Falling Fast (Falling Fast #1) - Tina Wainscott Page 0,75
gave Mia a firm handshake. “I’m Grace. Please, come back.”
“Call me Mia, please.”
She was much prettier than Mia had imagined, but everything about her screamed competent, all-business, classy, and tenacious. Grace’s linen pants swished as she walked unerringly down the hall in five-inch heels. Her long brown hair fell in shiny waves halfway down her back.
They sat at a richly appointed wood table in a conference room. Grace already had a folder with Raleigh’s name on it. “Raleigh is being booked now. I’m pressing the right to a ‘speedy trial,’ and the prosecutor promises to decide on charges within a couple of hours. Then he’ll be arraigned, and hopefully given bail. He’s not a flight risk, nor is he a danger to himself or others.” She flipped her wrist to check a gold-and-diamond watch. “I should be able to meet with him in twenty minutes, then I’ll be present during interrogation.”
“Interrogation,” Mia repeated. “I imagine a light glaring into his face, hours of grueling questioning.”
“It won’t be like that, not with me there.” She pushed a sheaf of papers at Mia. “My retainer is twenty thousand.” She went down the list of hourly rates and typical court costs as Mia caught her breath. “Is that acceptable?”
“Yes.” Mia pulled out a checkbook and wrote the check. “I’m going to see about starting a legal fund.”
“That’s a great idea. Now, tell me how you’re involved in this.”
Mia gave her a synopsis of their earlier relationship, including Raleigh’s racing conviction.
Grace frowned as she jotted that down. “That’s not good. On the upside, it has nothing to do with the kind of violent charge he’s facing now.” She sat back in her chair. “Go on.”
Mia finished with their present-day situation, leaving out the more intimate details.
“Aw, that’s damned sweet,” Grace said, making one last note. “Sad, but sweet. You two have some pretty shitty luck.” Now fully engaged, she seemed to let her southern, er, slang slip into her voice.
“Shitty luck about sums it up.” Mia was beginning to feel a bone-deep weariness at fate kicking her in the ribs.
“Let me tell you what we’re up against. Sullivan has a propensity to home in on a target and stick like a tick. Given his personal history with Raleigh, I’m going to push the state attorney for a change of venue. But don’t count on that happening, since it doesn’t sound like there’s any proof of this supposed affair between the sheriff’s wife and Raleigh’s father. Right now they have two connections between suspect and victim. It’s enough to charge him, but it may not be enough to push it to trial.”
“If it does go that far, is that enough to convict him?”
“Depends on the jury. And, as you probably know if you watch the news, juries are unpredictable beasts. Locals may remember the crash. They may judge him because of his background.”
The churning in Mia’s gut reminded her of when she was battling cancer. The what-ifs. The possible outcomes and the effort it would take to achieve a good one.
Grace pushed to her feet. “I’m heading over. You work on the fund. I’ll call you later.” She led Mia to the front door but paused. “There’s one aspect of this case that’s real ugly. If you’re going to stand by your man, you’d better know what it is. Because once it gets out people are either going to side with Raleigh or think he’s a monster.”
Chapter 14
Grace Parnell apparently had some sway in moving the proceedings along quickly. Raleigh only knew her as a customer at the garage. She had one of the last T-Bird model years, a light blue convertible she called Birdie. Whenever she picked it up, she always asked him what he’d done, musing that if she ever had time she was going to learn to service her own car. “Nothing personal,” she’d say. “It’s a control thing.”
Imagining the classy lady in a skirt suit digging around in the engine seemed odd, but apparently she’d been pretty wild in her day. At least, from what Raleigh had heard. She’d graduated long before him and gone off to college, so he hadn’t really known her.
“Your lawyer is here,” Cassidy said, unlocking the cell he’d gleefully placed Raleigh in after the humiliation of being photographed for his mug shot and fingerprinted…again. Even more gleefully, he dangled the cuffs. “Remember that she lost her last case, the guy who was convicted of murdering his wife with a baseball bat. So don’t go getting cocky