Chapter 3
Lily
Muffled voices filter in through the door. I wonder how many of them are talking about me. Scrolling through my contacts, my thumb hovers over the one I’m nervous to call. Vernon has been Blake’s attorney for years. He’s given me advice a few times when I went to him out of necessity.
Honestly, he was more encouraging when I started my career than Blake ever was. But at the end of the day, he was Blake’s attorney first, and he deserves to hear the news of Blake’s death from me in person rather than through me asking him if he knows of a defense attorney.
I close my contacts and pull up my internet browser, searching for best defense attorneys in Nashville and reading through the results.
There are some articles from a few years ago about an attorney named Chris Rivers.
But when I look him up, it doesn’t say anything about defense work on his website.
Sighing my frustration, I go back to the other search results. It’s hard to really tell who I should go with, so I just select a name and connect the call. I don’t even know if they will answer, since it’s a Saturday.
The ringing sounds harsh in my ear as I wait for someone to answer.
“Marcus, Thompson, and Fuller, this is Bethany. How may I direct your call?”
The voice is perkier than I’m prepared for as I stare at the stark, bland walls of the interrogation room. “Hello, I’m looking for someone with experience in defending someone in a murder trial. Do any of your attorneys have that?”
I don’t really know the right way to ask if the attorney sucks and has lost every murder trial they’ve ever worked or if they have no experience at all. But I can’t risk hiring just anyone. I need the best.
The receptionist seems uncomfortable with my question. “Um, you need a defense attorney?”
I rub my forehead. “Yes, I do. But I need someone who’s done this before.”
The nervous laughter on the other end of the phone calms me for some reason. As if her discomfort justifies mine. “Uh, okay, ma’am. I can set you up a consultation appointment within the next few days if that works? We can discuss that further.”
Glancing around the room, my gaze stops on the mirror that everyone knows isn’t actually a mirror, my battered face staring back at me.
The bruises are already getting darker. “That might be a little difficult, Bethany. I’m pretty sure I’m about to be arrested for my husband’s murder, and I might not be able to make it in for that appointment. ”
“Oh.” The clicking of a keyboard is all I can hear for a moment before Bethany continues. “Mr. Fuller can be there in an hour. Do you know which police station you’re at?”
I recite to her what I remember reading on the sign as we walked up to the door of the building. “Is he good?”
“Got it. I just let Mr. Fuller know. And yes, he’s the best and most experienced attorney in our firm. We can get the retainer taken care of after you speak with him.”
“How much is the retainer?”
Bethany hesitates for a moment. “For a charge like this, $35,000.”
I have no idea how much money Blake has.
Or had. But since I started working right after we moved to Nashville, I’ve kept a separate bank account.
Blake never questioned where my paychecks went since he paid all the bills, and I never asked him for money.
It worked out well for both of us. So, I have plenty of money to cover the attorney’s fee. “Okay, thank you.”
She asks me a few more demographic questions and tells me again that Mr. Fuller will get down to the station as soon as he can. I thank her again and disconnect the call.
After slipping my phone into my purse, the tendrils of restless, anxious energy dip into my stomach and twist. I’m not often scared, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling exactly that right now.
Blake is dead.
I found him.
I don’t know a lot about evidence, but it seems like what they have to prove I did it is shaky at best. Unless…
I shake my head, hoping the action clears my thoughts.
I’ve watched enough true crime shows to know that cases have been tried and people have been found guilty with little evidence, though.
At the end of the day, it’s what can be spun into a convincing tale to get the jury on the prosecutor’s side.
The chair screeches across the floor when I push it back to stand. I need to move around or I will lose it. I start to pace, my mind a jumbled mess of every emotion, every thought, making me dizzy as I try to make sense of it all.
To tamp down feelings I don’t have time to deal with right now, I pull out my phone to make another call. I tap my fingers on the side of my thigh as I wait for her to answer.
