Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
The warmth left with her. In the silence, I could hear the rapid beating of my heart. Inhaling deeply through my nose, I closed my eyes and savored the lingering earthy vanilla scent of her hair.
It didn’t matter.
None of this mattered.
The only thing that mattered was protecting the Worthington name and my plans for revenge.
Crossing to the exit, I reached into my suit jacket and pulled free a linen handkerchief and swiped it across my lips.
Bright pink lipstick stained the white fabric.
I raised my arm to toss it in the garbage but paused.
Refusing to contemplate my reasons, I folded the linen square and returned it to my inner pocket while taking one last look around.
A bakery box sat on the counter. I flipped open the lid.
Selecting one of the still-warm croissants, I bit into it, enjoying the sweet-tart filling which tasted just like Madison’s kiss.
CHAPTER 6
MADISON
“Docket Number CR26246014-01, the People of the State of Virginia versus Madison Hastings. Charge is murder in the first degree, murder in the second degree and vehicular involuntary manslaughter.”
I was shaking so hard I could barely hear the words. I couldn’t stop rubbing my wrists where the metal handcuffs cut into my skin. Lesson number one after getting arrested—absolutely no one gave a damn if your handcuffs were shackled too tight.
Noise and movement surrounded me.
I so badly wanted to curl up in a ball under my bedcovers and process what was happening to me, but couldn’t. From the moment the police shoved me onto the hard plastic seat in the back of the police cruiser everything around me had been cold, loud, and unforgiving.
A constant, frenetic clamor surrounded me—shouting people, slamming doors, and ringing cell phones competed with the wail of sirens and the metal clacking of shackles as prisoners were brought in. All compounded by the judge pounding his gavel and the court clerk calling out an endless stream of cases.
I just wanted to cover my ears and start screaming and never stop.
I thought my dreams of the accident were my nightmare, but I was wrong.
This right now was my nightmare, and I couldn’t wake up.
The judge adjusted his glasses and picked up the file laying in front of him. “You’ve certainly been busy for one so young, Miss Hastings.”
I shook my head. “I’m innocent,” I shouted, trying to be heard over the din, blinking back frustrated tears. “I wasn’t driving the car. It wasn’t me. This is wrong! I shouldn’t be here! Please, you have to let me go!”
The judge pounded the gavel. “Young lady, you will not address this Court. You will speak only when spoken to and leave the talking to your lawyer.” He stretched his neck out and surveyed the crowd. “Where is your lawyer?”
I pivoted and stared out over the public gallery as if a friendly face in a suit would materialize and claim to be my attorney. “I...I...don’t have one, Your Honor. I just got arrested. I don’t know what’s going on. I just opened a new business. I can’t afford an attorney.”
The judge huffed. “Kids today. Don’t even know their basic rights.” He leaned forward and stared at me from over his reading glasses. “Everyone is entitled to an attorney. Didn’t you listen to the Miranda rights when they were being read to you? Gail. Gail? Gail!”
The court clerk hurried toward him. “Here, Your Honor.”
“Who’s assigned to docket number,” he lifted the file and read out, “CR26246014-01.”
She shuffled through the paperwork on her clipboard. “That would be William Ferris. Part of his voluntary pro bono time.”
The judge’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Well, well, today is your lucky day, Ms. Hastings, to be represented by the illustrious firm of Ferris, Ferris & Ferris.”
Someone ran up and whispered in Gail’s ear, handing her a torn scrap of paper. She raised her hand to get the judge’s attention. “Your Honor, there’s been a change. It looks like the court-appointed attorney assigned to Ms. Hastings is—”
Her shoulders hunched and she let out an exasperated sigh. My gaze shifted from the clerk to the judge. What was that sigh supposed to mean?
Gail continued. “Barry Finkle.” She spat out the name.
The judge rolled his eyes.
I stared at him, speechless.
This couldn’t be happening.
The judge stood up and called out, “Barry Finkle. Where is Barry Finkle?”
“Here! I’m here, Your Honor,” came a disembodied voice through the crowd.
I rose on my tiptoes but couldn’t see who had spoken.
Finally, a short, shabby-looking man shouldered his way through the crowd.
I stared as he lifted his arm to signal to the judge, sending a cascade of files, crumpled papers, and a squashed peanut butter and jelly sandwich in a plastic bag tumbling to the courtroom floor.
Everyone who saw it snickered and pointed.
My cheeks flamed, but he seemed unfazed.
Kneeling on the dirty, scratched linoleum courtroom floor, he called out, “Barry Finkle for the defense, Your Honor.”