Rory wanted to demand why he hadn’t already refreshed his memory.
“You’ll see the mark in the photos.” Chance gestured to his neck. “About here on the right side. Whoever used the Taser was likely right-handed.”
Patterson grabbed a pen and made a note of what he’d just been told.
“What sort of follow up are you doing on the undisclosed fibers?” Chance inquired.
The attorney seemed to draw himself up slightly straighter. “I’ve asked for the full forensic report.”
“You haven’t received it yet?” The surprise in Chance’s voice was clear. “Have you requested a sample to send to an outside lab?”
Patterson held up a hand. “One moment.” He picked up the phone on his desk and punched a button. “Reba, can you step into my office for a moment?” He cleared his throat again. “We’ll get the ball rolling on that.”
Rory exchanged a look with Chance. This was either incompetence or indifference. She wasn’t sure which one was worse, but she couldn’t afford either.
Reba hustled into the office. She glanced around at the parties seated. “Yes, sir?”
Patterson peered up at her with a questioning look that was obviously exaggerated. “Have we received the forensic report on those fibers related to Rory’s case?”
It was the blink…the blank expression and the three-second delay in her response that gave Rory the answer. They hadn’t asked for the report. Or, at the very least, had not followed up on the request.
“We have not, no. But I’ll get in touch with the DA’s office right now and find out what the holdup is,” she assured her boss, then hurried back to her desk, closing the door behind her.
“Do you plan,” Chance said, drawing the attorney’s attention back to him, “to re-interview any of the character witnesses?”
“Oh, yes.” He nodded adamantly. “We’re lining those up already. I’ll be sure to pass along whatever we find.”
Rory couldn’t take the lies and the excuses anymore. She stood. “Well, thank you, Mr. Patterson. I look forward to hearing from you sooner rather than later.”
She marched out of his office, her fury barely in check. Chance followed. As difficult as it was, she somehow managed to hold back the words she wanted to shout until they were in the car.
“Does he really believe,” she exclaimed, her back against the seat, her attention focused on the office front window only a dozen or so feet away, “that I won’t notice his disregard for my situation? His total lack of interest in how this goes?”
Chance reached for the hand she had braced on the console. He gave it a squeeze. “What you need is a new attorney.”
She closed her eyes. How on earth was she supposed to make that happen? She had no money for a new attorney, and the process for being assigned a court-ordered one would eat up valuable time. Time they might not have. “I can’t…” She blinked back the burn of damned tears.
“If you’re in agreement, the agency will have someone take over the case,” he assured her. “You and I are not going to worry about anything except finding the evidence we need to make sure this never goes back to trial.”
Rory almost wept with relief. “That would mean the world to me.”
He nodded. “Done.”
She drew in a deep breath, let it go. “So what do we do now?” She turned to him and held on tightly to his hand.
“Now we go see someone who worked with Pete. Whoever you believe may have known about any work-related issues. We need to rule that scenario out so we can focus on the next one.”
Rory nodded. “I know just the guy to talk to.” She waited until he’d backed from the parking slot. “What’s the next one? I mean, after we talk to Pete’s work friend?”
He met her gaze, held it for three beats. “The possibility that someone close to Pete wanted him out of the way.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Docks
Hembree Drive
Scottsboro, 12:00 p.m.
