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Chapter 14
Hez couldn’t wait to tell Savannah the good news—but he had to. She wasn’t in her office when he got back to campus, which was a little surprising since she usually stayed until at least five o’clock. He could wait until he was sure she was back home.
Besides, he had something else he’d been meaning to do. He picked up his desk phone and dialed.
A familiar female voice answered. “Paige Alexander, Federal Public Defender’s Office.”
“Hey, Paige. It’s Hez Webster.”
“Hez? I haven’t heard from you in years! Are you still with the DA’s office? Or did you finally decide to join the Light Side?”
He laughed. He and Paige had been razzing each other ever since they were in law school together at Tulane. “I went into private practice, so I guess you could say I joined the Green Side. If I’m going to defend criminals, I might as well get paid good money for it. You have no excuse.”
“Hey, everybody is entitled to a defense. Except maybe you. I’d probably plead your butt straight into a nice, long sentence. Prison would be good for you.”
He laughed again. “That’s actually what I’m calling about—everyone deserving a defense, that is. Not you committing malpractice to get me behind bars. I’m taking a leave of absence from my firm and teaching at Tupelo Grove. I’d like to do some pro bono work while I’m here and maybe involve a couple of my students. Does the PD ever refer out cases?”
“That’s awesome! You’d make a great professor. As for the referrals, yeah, we make them—usually misdemeanors. But that seems like a waste when we’ve got you available. Hold on a sec.” He caught bits and pieces of a muffled conversation, including “excellent lawyer” and “drunk.” Then Paige was back. “You sober, Hez?”
He was used to—and usually appreciated—Paige’s bluntness. “Yep. I haven’t had a drink for almost two years and I’m in AA.”
“Cool. One more minute.” More muffled conversation ensued. “Okay, we’ve got a felony drug case down there that we don’t have the bandwidth to handle. A guy named Hernando Morales got picked up by the Coast Guard off Fort Morgan at 1:00 a.m. about a week ago. He said he was fishing, but the Coasties say he didn’t have lights on his boat and he tried to evade them. They also claim he threw something overboard, but they couldn’t find anything.”
“They couldn’t find anything?” Hez echoed. “No drugs?”
“None. They even brought out a dog after they towed his boat to shore. Nada. The only thing in the boat was a fishing pole.”
That didn’t add up. “So why is this a drug case, let alone a felony case?”
“Excellent question. Morales is from Biloxi, so he drove a long way to do some night fishing. And he had a drug-trafficking arrest in Mexico ten years ago. That’s it.”
“Seems thin.”
“Very thin, but the U.S. Attorney’s Office is threatening to throw the book at him. If he won’t cooperate, they say they’ll charge it as 1-A intent to distribute, plus a Travel Act violation.”
Hez whistled. “So they’re asking for ten years to life. Wow.” He drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment. He loved a challenge, and the case sounded like it had some intriguing issues. “This doesn’t make sense. There must be more going on.”
“I’m sure there is, but the USAO won’t tell us, and we don’t have the time or resources to figure out what it is. You want the case? It could be a lot of work.”
Hez didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
* * *
Savannah drove home along Willard Street. There was a group grief session tonight, and she should go, but she couldn’t face talking about her loss. Not with her life and heart in so much turmoil. She needed to talk to Nora. She had gotten in last night, and Savannah desperately wanted her best friend’s moral support. Plus, Nora worked for the police department. She would never disclose anything confidential, but her body language might give Savannah a hint as to how worried she should be.
When she stopped at a light, she texted Nora and asked if she’d mind meeting at the coffee shop instead. The lights and hubbub of University Grounds would distract from the memories that kept trying to surface. Someday maybe she’d be able to take them out and examine them, but not now.
A message from Nora pinged back almost immediately. Got you covered, girlfriend. Already at a back table with their first batch of spiced cider in hand.
Savannah exhaled and turned down Magnolia Street. Nora almost always stopped to get them a treat on the way to group. Savannah parked behind her friend’s white Nissan and hurried past students sipping their drinks on the expansive porch of the renovated hotel. The scent of spiced cider overlaid the usual aroma of espresso, and the sound of the steamer hissing was like a relaxing hug to her soul.
She dawdled at the memorabilia wall when she spotted an old photo of Jess and her at a TGU game when the school had won their one and only national football title. She and her sister wore identical joyous expressions. When had she last seen Jess wearing a smile like that? A pang lodged in the region of Savannah’s heart. Jess had lost whatever happiness she’d once had.
She glanced around and saw Nora at a back table. She must have come straight from work because she wore her forensic tech blue uniform. The two of them had met at a group meeting for parents who’d lost a child. Nora’s six-month-old son had died of an asthma attack, and her husband had died in an accident on a military chopper a year later. The two had been friends from the moment they met.
Nora tucked a curl of dark hair behind her ear and stood. “You just missed meeting my niece Tammy. She’s starting work with me at the police station.” Nora took Savannah’s hand and squeezed it. “I can count on one hand the meetings you’ve missed. What’s gotten you in such a tizzy?”
Savannah collapsed onto the chair and reached for the comfort of the hot drink. “My life is a mess.”
