Stone Cold

Chapter Thirty-Four

Alex and Bonnie had breakfast together the next morning, a ritual reserved for weekends and holidays, not Monday mornings. They sipped coffee. It was all they could stomach.

“How long will the trial last?” Bonnie asked.

“Depends on how many witnesses Ortiz calls. He could stretch it into next week if he wants to.”

“Don’t you have a lot of witnesses too?”

“We’ve listed half a dozen, but it will depend on what Ortiz does.”

“Shouldn’t you have more witnesses? Just to balance out the prosecutor’s?”

Alex gave her a small smile. “It’s not like that. No one keeps score. It’s about what the witnesses say, not how many there are.”

“Oh,” Bonnie said, her brow wrinkled with worry.

Alex reached across the table and took her hand. “It’s going to be okay. Claire is a terrific lawyer.”

“You’re a terrific lawyer and you lose most of your cases.”

“That’s because most of my clients are guilty. I’m not. It was self-defense.”

Bonnie covered Alex’s hand and stroked her arm. “I know, but is being innocent enough? I’ve read so many stories about innocent people being convicted and going to jail for years and years before somebody digs up DNA evidence that proves they’re innocent.”

“This isn’t that kind of case.”

Bonnie sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I can’t even be there with you.”

“Witnesses aren’t allowed in the courtroom until they testify. After you’re done, you can stay.”

Bonnie bit her lip, her eyes watering. “This has been the worst six months of our lives.”

Alex got up and walked around the table, pulling Bonnie to her feet and wrapping her arms around her. Quincy wedged his way between them.

“And it will be over soon and everything will be back to normal. I promise.”

Bonnie eased back from their embrace so she could look at Alex.

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

The doorbell rang.

“My ride is here. Lou Mason is my body man until the trial is over.”

Alex opened the door, finding Mason standing between her and a horde of reporters, photographers, and cameramen crowded onto the front lawn. After the initial burst of publicity, the media had left her alone. Now that the trial was about to begin, they were back. Mason threw a protective arm around her waist, using the other to stiff-arm the press, both of them ignoring their shouted questions.

“Alex, what’s it like being the defendant?”

“Alex, where’d you learn to shoot?”

“Alex, why did you gun him down?”

“Alex, are you going to make a deal to avoid trial?”

Mason opened the front passenger door and she ducked her head, sliding onto the seat. He joined her, backing the car onto the street and leaving the pack behind.

“My God,” Alex said. “They’re like vultures.”

“Are you kidding? A lawyer kills her client. It’s usually the other way around. This is classic man-bites-dog stuff. No way they can lay off it. I’d have cut off my arm to defend you, but since I lost my law license, I have to settle for being your driver. By the way, that last question about making a deal-Claire can probably still make that happen.”

“No deals. No way.”

“Ortiz’s last offer was voluntary manslaughter with a recommendation of seven years.”

“Even if I were interested, he took it off the table when I turned it down.”

“That’s technically correct, but I know Patrick. I tried a lot of cases against him. He’s a reasonable guy and this isn’t a career case. When it’s over, he goes back to the classroom. It’s worth a shot trying to get it back on the table because it’s a good deal for someone charged with first-degree murder and armed criminal action. You’re facing life on the murder charge and however many hundreds of years West can tack on for armed criminal action.”

Alex swiveled toward him. “In the first place, I’m not guilty of voluntary manslaughter or anything else. In the second place, what happens when I get out? I can’t practice law. My girlfriend will be a distant memory. I’d have nothing.”

“Except for the rest of your life.”

“Is this supposed to be your pregame pep talk?”

“It’s the same conversation you’ve had with your clients. Pretend that I’m the client and you’re my lawyer and the facts are the same and tell me you wouldn’t recommend I take that deal.”

“It’s a lot easier to tell a client to do the time, but it’s a whole hell of a lot different when I’m talking about me.”

“Still, you’re taking a big chance. You like your odds that much?”

She’d thought of little else since the instant Dwayne Reed crumpled to the floor. She’d refused to make a deal because as long as the case came down to Odyessy Shelburne’s credibility and as long as she had Judge West in her corner, she was willing to take her chances with a jury. Though the judge had given her a steep hill to climb, she still clung to the hope that he wouldn’t abandon her, not after the deal they’d made.

All that had been brave talk until now, when she was en route to the courthouse. But she shouldn’t have been surprised that her resolve was weakening. It was what happened to most of her clients on the eve of trial. Bravado gave way to fear as they begged her to make a deal, any deal that would be better than a guilty verdict. Knowing that she was no different was humiliating and humbling. As afraid as she was of going to jail for seven years, she was terrified at the thought of dying in prison an old woman.

“You’re right. I would have the rest of my life. Make the deal.”

Mason called Claire, telling her what Alex had said, and hung up.

“She’s at the courthouse. She’ll try to catch Ortiz in the prosecutor’s office and work it out.”

“Thanks.”

“For what it’s worth, Claire said to tell you that you’re making the right decision.”

Alex didn’t answer, staring out the window as they drove down familiar streets to the courthouse, past her neighbors, past the coffee shop where she stopped every morning on her way to work, past the grocery where she stopped on the way home to pick up something for dinner, past the restaurant she and Bonnie went to so often they had their own table, and past the bar across the street they’d go to afterward to sip wine, listen to cool jazz, and hold hands. Past people, places, and things that were part of her. She pressed her hand against the window as if she could touch them one last time as they passed from view.

When they reached the courthouse, she was more at ease than she’d been in months. She had taken a man’s life, though not without reason. How could she not be held to account? Would it have been better if Dwayne had raped Bonnie and been caught and he was the one about to go on trial? The answer was easy. She’d done the right thing then and she was doing the right thing now.

Another media gauntlet greeted them, Mason shepherding her by them and into the courthouse. She emptied her pockets, passing through the metal detector, grateful when one of the deputies whispered, “Good luck.” They took the elevator to the fifth floor. Claire was waiting for them outside Judge West’s courtroom and motioned them into a witness room across the hall.

“Is it done?” Alex asked.

Claire shook her head, her face grim. “I’m sorry. Ortiz said the deal is off the table.”

“Why?” Mason asked. “What if she agreed to do ten years?”

“It isn’t the number of years. Patrick told me that there’d be no deal of any kind.”

“I don’t get it,” Mason said. “He offered the deal last week. What happened?”

“Whatever happened, it’s big enough to have his whole office buzzing. If I had a dollar for every smirk I saw, I’d be rich.”

Alex leaned against the wall, one hand on her belly, her insides jumping.

“What we do now?” she asked.

Claire squared her shoulders, looking Alex in the eye. “We go to war.”