The Man She Once Knew by Jean Brashear Page B

Callie. I don’t need you.”
    That stung. Even though it might be true. “Your mother does.”
    He tensed more, if such a thing was possible. He faced her, though his reluctance was visible. “Don’t take her house. Please.” The appeal seemed dragged from deep within. “She’s done nothing to deserve this. I can’t—” He closed his eyes briefly. “I can’t pay you now, but I’ll have another job in prison. I won’t earn much, but I’ll send you everything I make.”
    This was excruciating for both of them. “Don’t, David. You don’t have to—” Beg . It was awful to see him reduced to this. “I won’t put her out of her house. I promise.”
    She saw the relief settle over him.
    “Thank you,” he said quietly.
    “But she’s worried about you. And frankly, so am I.”
    His back went ramrod stiff again. “I can take care of myself.”
    “What happened last night?” Something was off, she could feel it.
    “Just a fight.”
    “From what I gather, the other guy wasn’t alone. Who is this Mickey Patton to you?”
    “No one.”
    She waited, but nothing else was forthcoming. “I’m going to check into this.”
    His head whipped around, his green eyes hard. “Don’t check. Don’t do anything. Stay the hell out of my life.”
    “You can’t stop me. I want to help you, David.” It was a way to make amends for the past.
    “You can’t.” He walked to the door and banged on it with his bound hands. “I’m done here,” he said when the door opened.

CHAPTER SEVEN

    T HE COURT-APPOINTED ATTORNEY , Randy Capwell, was still wet behind the ears. Callie had reserved judgment until meeting him, had even waited to question his handling of David’s injuries, not wanting to start out on the wrong foot.
    She wasn’t impressed.
    Oh, he was pleasant enough and meant well, she thought as she sat in the chair he’d hastily cleared of a toppling stack of files. Not that any of this was her business, according to David.
    If she had any sense, she’d listen to him. He’d killed a man, after all. Clearly he still seethed beneath his skin. Usually, she wouldn’t have given a second thought to putting someone with David’s history back in prison, knowing society was safer with him locked up.
    But there was that angel.
    “Who is your investigator?” she asked.
    “I don’t have one. Yet,” he hastily added.
    “But you will? Who do you normally use?”
    She listened as he fumbled over a list of names, but she wasn’t buying. “Have you filed any motions yet?”
    “Ms. Hunter, I just got the case.”
    “But motions for discovery are standard. In David’s case, a motion to suppress anything related to his prior conviction has to be top of the list, as well. Change of venue, based on his situation, is also advisable, don’t you agree?”
    A small frown. “Of course.” But his expression told her he didn’t know why seeking to keep the people of Oak Hollow off the jury was critical.
    She’d listened to him a little while longer, tried to restrain the worst of the ruthlessness her concern for David provoked. It was obvious, however, that Capwell knew only what she did thus far, that the intricacies of David’s situation were completely unknown to him and that he was severely overworked, as many public defenders were.
    He intended to do his best, she believed that, but he was not the representation David needed. Still, he was a potential source of information, so she eased up on him.
    “Thank you for seeing me when you’re so busy.”
    “I’m happy to,” he said with typical Southern hospitality. “I will know his case very soon, I promise.” He glanced apologetically at the files stacked all around his tiny office.
    “My first office at the D.A.’s wasn’t any bigger, and our caseloads can get overwhelming. I understand.” She did, but it was hard to ignore the gnawing in her belly over what he could realistically do for David, given the resources at hand.
    One thing that she did learn