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“What about me?”
“She can request a visit with you, and they’ll probably grant it.” He took her hand again. “Try not to stress about this, Savannah. I know it’s hard, but we’re stuck until we know more.”
Her fingers curled around his, and she took comfort in his strong grip. “You will get her acquitted, won’t you, Hez?” Even as the words came out of her mouth, she knew it was an unfair question. He couldn’t possibly know what the state had against her, but she wanted some kind of reassurance to help her deal with this.
He squeezed her fingers. “All I can do is promise my best. She’s your sister, and I’ll do everything I can.”
That reassurance meant more than he knew. Hez had always been a man who took pride in his knowledge of the law, and his power in the courtroom was something Jess was going to need.
Chapter 25
“Why can’t I ever say no to her?” Hez asked the windshield as he drove to the Baldwin County jail in Bay Minette. He had been torn at the thought of representing Savannah if she had been arrested, but he had no conflicting feelings about representing her sister in a murder case. He didn’t want to do it. At all. They had never gotten along, and there was no reason to think that would change now. Also, representing Jess would force him either to stay in Pelican Harbor or to make regular four-hour trips from Birmingham. Besides, Jess didn’t need him—she had the money and connections to hire the best criminal defense attorneys in the state. And yet here he was driving to a jailhouse interview with her.
None of the excellent reasons to say no had mattered. Not when Savannah was in his arms with the sun catching the hints of gold in her auburn hair and green eyes, looking up at him with pleading terror.
Oh well. Maybe Jess wouldn’t even want him to represent her. It was entirely possible he would walk into the meeting room and she would tell him that he’d wasted his time because she had already hired some heavyweight lawyer from Mobile. Which wouldn’t bother him in the least.
The jail loomed into view. It was an enormous redbrick cube with a low, flat-roofed building in front. Well-trimmed bushes and palm trees lined the parking lot and gave the compound the appearance of a government office building, at least until a visitor spotted the razor wire–topped fences.
Hez noticed the unique smell of prison as soon as he walked in. A combination of unwashed bodies, cheap disinfectant, and something else—the indefinable odor of despair.
A guard walked him back to the attorney interview room reserved for his meeting with Jess. She was already there, sitting behind a utilitarian table and watching him as he entered. She looked small and young in her prison uniform, but her posture was erect and her hazel eyes full of icy defiance.
“I thought you were only representing me regarding that search warrant,” Jess said as soon as the guard closed the door.
“So did I.” He chuckled as he sat in a chair across the table from her. “But here I am offering to defend you against two murder charges and all the various and sundry related charges the prosecution will throw at you.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I didn’t ask you to.”
“No, but Savannah did.”
“Did she ask—or did you suggest it?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re still trying to win her back.”
“You may not have heard, but I filed for divorce.”
“But the papers aren’t final yet, are they? And I see how you look at her.”
The mention of the divorce brought a sharp stab of pain. “We’re here to discuss your criminal case, not my marriage.” He tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but he wasn’t entirely successful. “Do you want me to represent you or not? And it’s totally fine if the answer is not. I’d actually prefer it. I want to be back in Birmingham permanently by Christmas.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Promise me you won’t use this to try to worm your way back into her heart.”
“That’s it.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “You should have a lawyer you trust, and that clearly isn’t me. Let me know if you want a referral.” He turned toward the door and put his hand on the knob.
“Wait.”
He sighed and turned back. “What?”
A calculating expression creased her face. Had she been testing him? “I want you to represent me.”
“Are you sure? I know some very good local defense attorneys, and I’d be happy to—”
“I’ll pay you the same rate as my New York lawyers—fifteen hundred dollars an hour. Will that be satisfactory?”
He blinked. That kind of money would be a big help when he was finally able to start the Justice Chamber. “Sure.”
