Chapter 7 Lawyers
LAWYERS
“Scott.” A cordial but awkward start.
“Mia,” he breathed out in a sigh. I winced at the name. It had been my identity for years, but I still hated it from his lips.
We stared at each other, the unspoken questions raised on his face, but he didn’t ask. He knew better not to ask, and I would not divulge any information.
“The detective will be in shortly to question you, I suggest as your lawyer you let me do the talking.” Scott began, and I rolled my eyes, catching the stare of the detective waiting across the hall.
“You know I won’t be doing that, aren’t you at least curious?” I looked back up at Scott.
“Mia I highly recommend you don’t go against my advice. I don’t care what you’ve gotten yourself into this time, the less I know the better.” He sighed heavily, running his hand down his face.
“You look good. What has it been? Ten years?” I already knew the answer.
I had been keeping tabs on Scott since our paths crossed; it was a hobby.
Stalking him through his college years, his marriage and untimely divorce.
She was a gold digger through and through, a pretty stick-head who was always looking for someone new to sink her claws into.
She was gone before their six-month anniversary.
I watched him pass the bar, his rise through the ranks from lackey to the best defense lawyer money could buy.
Of course, he didn’t know I’d been there every step of the way. We didn’t talk anymore.
“Eight, and is this really your choice of conversation? To question my decisions after all these years?” He was going into defensive mode. I had seen it multiple times in the courtrooms he so proudly displayed.
“Relax. I’m sure your skills will have me out in no time.” I laughed, throwing my head back and again catching the detective staring.
“I’ll inform the detective we are ready.” He left the room only to return with the two detectives.
“Hello Miss?” The handsome detective spoke.
“Williams, Mia Williams. And you are?” I questioned. I smiled, pretending I had no inkling of who the man was in front of me.
“Detective Jones. This is Simmons.” He pointed to the other detective as if as an afterthought.
“Are you charging my client?” Scott asked, irritated.
“Not yet, but we have some questions if you don’t mind my asking them Miss Williams?” Detective Jones smiled warmly. A disarming tactic I was far too familiar with and I nodded along in understanding.
“I’ve advised my client that she doesn’t have to say anything. You may direct your questions towards me.” Scott’s voice was aggressive, clear, and annoyed at me for the response I had already supplied.
I patted Scott’s arm, and he glared at me.
“Scott now let the good detectives do their job, I’m dying to know what they wish to ask,” I smiled sweetly.
“Mia you really shouldn’t,” the warning tone in Scott’s voice sent excited chills up my spine.
“I’m waiving my right to counsel you may continue.” I calmly stated.
Scott’s face reddened in anger, but he refrained from speaking again, annoyances and a lecture he’ll receive.
“Where were you on the night of June 26th?” Detective Jones began.
“I was at home.” I dulled out.
“Was that at 2524 Lakeman circle?” Simmons questioned, looking down at her notepad. She was a pretty brunette with high cheekbones and a buzz cut on one side, which gave her a rigid military appeal.
“It was.” I confirmed boredom seeping into my tone.
“Strange, are you aware that the property in question belongs to a Mrs. And Mr. Jacobson?” Simmons continued glancing back over her notes.
“Family friends, they’ll be back in town for the 4th of July weekend.” I continued in the same monotone voice.
“We will confirm this of course.” Jones supplied, looking skeptical.
“I count on it.” I smiled widely.
“Do you know what things you did on the day of June 26th?” Jones questioned.
“Are you asking if the drugs in my system affected my mental state?” I probably shouldn’t have said that.
Detective Jones looked up, his lips parted like he wanted to reply, but before he could, Scott stepped forward.
“Mia.” Scott hissed.
“Scott.” I replied way too sweetly.
“I think my client is tired and needs the rest, shall we continue this discussion another time?” Scott gestured towards the door.
“Of course we will be back to check on you later.” Simmons said.
“One last question before we go, Do you often make habit to fuck objects that shouldn’t be fucked?” Detective Jones asked, his voice full of curiosity.
“That’s inappropriate detective.” Scott’s stony gaze bore into the side of my head.
“Only on Tuesdays.” I didn’t even blink as the words left my lips.
“Goodbye detectives,” Scott’s tone was final as he held the door open for them, his knuckles white.
I watched the slightest smile bleed onto the detective’s face as they turned and left.
“Mia.” Scott turned towards me, letting loose the anger tone.
