Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
He dumped the pile of scattered papers and smooshed sandwich on the table in front of me, then held out his hand. “Ms. Hastings, my name is Barry Finkle, and I will be representing you in this matter.”
I awkwardly lifted my handcuffed wrists to shake his hand, grimacing when he squeezed my fingers too tight in his sweaty grasp.
The judge cleared his throat. “Mr. Finkle, if you are ready to proceed.”
Barry adjusted his coffee-stained tie. “Could I request another reading of the charges, Your Honor?”
I closed my eyes. It had been hard enough hearing it once.
The judge motioned to Gail who called out a second time, “Docket Number CR26246014-01, the People of the State of Virginia versus Madison Hastings. Charge is murder in the first degree, murder in the second degree, and vehicular involuntary manslaughter.”
Barry’s eyes widened. “Murder!”
I swung my head in his direction.
He slapped his hand over his mouth. “Sorry.”
He then turned to me and, loudly enough for everyone around us to hear, stage-whispered, “You’re charged with murder?”
My brow furrowed. “As my assigned attorney, aren’t you supposed to already know that?”
He waved his hand between us. “Sorry. Sorry. I just got excited. This is my first murder case.”
I blinked several times as my fingernails carved crescents into my palms.
Did they have the death penalty in Virginia?
The man at the table across from ours spoke up. “Commonwealth’s Attorney John Davis for the prosecution, Your Honor.”
The judge sighed, as if already bored with my case. “How does the defendant plead?”
Barry leaned in. “How do you plead?”
I said in a rush, “Not guilty.” Then I turned my attention to the judge and said louder, “I’m not guilty, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded and scribbled something on the paper in front of him. “People on bail?” The CA spoke again. “Your Honor, the People’s case is very strong. We have video taken right before the crash in question which clearly shows the defendant driving the vehicle—”
I cried out, “That’s a lie! That’s a fucking lie! I wasn’t driving and you know it!”
The judge banged his gavel so hard and so many times the top snapped off, tumbled to the floor, and rolled under the clerk’s desk. Flustered, the judge straightened his glasses. “Young lady, one more outburst like that and I will have you removed. I don’t want to have to tell you again to only speak through your attorney. Mr. Finkle, control your client!”
I lowered my head and murmured, “Sorry, Your Honor.”
The CA cleared his throat. “As I was saying, Your Honor, the People have a strong case. The defendant is new to Cliffs End with no strong ties to the community. People ask for the defendant to be remanded.”
Remanded? Wait.
Didn’t that mean they were going to keep me in jail with no bail?
Desperate, I leaned over and whispered to Barry, “That’s not true. I have ties to the community. I have a bookshop and friends.”
Barry waved me off.
The judge turned to my attorney. “Mr. Finkle, any objections?”
Barry shrugged. “I got nothing, Your Honor. Sounds reasonable to me.”
The CA continued. “We would also request a speedy trial. There is no reason to waste the Court’s time with this one.”
The judge again looked at my attorney. Barry piped up, “No objection.”
I glowered at Barry. “Aren’t you going to object to any of this?”
He shrugged again. “They have video. Can’t argue against video. Your best hope is for a plea deal as a first offender, maybe you’ll only get fifteen years.”
Only fifteen years?
The judge went to bang his gavel and huffed. He pounded his fist instead. “Defendant is remanded until trial. Speak to my clerk about a trial date. Next case.”
A female bailiff wrapped her hand around my upper arm and dragged me away. I dug my heels in. “Wait! No. What just happened? I’m innocent.” I turned pleading eyes to Barry. “You can’t let them take me away.”
He didn’t even bother to look up from where he was hastily shoving papers into his briefcase. “That’s what they all say. I’ll visit you tomorrow to go over your plea.”
The bailiff pulled me toward a set of double doors, behind which prisoners waited for transport to the local prison. I desperately looked over the crowd of strangers for someone, anyone, who could save me.
And that was when I saw him.
Pierce Worthington.
He leaned casually against the wall in the back of the courtroom as if he were watching a tennis match and not my entire life going down the drain.
His unfeeling eyes captured my gaze.
He was responsible for this, for all of this.
Somehow, some way, I was going to make him pay.
CHAPTER 7
PIERCE
Apair of ice-cold hands closed over my eyes, sharpened nail points digging into the bridge of my nose.
I’d been sitting in the dark of my study for over an hour, nursing a whiskey and failing to outrun the memory of a pair of sapphire eyes misted over with tears of betrayal and fear.