Chapter 91
LUCY
Having your fingerprints on the murder weapon sounded almost insurmountable in a court of law.
But if a jurist could look past that—easier said than done—the district attorney’s case was pretty weak.
It had only been twenty-four hours since I’d been released from jail, and I was in full-fledged lawyer mode. I hated that I was already running a prospective trial through my head, but it’s just how my mind worked.
A potential trial was a long way off, and hopefully, we’d never reach that point.
But I was realistic as well. I doubt there were many examples of DAs dropping cases where they had fingerprints on the murder weapon, especially when they happened to belong to the spouse of the deceased. People had been convicted on far less.
Apparently, this guy Mark Flyer was an old friend of Eddie’s from the East Coast. I hit up one of the few friends of Eddie’s that I’d felt a kinship with, and he informed me that Mark was an old friend of Eddie’s from Philadelphia.
The DA hadn’t set a trial date, so we hadn’t received any discovery from their end, and I had to go find this out myself. The probable cause arrest warrant was just the nuts and bolts of why I was arrested, and didn’t go into specifics.
I reached out to Mia.
“If he really thought he was in trouble, Eddie would not be texting Mark Flyer,” I said.
“Didn’t we go over this, Lucy?”
“I have a different reason this time. Mark Flyer lives on the East Coast.”
“How do you know that? I thought you didn’t know him.”
“I asked an old friend of Eddie’s.”
“I’d advise against that going forward.”
“You advise against everything.”
“So, what’s your point about Mark Flyer?”
“Why would Eddie text a guy when it’s like two or three a.m. back east. If this were a cry for help, wouldn’t you text someone who might be awake?”
Mia didn’t respond for a few seconds, so I knew my point had hit home.
“It’s a solid point.”
“I’m going to have more in the days to come.”
“Okay. Just try to stay away from Eddie’s friends. That could come back and bite us.”
“I’ll try.”
“Goodbye, Lucy.”
I felt like I was the only one fighting for myself.
Sure, Mia Gunn—and everyone at the firm—had my best interests at heart, but they weren’t out there trying to exonerate me. It’s like the fingerprints had cemented their belief that a trial was inevitable.
Not me. I wanted to nip this whole thing in the bud. I didn’t want to languish for months before a trial. Primarily for myself, but also for my parents. This was going to be hell on them.
I decided—against the advice of my legal “team”—to put myself back into the game.
I didn’t like sitting on the sidelines, especially when it was my life on the line.
I’ll be seeing you soon, April Devers.