Finally, my assistant picks up. “Lily? Is everything okay?”
I rub my forehead and let my eyes close as I do my best to compartmentalize what occurred. “Hi, Anna. It’s a little complicated. But not exactly. Can you cancel my meetings for today and tomorrow? I won’t be in.”
Even if I’m not arrested today, I figure I should take a few days to adjust to whatever this new life is going to be.
“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure, I can do that. Will you be in on Wednesday?”
Looking up, I find my own face in the two-way mirror once more. I touch my fingertips to my cheek gingerly, where my split skin is starting to scab over. This is embarrassing. But hopefully I can cover it with enough makeup to disguise it. It’s not the first time I’ve had to do it.
I turn away from the mirror, no longer wanting to see the evidence of how awful my life was, even before today. “I should be. But I’ll keep you posted.”
“Okay.” She hesitates. “Lily, I know you’re my boss, but I also consider you a friend. Do you need anything?”
My shoulders sag slightly. Anna really is one of my only friends. Mostly because I’ve been too busy to put in the effort. Also, my life felt like such a mess that I figured no one would want to get close to me.
I let out a slow exhale. “I really appreciate you asking, Anna. I think I’m okay right now, but there’s a possibility that I might need something. If you get a call from a number you don’t know, can you answer it? I might not have my phone.”
Her voice is a mix of sadness, confusion, and concern. “Of course. I’ll be waiting by my phone. I’m not kidding, Lily. I’ll help in any way I can.”
“I know, thank you.” I resume my pacing. “I’m going to let you go. But I’ll call you later.”
Hanging up the phone, I cross my arms over my chest. I rarely allow myself the luxury, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t give to crawl into my bed and spend the rest of the day curled up there, maybe with a good book or just watching mindless television and forgetting about all of this shit.
I’m midway across the room in my attempt to dispel some of this anxious energy, when the door creaks open behind me.
I spin around and see Detective Martinez and the younger detective from earlier, who I learned is Detective Barrington, entering the room.
The door clicks closed behind them, and Barrington gestures at the table, letting me know I should sit down.
Right now, I don’t trust anyone in this entire building, but there’s a small part of me that’s consoled now that Martinez is in the room with me. There’s just an air about him that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, all hope isn’t lost quite yet.
I slowly lower myself back onto the hard, unforgiving chair and clasp my hands in my lap, waiting to hear what they’re going to say.
Barrington unlocks his phone, swiping quickly before he sets it on the table and turns it in my direction. An involuntary whimper leaves my throat when an image of my deceased husband fills the screen, a sheet covering him from the waist down, and his torso an abnormal color.
He swipes to the next one, which appears to be a close-up photo of a stab wound.
“The autopsy isn’t complete, but the coroner feels pretty confident that it is what killed your husband.”
I swallow hard but stay silent.
Barrington goes on. “Blunt force trauma to the head. Looks like he took a couple pretty good wacks to his head with something heavy.”
A single tear trails down my cheek. My husband became an uncaring, abusive asshole, but at one point, I did love him.
“He also had some scratch marks and small bruises on him that looked to be fresh.”
I nod, and not being able to stay silent any longer, I whisper, “Those are from me. I tried to fight back.”
Instantly regretting my words as I realize how it sounds, my stomach churns.
When Barrington speaks next, I know I’ve fucked up. “As you should, Lily. No woman deserves to be hit.”
I eye him cautiously, not trusting that he really understands or cares about the circumstances of my marriage.
His voice is low and condescending when he asks, “And you fought back for good, didn’t you?”
My eyes widen, and I suck in a breath. “I’ve told you I was calling an attorney. I refuse to answer any of your questions. And you continuing to ask me these questions with your fake sympathy, you are violating my constitutional rights.”
My eyes cut over to Martinez, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was hiding a smirk behind his hand. I look back at Barrington, and he’s holding up his hands in defense.
