getting a schoolgirl crush on her defense attorney would lead nowhere good.
She stood up, eager for a break from the unforgiving office chair. A coffee maker sat on a plastic table in a corner of the room. The pot held a scant inch of inky brew. Bria stepped over, poured it into a mug. She made a face.
“Sorry,” said Meyers, “that’s from this morning. Should I make a fresh pot?”
“Wouldn’t hurt. I think this might have solidified.”
Meyers walked over to the corner and pulled out a bag of Peet’s.
“How come you haven’t joined the coffee pod cult?” asked Bria.
“I like making coffee,” said Meyers. “It’s one of the few domestic skills that I’ve mastered.” He measured the coffee into the basket and set the control to Brew, then leaned back against the counter. “So what do you think of Nova’s story?”
Bria shook her head. “Tragic. Heartbreaking. I know I’m the one on trial, but you and I both know what’s criminal about this whole thing—the fact that the law requires a child to bear a child.” She leaned against the sink. “You want to know why I became a doctor?”
“I do. And if you’re about to tell me that there was a time in your life when you had to terminate a pregnancy of your own, I absolutely understand. I’d never judge you.”
Bria blinked. Meyers was being a little too presumptive. And way too personal. She decided to ignore it. Maybe it was just his way of saying he was on her side. She took a beat and plunged ahead.
“I grew up in Alabama. Working class, seven kids. I was numbersix. Churchgoing family. My mama and daddy tithed. Ten percent of their gross income—not net!—went into the collection plate. Didn’t matter what we needed. The car broke down, shoes had holes, no difference. The church came first.”
Meyers nodded. “I knew a lot of families like that growing up.”
Bria went on. “My folks didn’t have medical insurance. If we got sick, we had to suck it up. Don’t make a fuss.”
She took a deep breath. These were painful memories.
“I liked boys, but I was careful. Because I’d seen what could happen. My sister Bailey, three years older than me, she got pregnant in high school. Fifteen years old. Carried to term. Begged to keep her baby. Of course, that couldn’t happen. And, oh, my Lord! You should have seen all those fine Christian friends of ours turn their backs on her.”
“Is she okay now?” asked Meyers.
“She’s alive. She functions in the world. But what happened back then did something to her, messed her life up, and she never really got it back. That’s why I went to med school. I wanted to be on the side of young women. Especially poor women. No matter what their circumstances.”
