Bailed Out (The Anna Albertini Files #2) - Rebecca Zanetti Page 0,85

and up to five years. This wasn’t right.

The judge shook his head. “Young man, are you sure you want to plead guilty?”

The kid nodded, his head down.

Before I knew what I was doing, I stood. “Wait a minute, your Honor. Please.” I strode down the middle aisle and opened the swinging gate to the well, moving toward the kid. “Hey.”

He looked up, his blue eyes miserable. “Hey.”

“How old are you?” I whispered.

“Eighteen,” he whispered back.

“Objection, your Honor,” Alice said loudly. “This is inappropriate.”

The judge shushed her.

I leaned closer to the kid, looking up at his clean cut face. “Why are you pleading guilty?”

He shrugged narrow shoulders. “We were riding across old man McLerrison’s farm, and I guess we damaged the land by his pond. It was an accident, but we were trespassing, so I did the crime.”

Oh, what a sweetie. “Where are your parents?”

He blanched. “Dead. My uncle raised me and died a couple months ago. I just want to get this over with, you know? I don’t know how to do any of this.”

I patted his arm. “That’s okay. I do.”

He shook his head. “I can’t afford you.”

“Sure, you can. I take stuff besides money all the time.” I tried to look encouraging. “I need a bunch of heavy stuff moved, and you look strong. Don’t worry—we’ll work it out.”

He shuffled his feet, looking like that Opie kid from the Mayberry show on the old movie channel. “I don’t know.”

“I do. We’ll work it out. Do you have a dollar?” I asked.

“No.” He reached in his pocket and drew out a shiny copper penny. “I saw this on the way inside and thought it would bring good luck.”

I took the penny. “It will.” Then I faced the judge. “I’ve just been retained by Mr.…” I glanced at the kid.

“Duck. Oliver Duck,” the kid said.

I blinked. “Mr. Duck. He’ll be changing his plea, Judge.”

The judge looked relieved, and I swear a hint of respect shone in his eyes. Good. “Mr. Duck?”

Oliver looked at me before turning back to the judge. “I plead not-guilty?”

“Good.” The judge slammed down his gavel. “See you later.”

Oliver looked at me.

I smiled and tried to appear like I knew what I was doing. A notepad rested on the table, so I quickly wrote my name and number on the bottom edge and ripped it off. “Here you go. Give me a call later in the week, and we’ll figure things out. I can settle this one; I’m pretty sure.”

He took the ripped piece of paper and then grinned. “This is your business card?”

“For now,” I said, sharing his smile.

“Then you are the lawyer I can afford. Thanks, Anna. I’ll call you.” Looking much happier, he leaned over and wrote his number to hand over. “Here’s mine.” He turned and raced to the exit.

I pivoted to face Alice. “Seriously? What is wrong with you?” Her forced leave of absence had obviously gone to her head.

She rolled her eyes. “He destroyed property, Anna. The laws matter to some of us.”

Ouch. Fair enough.

I exited and went to retrieve my file folders and notes before the judge called our case.

Aiden reached up and kissed me. “You are such a softie.”

I rolled my eyes and motioned for Pucci to follow me to the defense table. I sat between him and the prosecuting attorney’s table.

The judge handed off case files to his clerk, who handed him a bigger one. “Let’s get this going. We’ll have the same jury pool from yesterday, and I’ll have them take seats in direct opposite of last time.”

Fourteen people filed into the seats in the jury box. In Idaho, a jury was usually on the hook for a week, so they might hear many cases. The clerk came over to my table and handed me the list of who was in which seat, and I rifled through my notes on the jury questionnaire while Alice did the same.

Voir dire went off without a hitch, and I started to enjoy myself. While I’d never been in trial, I’d actually won the mock trial at law school. The prize had been a mountain bike, which I’d given to Pauley because he’d been interested in mountain biking at that time.

Then we were to opening arguments, and Alice’s was good. She planted a nice question in the minds of the jury as to why a felon would own a survival business that included learning to shoot guns.

I stood up, introduced myself, and acted like my guy was a saint. I didn’t