schedule with the attorneys who rely on my services on a regular basis. And my wife will need a little notice that I’m going to be out of pocket.”
“Married, huh?” Cory asked. “Never would’ve pegged you for the marrying kind.”
Skye’s grin lit up the room. “Not only married, but starting a family. Aimee’s in her third trimester. You should know that a phone call from her is going to trump anything else for the next ten weeks.”
Cory’s smile was genuine. “Congratulations! You should definitely talk to her since there could be some out of town travel involved. Some of the trial witnesses have scattered to the wind and, of course, you’ll need to visit Eric at Huntsville.” Cory made a note on the pad in front of her. “The clinic has all the current contact info for the witnesses in their file, and we’ll get you a copy of all the police reports.”
Serena watched their easy exchange with a mixture of envy. Marriage, pregnancy, relationships. The ease with which they discussed these topics stung. She’d never pictured herself in their place, blithely discussing happily ever afters. She asked a question to bring things back to reality. “What’s your rate and how much of a retainer do you need?”
Skye drummed her fingers on the table and cocked her head, as if considering the question. “I usually charge a hundred dollars an hour for in-town work and extra for travel. As for the retainer, it’s hard to tell at this point. I’ll need to review what your attorneys have compiled and work out a game plan. Why don’t I make those calls I mentioned, get with Cory to review the evidence you have, and I’ll put together a strategy that will include an estimate of the work that needs to be done? That should take about half a day and you can pay me in advance for that.”
Skye sounded professional, thorough, and more than competent. Cory obviously trusted her and, despite a nagging sense she didn’t have enough information to draw this conclusion, Serena trusted Cory. She pulled a checkbook from her purse and scrawled out a check for five hundred dollars. She stood and handed the check to Skye. “I guess you better start making those calls.” She turned to Cory. “Ready?”
Cory answered her loaded question with a loaded answer. “If you are.”
She nodded, knowing she was agreeing to way more than leaving the bar.
*
Cory assumed the role of GPS and directed Serena through the crowded Dallas streets. Melinda had left a voice message on her cell to say she was stuck in a deposition. If she went back to the clinic now, she’d have to find a ride home, a situation Melinda clearly hadn’t contemplated when she’d dropped her off this morning. She could take a cab, but the cross-town ride would cost a fortune. Who was she kidding? Saving money wasn’t the reason she was pointing out the route to her house. She’d hardly had a moment alone with Serena and she craved the connection that coursed between them during the few short seconds in the bar.
Madness. She spent her entire career as a prosecutor vigilantly guarding all aspects of her personal life. Unlisted phone number, stellar security system. She didn’t participate in the frenzy of social media that had overtaken the rest of mankind. And her employer supported her desire for privacy. The DA’s office had an agreement with the local papers—no photos would accompany news articles about current cases. The very last thing she would have done as a prosecutor would be to invite a defendant over to her house.
But Serena wasn’t a defendant, and Cory was hard-pressed to even see her as the family of a defendant. Fragile, yet steeled. Intelligent, yet naive. Serena was a victim in her own right. If her brother was a killer, she was burdened with his evil deeds. If he wasn’t, she was burdened with guilt for his mislaid penance. Either way, Cory cared. Cared that Serena hurt, admired the courage it took to ask for help, and she
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