“That’s bullshit, and you know it. He’s just trying to force your hand.”
I swiped at the tears on my cheeks. “Yeah, well, it’s working. I’m facing fifteen years to life, Hailey.”
She flattened her palm against the grimy glass. “Don’t give in. We’ll fight this.”
“How? How are we going to fight this?”
The guard on my side of the barrier shuffled forward, a scowl marring her brow. I raised my hand in supplication, then continued. “I have no money and the world’s worst attorney. They have video and the Worthington fortune.”
Hailey leaned in and whispered into the receiver, “You really think Jameson’s brother is behind all this?”
I pressed closer to the glass on my side. “He was in the courtroom at my arraignment.”
“Of course he was. They were charging the person he blames for his brother’s death.” She shrugged. “It makes sense he’d be in court but?—”
“And at my bookshop, the very moment I got arrested?” I pushed.
“The guy’s got connections. He probably got tipped off by the CA or the arresting officer, but to say that he somehow arranged to have you charged with murder? Madison, that’s just crazy.”
“Why? Why is it crazy? He’s rich. Rich people get special privileges all the time.”
Hailey’s eyes widened. “Yeah, they get to cheat on their taxes and cut the line in front of us meager commoners, but you’re talking about framing an innocent person for murder. That doesn’t happen in real life. You’ve read too many mystery novels.”
I shook my head. “I’m telling you. It’s him. Pierce Worthington is behind all of this.”
“Why?”
I forced the word out through my teeth. “Revenge.”
I thought back to the time in my bookshop right before the cops dragged me away, and my plea to him.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because I can...and because someone has to pay for what happened.”
Pierce made it clear that day. He blamed me for his brother’s death. Was it really that hard to believe he would then use his power and money to frame me for murder?
“Sweetie, I’m worried about you. None of this makes sense. You seriously think Pierce Worthington actually forced the CA to bring charges against you?”
My lips thinned as I cast a cautious glance over my shoulder. “Yes.”
“Do you think he’s behind the video, too?”
Again, I nodded, strangely afraid to say it out loud.
I closed my eyes.
The nightmare had been the same almost every night since the crash. The stench of gasoline and blood. The shrieking sound of twisted metal as the Jaws of Life clamped down on the passenger door, shattered pellets of glass raining down on me. A sea of faces obscured by heavy firefighter helmets, their voices muffled by masks as they shouted commands to each other, telling me over and over that everything was going to be okay.
Every night, they freed me from the passenger side, just like in real life.
Until last night.
Last night, the same dream, but this time, as my mind’s eye looked down, my hands were gripping the steering wheel.
I was the one driving.
Still, the dream ended the same way it had since the funeral, with Pierce Worthington’s glowering eyes staring down at me.
