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)
“Barry claims he already had someone review it and it’s genuine.”
Hailey grimaced. “Do you believe that he did?”
“No.”
Hailey frowned. “This is a fucking mess.”
“Welcome to my life.”
“There must be something we can do.”
“My only hope is the jury will see through all the bullshit.”
“So basically, we’re banking on twelve people who are too dumb to get out of jury duty to see through this mega-intense, super crazy revenge scheme and find you not guilty?”
“Of course, if Pierce could get to the commonwealth’s attorney and probably the judge, what’re a few jurors?”
“You think he’ll bribe the jury, too?”
“I think Pierce Worthington will stop at nothing to make me suffer.”
“Jesus, Madison, this is a fucking mess.”
I exhaled. “You already said that.”
“All right then, this is a motherfucking hot pile of shit mess,” she corrected.
“That’s better.”
Hailey vowed, “He will not get away with this. We’ll find a way to beat him at his own game.”
Before I could respond, the officer stepped forward. “Time’s up, Hastings.”
Hailey’s next words came out in a rush as she stood. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll see you tomorrow in court. I dropped your outfit off at the guard station. They’ll bring it to court for you to change. Don’t worry, Madison. He won’t get away with this. We’ll stop him. The truth will come out.”
I forced a smile and gave her a halfhearted wave, then hung up the phone and preceded the officer out.
At least one perk of being framed for murder by an uber-rich man was that he was also an impatient one.
Since my incompetent attorney hadn’t filed a single motion in my defense, there was no reason not to proceed directly to trial at lightning speed.
Hailey truly believed Pierce wouldn’t get away with framing me for murder.
The problem was...he already had gotten away with it.
CHAPTER 9
MADISON
“Iobject!” I shouted, pounding the table for emphasis like they did in the movies.
The judge’s nostrils flared as he let out a frustrated sigh. “For the last time, Miss Hastings, you are not permitted to object. Mr. Finkle, please control the defendant.”
“Sorry, Your Honor.”
My useless attorney snatched my upper arm and dragged me back down to my seat.
Bent close, the onion bagel he had scarfed down in the side room before court was still strong on his breath as he whispered, “Miss Hastings, you have to stop objecting.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Fine. I’ll stop objecting when you start.”
He swiped his sleeve under his nose before responding. “I’ve already told you there is nothing we can do about the video evidence. It’s solid.”
“And I’ve told you that not only was I not driving that night, but countless people could tell you that Jameson never let anyone drive his precious sports car. He wouldn’t even let the valets park it. They always had to keep it up front.”
A sharp rap of the gavel cut Finkle’s reply off. “Mr. Finkle, if the Court may proceed.”
Startled, my attorney’s arm jerked across the table, scattering several papers and files onto the floor. He dropped to his knees and gathered them up. “Yes, Your Honor.”
Looking over my shoulder, I caught Hailey’s gaze.
She mouthed, “Twatwaffle,” and rolled her eyes.
Rylee was sitting next to her and gave me an encouraging two thumbs-up.
It would have been more encouraging if her eyes weren’t red-rimmed and swollen.
I glanced over at the jury. One man kept twisting his finger in his ear. Another wouldn’t stop licking his lips every time he looked at me. Three had been doodling on their notepads the entire time, and one woman had actually fallen asleep. Since the day this trial started, the one thing they all had in common was they all looked bored as hell and not the least bit concerned I was on trial for my life.
I slumped in my chair and covered my eyes.
The commonwealth’s attorney cleared his throat before continuing. “As I was saying, you can clearly see it was the defendant, Miss Hastings, behind the wheel, as captured in this traffic camera footage, not the poor victim Jameson Worthington, moments before the tragic accident which took his life.”
I peeked through my fingers.
The video was playing on a large flat-screen TV just to the side of the judge’s bench, in full view of the jury. The CA had momentarily stopped the video. The footage was gray and grainy, but I was clearly behind the wheel. What looked odd was while Jameson was on the passenger side, his head was turned to the right, and his mouth was open as if he were in the middle of yelling at the closed window instead of at me.
But what I remembered from that night was he’d screamed at me from the moment we got into the car until the accident. I sat up straighter and stared at the frozen image.
There was something wrong with the video.