Say You're Sorry

He sat on it, keeping his back to the wall.

The kid had already been singled out as a weakling. Who knew what would become of that, but at that moment, everyone seemed to be eyeballing Nick. He’d come into this situation with a game plan of keeping his head down and blending in with the cinderblock walls. But obviously that wasn’t going to work. He needed a new plan.

For the first time, the full weight of the charges hit him.

Unless there was a serial killer amongst the inmates, there probably wasn’t anyone in this pod accused of more serious crimes.

How could this have happened?

He hadn’t even had the chance to mourn Tessa. Her image popped into his head, and sadness pressured his sinuses. He shut that down and channeled some healthier anger. Crying would put him in the same category as the skinny kid.

Deep inside Nick’s chest, rage and frustration boiled. He was stuck in here while whoever killed Tessa was running free. Who had done it? Jacob? He wouldn’t put it past that arrogant prick.

A wolf whistle brought Nick’s thoughts back to the present.

At this point, Nick was an accused rapist and murderer. Hopefully the serious and violent nature of those charges would give the other inmates pause. But in reality, if they wanted to beat Nick’s ass, rape him, or even kill him, there wasn’t much he would be able to do about it.

There were sixty of them, and he wasn’t even in a cell that locked.

At that moment, every gaze was directed at Nick. He wanted to run and scream and pound on the D-pod door.

I didn’t do it.

I’m innocent.

The Man’s comments rang in his mind: The guards don’t give a fuck.

His gaze strayed to the door, as if it would open and he’d be escorted out while everyone apologized for locking him up by mistake.

But that didn’t happen. Shit, he didn’t even have a lawyer who gave a fuck. The one they’d given him for the arraignment read the charges against him exactly three seconds before the hearing and hadn’t protested when the judge had set bail at one million dollars. His dad didn’t have that kind of money.

Nick kept his eyes on the group of men, his ears tuned to the conversations around him, and his mouth shut. In his head, he played his imaginary chess game and forced his posture to relax.

He contemplated his options.

Play badass. Stupid idea. He was a middle-class white kid from a nice neighborhood. He was about as far away from badass as he could get. The only tattoos he’d ever worn were temporary SpongeBob stickers. With no ideas, he settled on staying put and minding his own business. Sooner or later, the other inmates would come to him, and Nick would have to do the best he could. For now, he’d watch and wait.

But night was coming. Would he make it until morning?

Chapter Fourteen

Everyone looked guilty in an orange prison uniform.

Friday morning, Morgan sat at the table in a cell-sized interview room at the county jail. The cobalt blue of her suit was the sole spot of color in the gray-on-gray color scheme. She’d tried to see Nick the previous afternoon, but his official transfer from the SFPD and intake into the county jail hadn’t yet been completed.

Nothing was more important to the law enforcement system than paperwork.

A guard escorted Nick into the room and removed his handcuffs. Rubbing his wrists, Nick slid into the chair opposite Morgan. His face was expressionless, and a bruise darkened his chin. He stared at the wall as the guard retreated.

“He hasn’t said much since we booked him,” the guard said.

Good. He’d listened.

“I’ll be outside the door.” The guard shot Nick a warning look.

“We’ll be fine, but thank you.” Morgan waited for the guard to withdraw to the other side of the door.

Once the door had closed, Nick’s gaze shifted to her face. “Are you really going to be my lawyer?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you.”

He leaned back. “They all think I’m guilty.” He inclined his head toward the door.

“They don’t know you. I do.” Morgan leaned over the table and pinned Nick’s gaze with her own. “I’m going to ask you one time and one time only. Did you kill Tessa?”

Most defense attorneys Morgan knew never, ever asked their clients if they were guilty. Not only did they not want to know, but an attorney could not allow a client to perjure himself and claim innocence on the stand. Defense attorneys skated around this ethical dilemma with a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy.

The justice system wouldn’t work without lawyers who were willing to support both sides. Intellectually, Morgan understood that every accused criminal deserved the best possible defense, but she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she helped free criminals who were released and subsequently committed more violent crimes.

Nick didn’t flinch or fidget at her question. Nor did he break eye contact. His gaze held hers, steady and sure without any trace of guile. “No.”

“Then I believe you.”

Nick didn’t seem to know what to say. “Thank you.”

“Thank me later. I want you to tell me exactly what happened last Thursday night.” Morgan poised her pen over her legal pad.

“I met Tessa at a party at the lake.”

“What time was this?”

“About nine,” Nick said. “Anyway. Right after we got there, the guy she used to date, Jacob Emerson, came over and called her a slut. I told him he should—” Nick paused, looking away, his face flushing.

“I need you to tell me everything, Nick, even if it’s not pretty.” Morgan leaned her forearms on the table. “I worked for the DA’s office for six years. You can’t shock me.”

But he wouldn’t meet her eyes when he said, “I told him he should go fuck himself.”

“And then?”

“And he said he didn’t need to because he’d already fucked Tessa and so had every other guy in town.” Nick took a breath. “Tessa tried to pull me away, but I shoved Jacob. He’s such a privileged, entitled asshole.”

“Then what happened?” Morgan did not want to put words in Nick’s mouth.

Nick shrugged. “The fight didn’t last long. A few shoves back and forth. Tessa got between us, and Jacob knocked her down trying to get at me. That pissed me off. I punched him. He punched me back. Couple of other dudes stepped in, and that was the end of it.” Nick shook his head. “I ended up with a bloody nose. You know what happens when I see blood. It wasn’t much blood, but I almost puked.”

Morgan took detailed notes. “I saw a video of the fight yesterday. It’s been played online and on the news. Did you know someone filmed it?”

Nick shook his head.

“I’ve filed an injunction to have it pulled from the Internet to prevent the tainting of the jury pool, but I’m afraid the damage is already done. I’ll also push for a change of venue. Though we’re not likely to get it, at least the request will go on record as grounds for a possible appeal if you’re convicted.”

Nick’s face went pale. “You think I’m going to be convicted?”

“I’m going to do my best to keep that from happening, but part of my job is to lay the groundwork for possible future appeals.”

“OK.” Nick chewed on a cuticle. “Who took the video?”

“I don’t know yet, but I will find out.” The only two pieces of evidence that Morgan had seen at this point were the list of charges and the video on YouTube. She actually preferred to do her initial interview blind. Once she started reviewing evidence, it would be hard to get Nick’s story down without injecting her own preconceived opinions. “Now that I’m officially your lawyer, I’ll get copies of all the evidence the police and prosecutor have gathered against you.”