“No one’s violating anyone’s constitutional rights around here. It had just been a while, and since no one showed up, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to waive that so we could get you home.”
Placing my hands flat on the table to steady myself, I steel my gaze.
“Detective Barrington, I know what you may think of me, but I know my rights, and you do not get to try to trick me into answering your questions. I would take my chances on a public defender with absolutely no experience before I trusted you to get me home. So, if you would be so kind as to leave me alone while I wait for my attorney.”
The satisfaction that fills me when Barrington’s jaw drops a little in shock has me almost forgetting why I’m locked in this room to begin with. Martinez lets out a cough that sounds suspiciously like a laugh before Barrington shoots to his feet.
“Fine, have it your way. If your attorney isn’t here within the hour, I’m taking you to the holding cell.”
I don’t have a good rebuttal for that, so I don’t say anything as the two men walk out the door and leave me alone for the second time.
What’s almost fifty-nine minutes later, the door opens, and a tall, older man with thick, silver white hair steps into the room.
“Lily Bennett, I presume.”
I nod and stand.
He waves me back into my seat, and I slowly lower back down. When he’s seated across from me, he holds out his hand, and I take it, hating how clammy it feels in mine. He frowns at me before saying, “My name is William Fuller. I was told you need a defense attorney for murder?”
Nodding again, I explain, “Yes, I do. I only answered a few of their questions, but once they brought me down here, I said I wouldn’t say anymore without an attorney present.”
“And who do they think you murdered?”
I take a deep breath. “My husband.”
William points to my face. “That happen often?”
Squaring my shoulders, I answer, “I guess it depends on your definition of often. He’s hit me before, and this isn’t the worst he’s ever done to me.”
His frown deepens. “Huh.” He studies me for a breath before continuing. “That’s going to make it harder to defend you.”
My eyes narrow as I try to figure out what that’s supposed to mean. “Well, plenty of women get beaten up by their significant others, and those women don’t go on killing their partners.”
“And plenty of abusers don’t wind up dead, but yours did.” He crosses his arms over his chest.
My jaw drops a fraction. He isn’t wrong. I don’t have a response. All I manage is one question. “Will you defend me or not?”
Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on the table. “My law firm isn’t cheap. I think our receptionist told you the retainer. It only goes up from there. Especially if we go to trial. Which I’m guessing we will. I just want to make sure you’re prepared for that.”
I press my lips together, wincing from the slight twinge of pain from my split lip.
The condescending way this man is talking to me is making anger flare across my skin.
It tries to pull me back into a place I worked years to get out of.
Not to mention, his assumption that I’ll be arrested and go to trial.
He could at least pretend I’m not about to be, for my sake.
Taking a breath, I shake my head. “Mr. Fuller, I think we’re done here.”
William’s lips part in surprise.
I don’t give him a chance to say anything. “I apologize for wasting your time. Unfortunately, you’re not the right person to represent me.”
He snaps his mouth shut and clears his throat. “I would’ve been happy to help you, Lily. Hopefully, you can find someone who better fits your needs.” William stands. “Or you can always get a public defender. Best of luck to you.”
When he turns away from me, I let some of the emotion bubbling slip to the surface now that he isn’t looking at me. I press my fingers to my trembling lips. He doesn’t bother turning around when he pulls the door open and steps back into the hall, leaving me alone.
It isn’t until the door clicks closed that a tear slips down my cheek.
I’m scared. I’ve tried so hard to be brave because that’s what I’ve been doing for years. But right now, in this cold, grey room I sit in, alone, I don’t want to be brave for just a few minutes. I want to allow myself a moment of weakness.
But I can’t because it’s then that the door opens again, and Barrington and the older detective from earlier enter. I hate that Martinez isn’t with them.
Just as I have so many times before, I shove my emotions down within me and tell them, “I would like a public defender, please.”
At least this will allow me some time to find a different defense attorney. One whom I can trust won’t prosecute me before I’m even charged.