Chapter 6
MADISON
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.”
He dumped the pile of scattered papers and smooshed sandwich on the table in front of me, then held out his hand. “Ms. Hastings, my name is Barry Finkle, and I will be representing you in this matter.”
I awkwardly lifted my handcuffed wrists to shake his hand, grimacing when he squeezed my fingers too tight in his sweaty grasp.
The judge cleared his throat. “Mr. Finkle, if you are ready to proceed.”
Barry adjusted his coffee-stained tie. “Could I request another reading of the charges, Your Honor?”
I closed my eyes. It had been hard enough hearing it once.
The judge motioned to Gail who called out a second time, “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.”
Barry’s eyes widened. “Murder!”
I swung my head in his direction.
He slapped his hand over his mouth. “Sorry.”
He then turned to me and, loudly enough for everyone around us to hear, stage-whispered, “You’re charged with murder?”
My brow furrowed. “As my assigned attorney, aren’t you supposed to already know that?”
He waved his hand between us. “Sorry. Sorry. I just got excited. This is my first murder case.”
I blinked several times as my fingernails carved crescents into my palms.
Did they have the death penalty in Virginia?
The man at the table across from ours spoke up. “Commonwealth’s Attorney John Davis for the prosecution, Your Honor.”
The judge sighed, as if already bored with my case. “How does the defendant plead?”
Barry leaned in. “How do you plead?”
I said in a rush, “Not guilty.” Then I turned my attention to the judge and said louder, “I’m not guilty, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded and scribbled something on the paper in front of him. “People on bail?” The CA spoke again. “Your Honor, the People’s case is very strong. We have video taken right before the crash in question which clearly shows the defendant driving the vehicle—”
I cried out, “That’s a lie! That’s a fucking lie! I wasn’t driving and you know it!”
The judge banged his gavel so hard and so many times the top snapped off, tumbled to the floor, and rolled under the clerk’s desk.
Flustered, the judge straightened his glasses.
“Young lady, one more outburst like that and I will have you removed. I don’t want to have to tell you again to only speak through your attorney. Mr. Finkle, control your client!”
I lowered my head and murmured, “Sorry, Your Honor.”
The CA cleared his throat. “As I was saying, Your Honor, the People have a strong case. The defendant is new to Cliffs End with no strong ties to the community. People ask for the defendant to be remanded.”
Remanded? Wait.
Didn’t that mean they were going to keep me in jail with no bail?
Desperate, I leaned over and whispered to Barry, “That’s not true. I have ties to the community. I have a bookshop and friends.”
Barry waved me off.
The judge turned to my attorney. “Mr. Finkle, any objections?”
Barry shrugged. “I got nothing, Your Honor. Sounds reasonable to me.”
The CA continued. “We would also request a speedy trial. There is no reason to waste the Court’s time with this one.”
The judge again looked at my attorney. Barry piped up, “No objection.”
I glowered at Barry. “Aren’t you going to object to any of this?”
He shrugged again. “They have video. Can’t argue against video. Your best hope is for a plea deal as a first offender, maybe you’ll only get fifteen years.”
Only fifteen years?
The judge went to bang his gavel and huffed. He pounded his fist instead. “Defendant is remanded until trial. Speak to my clerk about a trial date. Next case.”
A female bailiff wrapped her hand around my upper arm and dragged me away. I dug my heels in. “Wait! No. What just happened? I’m innocent.” I turned pleading eyes to Barry. “You can’t let them take me away.”
He didn’t even bother to look up from where he was hastily shoving papers into his briefcase. “That’s what they all say. I’ll visit you tomorrow to go over your plea.”
The bailiff pulled me toward a set of double doors, behind which prisoners waited for transport to the local prison. I desperately looked over the crowd of strangers for someone, anyone, who could save me.
And that was when I saw him.
Pierce Worthington.
He leaned casually against the wall in the back of the courtroom as if he were watching a tennis match and not my entire life going down the drain.
His unfeeling eyes captured my gaze.
He was responsible for this, for all of this.
Somehow, some way, I was going to make him pay.