In episode 3, Francine develops a serious case of the hots for her client. Angelo and Tony meet for the first time. Tony makes an interesting confession to his aunt Janet, and Johnny's condition grows worse.
This book was previously published.
It was half-past eight, and Francine Thomson was exhausted. She took off her high heels, shoved them into her bag and put on her running shoes while she waited to see Drake at the jail.
Sure, she was being well paid for this case, but it was exhausting her, both physically and emotionally.
Seth Anderson, the DA, was a hardass when it came to giving anyone a break. Everything by the book. She thought she’d have Drake out of jail by the end of the week. Now it was beginning to look like two weeks.
Suddenly, a guard appeared and directed her down the hallway. She stepped through the metal detector, then went straight through to the consultation room. The guard opened the door for her.
Drake looked up as she came in, and smiled.
She smiled back. How could she not? He had a dynamite smile.
“I didn’t expect to see you back here tonight,” he said in his deep, smooth voice. “Has something happened, Francine?” He sat back in his chair.
She pulled out a chair on the other side of the table and then searched in her bag for a cigarette. She had told him to call her Francine, but she regretted it now. He had a way of saying her name that sounded like they had just been in bed together. She didn’t think it was intentional. It was just his way. She put a cigarette in her mouth, lit it and then held one out to him.
He shook his head. “My voice, smoking ruins the voice,” he explained.
“Oh,” she replied, blowing out smoke.
“What’s wrong, Francine? You seem tense.”
She was the lawyer, and he was the defendant. He was the one who was supposed to be tense.
“The D.A. agreed that the evidence seems to back up your story. The fingerprints on the gun and the angle of the bullet indicate that your brother tried to pull the gun away from you and toward himself before it went off. He was shot at extremely close range, and...”
“So, that’s good,” Drake cut her off. He got up and paced. He didn’t want to go through all this again. “They believe me, then?”
“So, when can I get out of here?”
“There is something I don’t understand, Drake,” Francine eyed him.
He stood still and met her eyes. “What’s that?”
“This complete about-face. First, you don’t give a damn, and now you’re the epitome of cooperation.”
“I’m the only chance my brother has. I need to be with him, that’s all.”
“Why did you try to kill yourself?” Francine asked him.
“Who says I did?” he asked, raising a dark eyebrow.
“Well, that’s your defence. That’s our defence. You’ll have to explain why you wanted to kill yourself in the hearing.”
“Isn’t there any way we can do without that?”
“No. The D.A. wants to hear all this from your lips, not mine. Then they’ll drop the charges.”
“Can I get out of here before the hearing?”
“Yes. The hearing could be months from now. They may require bail at this point, but it won’t be a lot. You can afford it. Of course, you’ll have to promise not to leave the city until the hearing.”
He nodded solemnly.
“We need to draw up a formal statement based on what you told me this afternoon, and it will have to be more detailed.”
“Meaning you will have to explain to the judge why you tried to kill yourself.”
Drake’s eyes grew stormy. “What in fuck does this judge care why I tried to kill myself? Jesus, lots of people in this business try to kill themselves, and some even succeed. It’s a crazy life, a lot of pressure. You’re always on the road, you’re always overtired. Maybe I was just tired of living.”
Francine gazed at him. “A man like you...in the prime of your life, with everything to live for, tried to shoot himself in the head? You’re talented, on top of the heap, great-looking, rich, lovers coming out your ears. What could you possibly be lacking?”
“Love,” he said softly.