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She laughed and faced forward again, and I noticed a small tattoo behind her ear. I’d assumed it was a beauty mark before, but it was a tiny drama mask and an entwined legal scale.
“Me and my sister got these together one summer,” she said. “It was her idea.”
“Where is she now?”
She looked away, pulling off as the light turned green.
I clasped her hand behind the gearshift and watched a stray tear roll past her cheek.
After parking in front of her condo, she pulled a binder from her purse and handed it to me.
“Mr. Hamilton brought this up to me again, so I found a pro bono case you can handle,” she said. “You could probably do this in your sleep.”
The irony…I flipped through the files.
It was an assault case, and the crime scene photos—bloodied floors, shredded sheets on a stage, and a jammed revolver—were far worse than anything she’d witnessed with me.
This isn’t even a New York case…
The trial ended in a conviction, butThe Innocence Projectwas currently researching it.
I made a mental note to tell Andrew I was more than capable of picking my own pro bono case, but I played along with Elizabeth.
“Okay, Elizabeth,” I said. “Why should we help this guy for free?”
“Because after looking through everything, I don’t think he did it.”
“You need to give me a better reason than that.”
“Okay. Iknowhe didn’t do it.” She shrugged. “Is that better?”
“No.”
“Just consider it.” She smiled and opened the car door. “I’ll be ready to meet with our despicable thief client, Arthur Jenkins III, tomorrow at nine o’clock sharp.”
She started to step out of the car, but I grabbed her arm.
“Why did you say his name like that, Elizabeth?”
“No reason, just letting you know I’ll be ready to spin the hell out of arguments for him.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“He deserves to spend time in prison for what he did,” she said. “He stole money from charities and school lunch programs. Kids literally went hungry on his watch.”
I let go of her.
“If he gets away with his, he’ll just find a way to get a new high ranking job and do it again.”
I sighed and tapped the dashboard, calling my second-favorite lawyer at the firm.
“Late night, Mr. Carter?” Mr. Yardley’s voice came through the speakers.
“Always. I need a favor.”
“Anything for you.”
“Can I offload an embezzlement case on you and your team?” I asked. “I’ve done all the pre-work, and the prosecutor is willing to make a deal for six years of prison time.”
