Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“Scarlett won’t be a part of your case.” I look at him. “Ever.”
“Well, I can’t call my sons.” He shrugs. “So, you should at least consider it.”
“Scarlett,” I say, keeping my voice firm, “will not be a part of this. Period.”
“I should’ve told you about my daughter sooner.” He treats himself to a shot of scotch. “A lot sooner.”
“Why is that?”
“Because—” He shrugs. “Maybe you wouldn’t feel like she’s some type of casualty in all this. She’s as much to blame as me.”
“Then why aren’t the feds charging her?”
“They caught up with me a few years early.” He knocks back his drink. “If I’d had it my way, they would’ve caught me in seven years, and she’d be answering for everything. Not my sons.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand at full attention as I try to convince myself I’ve misheard him.
That there’s no way he’s even more diabolical than I already thought.
“You were going to—” I pause. “You would set up your own daughter to cover your own ass?”
“Ungrateful daughter,” he says. “Yes.”
“I need some air.” It’s all I can say.
“I’ll join you.”
“No.” I step back. “I need to be alone.”
“Oh, come on, Jameson.” He shrugs. “Don’t get all emotional on me now. You’re the one who always told me to have a backup plan for every backup plan.”
“I did tell you that,” I admit, but that’s not what I meant.
“Then don’t take too much time away,” he says. “I want to hear your current defense for the wire fraud. That’s the one they always win, so I need to hear some hope.”
“Right.” I head to the door, then stop and look over my shoulder.
“You really would’ve let her sit in a prison cell for things you’ve done, Lucas?” I ask. “You really mean that?”
“Why would she be any different from my sons when we don’t have as much of a relationship?” He looks dead-ass serious. “Think about it this way…Do you think your father would ever serve time for something you did?”
He already is.
JURY STRESS (N.):
A FORM OF MENTAL, EMOTIONAL, PSYCHOLOGICAL, PHYSICAL AND SEXUAL TENSION FOUND TO AFFECT JURIES IN LONG TRIALS DUE TO EXHAUSTION, SEQUESTRATION, THE MOUNTAIN OF EVIDENCE AND THE DESIRE TO DO THE RIGHT THING.
JAMESON
Three Days Later
I’ve ranked Lucas’s charges from hardest to easiest to defend and blocked off a separate room for each one at my firm.
Tonight, I’m circling the “Racketeering” room, studying all the evidence I’ve hung on the walls while the screens flicker with witness testimonies.
“My client may not be the most likable businessman, and his ethics may be somewhat questionable, but he’s not the monster the government is painting him to be.” I read the first draft of my opening statement aloud. “In fact, he’s not a monster at all…”
I set the pages down and let out a deep sigh.
The door across from me slowly opens, and Rachel steps inside.
“You’re back one day early,” I say. “Everything alright?”
“No.” Her face is ghost-pale. “Nothing is okay anymore.”
I pull out a chair for her, but she shakes her head.
“You know,” she says, looking around, “maybe you can just admit that Lucas is a monster and paint him as a friendlier kind. Go with the Godzilla versus Aliens defense.”
“That only works if we go for an insanity plea.”
“Try it, then,” she says. “It works for some murderers.”
“He’s still an alleged murderer, Rachel. Alleged.”
“No, he’s a real one.” She tosses a folder onto the desk. “A serial, bloodthirsty one at that.”
Silence.
“Go ahead and open it,” she says. “You sent me to find something on his estate, and I definitely found something.”
“So, there is an old well on the property?”
“No, there are three.”
I say nothing.
I just stare at the folder, leaving it untouched.
“Oh, no you don’t.” She strolls over to me, opens it herself, and shows me an aerial shot of Lucas’s massive estate. Three gray spots are circled in red.
“I, uh…” Her voice trembles. “I waited until nightfall to open the first one. I tried to slide my camera down to take pictures, but it didn’t get too far because it was full.”
I flip the page.
A stack of charred human remains fills the photograph.
“What the fuck?” I stare at the image in disbelief.
“That’s the oldest one,” she says, her voice still shaking. “The other two have some newer additions that are still decomposing, and the maggots are chomping away.”
I flip the page again and realize she’s being more than generous with her description.
“So much for no body, no crime, right?” she asks. “I counted at least fifteen between the wells, but I’m sure there are more. I just couldn’t stomach staying much longer.”
“Thank you, Rachel.” I shut the folder.
I counted at least twenty-six bodies, but I won’t tell her that.
And I won’t dare admit that everything Scarlett told me about him was true.
At least not now.