“Scott.” I smiled, un-phased.
“How’s the uncle?” I quickly questioned trying to change the subject.
“Paraplegic but you knew this, why do you insist on making things hard?” He shook his head, pulling the visitor chair next to the bed rails.
“I get bored easily,” I simply looked at him. It was true to a degree but not entirely true.
“Your boredom just happened to be—” he glanced down at the crime scene photos in his folder and looked up once again, finishing, “mounting men with deer antlers and painting Bambi in guts on the walls?” He looked sickly green as one image depicting the cum shots next to the dead man.
“Along with pleasure riding a K-bar dripped in blood.” I added a bit too proudly. God, I was fucked up.
“What day is it?” I asked in redirecting the conversation.
“It’s Monday the thirtieth, you slept for three days,” His response was full of irritation.
“Darn I missed baking night” I blew out a short laugh.
“What’s so important about baking? You realize you could be arrested right?” His voice rose an octave, showing just how passionate he was about my freedom.
That silly boy was still trying to play hero after all these years; it warmed my heart, even if I couldn’t admit it.
“It’s the night the kid and nanny spend all evening baking sweets and watching cartoons.” I sighed.
I missed watching their routine; it was calming seeing them go on through life despite the cruel world around them.
The girl was making successful progress in spelling and mathematics, not that her mother cared to cheer her on, but the nanny—she was the genuine hero, always encouraging and studying with her—it was a simple thing that made my day. I smiled bitterly.
“What are you even talking about?” He snapped towards me, moodier than before.
“Nothing, shouldn’t you be doing lawyer stuff anyways?” I bit out coldly.
“You think I just so happened to come here of my own accord? I wasn’t even in the country when I got the call.” His tone was bittersweet, and he wasn’t looking me in the eye.
“But you came.” I kept my mouth shut, not wishing to sour things so quickly.
I knew he wasn’t in the country; he was overseas with his newest girlfriend, Paris, last I heard, with plans to propose once they hit Spain.
I wasn’t remorseful that he was here with me instead of her.
I was overjoyed that I didn’t have to make her disappear.
What was that saying? I kissed it, so it’s mine?
I’ll always know what he’s up to, and I’ll be damned if he thinks he can go around marrying someone just so he gets laid.
He was a devoted Christian or Catholic or whatever, claiming that he wouldn’t have sex unless he was married.
It was hypocritical really, considering that was far from the truth eight years ago, but then how could I blame him?
It was probably the best sex of his life.
Maybe that was why he was so uptight, always hard, unable to do anything about it.
“Let’s see, either come back here and deal with you and get my ass kicked in the process or deal with my family and be beaten half to death for not being here. I think you take the cake.” He gritted out. Clearly, he regretted his lot in life.
“Who called you?” I demanded, tired of the nice little chat we were having.
“The same person who always called when your people are in trouble,” He shrugged.
My people, not ‘our people.’ Scott was ashamed to admit that the mafia was ingrained in his blood.
It was my people, the syndicates, aka syns, that used his service the most, but he knew there were just as many obsidians, aka blacks, in his clientele.
I sighed softly, fiddling with the handcuff on my wrist. Of course, he didn’t know who pulled his strings.
It was probably orders from the chain of command and some lackey charged with making the call.
Obsidian never liked to get their hands dirty.
“You think they’ll take these off soon? I’m not a flight risk.” My tone bored once again as I tested the pull of the cuff’s chain.
“We’ve known each other for years, and I still don’t know your role in the organization, or why you haven’t left it. Why haven’t you spoken to me in years?” The vulnerability and sensitivity of his voice was a stake to the heart.
His hand reached for mine; the IV leads poking out of it reminded me of my predicament.
The simple gesture of human contact was nice but foreign.
I didn’t like it, but I didn’t pull away.
Scott had so much potential but not the heart to do what was necessary.
It was the reason he wasn’t trusted with that information, and ultimately a reason he was always thrown back into the ocean instead of collected like a prized and rare commodity.
“Not now Scott, you know as well as I that asking questions like that only gets you killed, or worse.” I reprimanded in a serious tone. His face morphed with shock as he pulled his hand back and straightened his tie.
“Who’s going to know?” He questioned after a moment, gesturing toward the empty room, and gripped my hand tighter.
“Midas.” I whispered. My eyes glazed over like I couldn’t exactly remember why I was fearful of him.