Chapter 35
CHAPTER
Twenty minutes later, Bria and Ben walked into a barbecue joint in Union Springs. Honestly, she didn’t know why she’d agreed to go. She certainly wasn’t hungry. After Ben dropped the bomb about Cocheta turning State’s witness, Bria’s stomach turned so sour, she didn’t think she’d ever eat again.
But Ben said they needed to get out of the office, to have a change of scene. Get some air. He said it would give Bria a lift. Make her feel better.
He escorted her to a two-top table in the far corner, away from other customers. Ordered her a beer and a pulled pork sandwich.
Service was fast. The waitress delivered the food and drink in record time.
Bria ignored the sandwich. She drank the beer while they sat in silence.
When Bria drained the final swallow of beer, she spoke. “We can’t win. I don’t have a prayer.”
Ben’s shoulders relaxed. He breathed out, sliding down in his seat. “Thank God. You’ve regained the power of speech. I thought I’d lost you.”
She glared at him. “Seriously? You were worried about my health. So you brought me to a bar?”
He chuckled. “I had a friend, he practiced law in Atlanta. Met him right after I got out of law school. When the chips were down, he’d say, ‘It’s a beautiful day! Let’s go someplace dark.’”
Bria waited, assuming there’d be an uplifting sentiment in the story. But that was it.
She looked around. It was dark inside the bar. And the gloomy atmosphere was intentional. It was the kind of establishment that covered the windows, to prevent the light from shining in.
“We can sit here in privacy.” Ben bit into his sandwich.
She scoffed. “There’s no privacy in this town. Not for me.”
After he swallowed, he said, “Okay, then—relative privacy.” He nudged the plate that held her untouched sandwich. Pushed it an inch closer to her. “You should try it. It’s delicious. Spicy. It’ll put some fire in you.”
“Not happening. The fire’s out. Extinguished.” She studied her empty beer glass. “I’d take another drink. That might make me feel better.”
He looked doubtful. “Is that a medical opinion? Because in my experience, more alcohol isn’t always better—”
“Oh, shut up.” Bria raised her glass to signal the waitress. When a fresh beer appeared in front of her, she took a sip. Just to show him she was in control.
“I’ve made up my mind, Ben,” she said. Her voice sounded thoroughly professional.
One glass of beer couldn’t shake that. “You’ve been extremely noble, coming in from Atlanta and taking this case on.
But it’s hopeless. We can’t win, so what’s the point of going to trial?
There’s no benefit, none that I can see.
I may as well plead, I’m ready to go there.
What’s the best plea bargain offer you think you can get?
I don’t expect the DA to recommend probation, there’s no chance he’d do that. The case is too political.”
“Bria…”
She kept talking, couldn’t stop. “But if he’d offer a reasonably low sentence, and take no position on probation? I think I’d have a shot. My record is clean, I’ve done a lot for the community. And Judge Stone, she’ll be fair. I sincerely admire that woman. The judge seems genuinely compassionate.”
“Bria, stop.”
He didn’t raise his voice. But when he spoke the words, her breath caught. He wore the expression she’d often seen in the medical profession. When a doctor had to break the terrible news.
He didn’t sugarcoat it. Evenly, he said, “It’s not an option for you. Reeves doesn’t intend to offer us a deal. I already inquired, just raised it as a standard question, like I always do. He made it very clear. No plea bargain in this case.”
The revelation shocked her into silence. Bria wasn’t na?ve. She knew that she faced an uphill battle in the case, and that the DA would never offer her a sweetheart deal. But the stark refusal to consider a plea bargain at all?
She picked up the beer. Didn’t sip it, took a deep swallow. Wished it were something stronger.
When she started shaking, Ben put his hand on her arm. It steadied her. He said, “We’re going to trial, Bria. There’s no reasonable alternative. But we’re going to fight this. I believe in you, and I’m going to do everything in my power to see that you get justice.”
She couldn’t look at him, didn’t permit himself to meet his eye. She was afraid of what she’d see, what she might read in his face.
