“What do you mean, I have to wait for a ruling?” Briley yells into the phone. “My client’s life is in imminent danger. Do you know what imminent means?”
She glances at Timothy, whose face is tense and drawn behind the wheel. After following her to the law office, where he waited patiently while she looked up the proper procedures to type out a motion, he offered to drive her to the courthouse.
Apparently he realized she’s frantic enough to be a real danger on the slick streets.
“All right,” she snaps at a clerk in the Division Four superintendent’s office. “I get it. I have the motion and I’m on my way to file it, but I’d appreciate it if you could send someone to check on my client. As soon as I see the judge, I’m heading over to the jail.”
“Arrgh!” Briley closes Timothy’s phone and drops it into the well between the front seats. “Bureaucracy! Can’t anyone make exceptions in dire situations?”
His cheek curves in a smile. “Wait a minute—is this Ms. Don’t-Get-Personally-Involved talking? I thought well-run cases never resulted in dire situations.”
“Hush up and drive, will you?” She crosses her arms and stares out the window, reluctantly admitting that Timothy is right. Nothing about this case has unfolded as she expected, but perhaps capital cases are the exception to every rule. After all, when a client’s life is at stake, how can a defense attorney help getting personally involved?
But this has become more than a case, and Erin more than a client.
“Talk to me,” Timothy says, deftly handling the vehicle as they drive through a decaying neighborhood with boarded-up buildings and graffiti-splashed walls. The light rain has turned to sleet, which bounces off the windshield as they make their way through puddled potholes. He brakes as a mangy-looking pit bull darts into the street, then stops and stares at him, its muzzle quivering with the ghost of a growl. “What’d they tell you?”
Briley stares, amazed that the dog would challenge a car, until the animal backs down and trots away. “I have to file a motion for protective custody.” She speaks through her nose, mimicking the clerk. “After I get in to see the judge on duty, I have to wait for a ruling. Then, assuming the ruling is favorable, I have to go down to the jail and present the ruling to the superintendent of Division Four.”
“In the meantime, did you ask them to check on your client?”
“Of course, but they automatically assured me everything would be fine. The clerk said the women in Erin’s cell block are locked down for the night.”
“Isn’t that good news? Erin’s surrounded by guards, Bri. If she can’t get out, it’s unlikely that bad guys can get in, right?”
“I’ve begun to believe in the unlikely.” Briley closes her eyes as a few fat flakes of snow flutter in front of the headlights. She wants to believe Timothy. She wants to blame her worries on an overactive imagination and a few unfortunate coincidences, but she can’t forget William’s restless manner and odd questions at lunch.
Isn’t it better to err on the side of caution?
“You don’t know Tomassi,” she says. “I do, and I don’t trust him. I’m beginning to think the man is capable of anything.”
Timothy chuckles. “I’ve never seen this side of you, but I always knew it was there.”
“What side? You’re not seeing a side.”
“I’m seeing the real you—a determined lawyer, devoted friend. The kind of woman who will take a few risks for someone who needs help.”
“Just hurry, will you? I’ve a bad feeling about all this…and I can’t shake it.”
With the judge’s ruling in hand, Briley leaps out of the car and hurries toward the entrance to Division Four. Leaving Timothy to park the car, she enters and pounds on the unattended security desk. A matronly security guard appears in a doorway and waddles forward, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Seeing Briley, she flashes a brow. “Can I help you?”
“I have a ruling from Judge Abrams,” Briley says, fumbling in her purse for her ID, “and I need to speak to the superintendent as soon as possible.”
A half smile crosses the woman’s face. “The super’s done gone home. You can call her in the morning.”
“Look.” Briley waves her ID card before the guard’s narrow eyes, then presses both hands flat against the counter. “I don’t know if you understand the meaning of emergency, but that’s what we have here, a genuine emergency. I need to talk to the super—so whether you have to call her, fetch her, or ship her in from Timbuktu, do it.”
A warning cloud settles on the woman’s features. “Now, you look. There ain’t a thing the super can do for you tonight, and this place is locked down tight. So you can come back in the morning, Miss Lawyer.”
The door behind Briley opens, admitting Timothy and a breath of freezing wind. The guard looks at him and frowns. “Let me guess—you’re with Ms. Bossy here, and you want me to call my supervisor.”
He slides his hands into his pockets. “I’m more of an innocent bystander. But if I step outside and discover that my rims are missing, I might want to talk to somebody.”
Her brows knit in irritation. “And why are you talking to me like that? I can’t control what happens outside this place—”
“Please,” Briley interrupts, ashamed to hear her voice wavering. “Let’s cut the tough acts and just talk, okay? Listen, I’m worried about my client, Erin Tomassi. Will you please send someone to check on her? Or put her in solitary for the night. I have a ruling from the judge, and trust me, this ruling wasn’t easy to get.”
The guard shakes her head and leans forward, but before she can launch into another tirade the desk phone rings. The woman glares at the instrument, then rolls her eyes and picks it up. “Front desk.”
With a frustrated groan, Briley turns to Timothy. “I don’t know what else to do.”
He drops his hands to her shoulders. “Are you sure Erin’s in danger? After all, in a few hours she’ll be back at the courthouse, sitting right next to you—”
“The trial should end tomorrow,” Briley says. “And though I don’t know how long the jury will deliberate, she could be free by tomorrow night. If Tomassi wants to hurt her, he’ll never have it this easy again.”
She glances at the security guard, who has pressed her lips into a thin line and is murmuring into the phone. Since the guard shows no sign of answering her request, Briley props her arms on the counter and prepares to wait the woman out.
The guard hangs up the phone and scribbles something on a notepad. “I’ve got a real emergency on my hands,” she says, not looking at Briley. “So I’m not wasting any more time with you. You can just bring your papers back in the morning.”
“I’m not leaving,” Briley says, “until I can guarantee my client’s safety.”
“Then I hope you’re wearing comfortable shoes, ’cause you’re gonna be standing there a long time.”
The guard looks toward the door as a siren whines in the night, a sound that quickens Briley’s pulse.
The woman picks up a radio, says something about opening a service gate, and steps toward the computer. Briley turns toward the door and sees the strobelike play of red-and-white lights on the low-hanging clouds. A mechanical gate opens, and an emergency vehicle crawls through the entry.
An icy finger touches the base of her spine.
“What happened?” She curls her hand into a fist. “Why did someone call an ambulance?”
“An accident.” The guard turns, but when her gaze meets Briley’s, a change creeps over her features, a sudden shock of realization. “The night guard found an inmate,” she says, her face settling into a no-comment mask. “I can’t say more until after the investigation.”
“Is this inmate…?” Briley hesitates.
“Expired,” the guard answers, her voice clotting with an emotion that might be guilt. “The woman they found is dead.”