The Man She Once Knew by Jean Brashear Page A

felt naked without her briefcase or a proper set of files. Her trim black suit had helped bolster the image of a high-powered attorney, and she would build on that to handle this surreal situation.
    The sound of the door opening had her turning.
    Then she gasped and whipped her gaze to the deputy. “Has he had medical attention?”
    “We’re waiting on the doc,” the man said, abashed. “Prisoners don’t get priority, I’m afraid.”
    “He should be in the emergency room. This is a violation of his civil rights.” She could not believe these words were coming out of her mouth—she’d derided defense attorneys often for the phrase that so easily raised her hackles.
    “We’ve had a paramedic look him over. The hospital isn’t set up to provide the security needed for dangerous prisoners.”
    Callie glanced at David. His face was stony, his eyes staring at the wall.
    “This is inexcusable.” It was. Stoic or not, David was clearly in pain. “We can file a suit on the county for this mistreatment.”
    “There’s only four docs over at the clinic, see, and they stay real busy. One of them will be here soon. He’s in no danger.”
    “Has his attorney been to see him?”
    “Yes.”
    Right then, Callie made up her mind to meet the man and check him out.
    “Leave it,” David said, jaw tight. Color stained his cheeks.
    Callie forced herself to chill out. Getting on the wrong side of the deputy would only rebound on David. “I appreciate whatever you can manage, Deputy,” she said as warmly as she could.
    “I can give you thirty minutes, ma’am,” he said.
    “Thank you.”
    He hesitated. “You sure about this?” His suspicious glance at David was telling.
    “I’ll be fine.”
    “I’ll be right outside.”
    She counted to three, seeking patience. “Thank you.” When the man finally left, the silence in the room was a living presence.
    As was David’s resentment.
    “He thinks I should be afraid of you,” she said, for lack of a better opening.
    “You should.” David still didn’t look at her.
    She walked closer. “How badly are you hurt?”
    “I’m okay.” His pallor said otherwise, as did how stiffly he held himself.
    Obviously it was up to her to generate conversation. She decided to go for shock value. “Why, David?”
    One quick glance. “Why what?”
    She had so many questions, too many for thirty minutes. For this cramped room. “You’re not stupid. I have to believe there’s more to the story. I don’t buy that you would try to kill another man when you just got out of prison.”
    A muscle jumped in his jaw. “It’s none of your business.”
    “Your mother thinks otherwise. She was banging on my door first thing this morning, begging me to help you.”
    “I don’t need your help.”
    “I beg to differ.” She scanned him carefully. “Whoever this attorney is, he’s not doing his job.”
    “Not much for him to do. They’ve got me convicted already.”
    “Then you need a better lawyer.”
    At last he looked at her. “You volunteering?”
    Their eyes locked, and for a second, she could barely breathe for the memories that flooded her, all the ways those green eyes had looked at her in the past. “I’m not licensed in this state.”
    He visibly withdrew. “Doesn’t matter. My guilt’s a foregone conclusion.”
    There was fury writhing beneath the surface resignation, she could feel it. “Your mother is convinced you’re innocent.”
    A mocking smile. “Do I look innocent?”
    “You look beaten half to death. David…” She approached him then.
    He sidestepped her, making his distaste clear.
    Fine. They’d been at cross-purposes since the moment she’d come back.
    But she didn’t understand why, and she needed to. A wooden angel wouldn’t leave her mind.
    You owe him.
    She tried again. “David, I didn’t handle all of it well when—” she swallowed “—when our baby died.”
    Pain chased over his features, but quickly he mastered it. “Just go away,