But she was regaining her self-control when she said, “Justice? Don’t bullshit me, I won’t stand for that. There’s no way you can tell me that I’m going to be all right when this is over.”
He dropped his voice. “Come on, Bria, you’re a doctor. You know no profession can guarantee results. I can’t promise an acquittal any more than a doctor can guarantee a cure. But I’m going to be your advocate. Try with everything I’ve got.”
It wasn’t enough. She could feel disaster looming over her. Bria wanted to hear straight talk. Nothing less. “Ben, I’m going to lose. I know that. You have to know that, too. Why are you here?”
Ben didn’t respond immediately. He paused, took a breath. “Because it’s wrong, Bria. Everything that’s happening, what they’re doing to you. It couldn’t be more wrong. The day the story broke, I read about the case. I just had to come.”
He wadded up a paper napkin, tossed it on his plate. “Like I told you, I can’t roll out guarantees. Except for this: Gonna do the best I can to make it right.”
It was the best offer she’d receive. Bria knew that. “Okay. What now?”
His voice was reassuring. “We’ll take it one step at a time. I’m going to talk to each of the State’s witnesses. Take a statement. Analyze what they say.”
She thought about that. “Nova? You’re taking her statement?”
“Got to. Her mother’s, too.”
She opened her mouth, shut it. It hurt to think of inflicting distress on the girl, making her talk about the abortion. She wished she could prevent it. But it was inevitable. Bria had to let her lawyer do his job.
They talked about his pretrial prep, and her struggle with the pain of waiting. She asked him to advise her, how she could best survive until the trial. He advised Bria to try to stay calm, keep up her day-to-day activities. Work, home. Go to church if that was part of her routine.
“I don’t know about that,” she said. “I’m more comfortable in a seedy bar right now than sitting in a pew at the Baptist church.”
Just then, the door opened, sending a burst of afternoon sunlight into the gloomy interior.
The light blinded Bria for a moment. When her eyes adjusted, she saw that three men had sidled up to the bar.
She knew one of them: Vic Fowler, a patient of hers.
Though it was probably more accurate to classify him as a former patient.
Vic Fowler and his friends appeared to be getting rowdy, from the way they were calling for drinks. Sounded like they were all half lit.
“Let’s go,” she said, picking up her purse. It was time to leave. She just had that feeling.
Ben paid the waitress, and they made their way to the door. They didn’t dawdle on the way out, but they weren’t quick enough.
Fowler had spotted Bria, despite the dim lighting.
“Goddamn! It’s Dr. Bria Gaines! You got a lot of nerve, showing your face in here.”
Bria didn’t break stride. She pushed the door open and hustled outside, with Ben right behind her. When they were on the sidewalk, Ben took her arm as they hurried toward his car.
But Vic Fowler followed. “Hey, Doc! Got a message for you. I think there ought to be the death penalty for what you done!”
Ben held the key fob, unlocked the doors. When they reached the vehicle, Fowler ran up and blocked the passenger door, to prevent them from leaving.
Bria tried to reason with him. “Vic, I can’t believe you’re acting like this. I’m your family doctor. I set your arm when you broke it. I cared for your wife during her pregnancy. I delivered your daughter.”
“You’re not our family doctor anymore, you bitch. You won’t fool me again. You’re a cold-blooded murderer. A baby killer.”
When he called her a killer, he advanced on her, coming in so close, she could smell his hot breath. She stepped back, stumbling when her feet hit the curb. Ben kept her from falling.
Then he moved up to confront Fowler. Ben said, “Back off.” And he shoved Fowler away.
The shove threw Fowler off balance for a moment; his arms flailed. When he recovered, he reared back and threw a punch that sent Ben face down onto the asphalt. Knocked Ben out cold.
“No!” Bria fell to her knees on the pavement, checking the injury. His nose was gushing blood.
Fowler stalked away, heading back to the bar. Before he ducked inside, he shouted a warning.
“You can’t be no Christian, Dr. Gaines. Probably don’t believe in God. Do you believe in omens? Well, there’s your omen!”