Mark Gimenez - Accused

" Sharks? You see a shark?"

Five hundred yards due north, Scott, Karen, and Bobby were on the back deck. Bobby said, "Tell me they're not really going to try that."

They did. A big wave-for Galveston Beach-rose behind Carlos and Louis. They lay down on the boards and started paddling. When the wave was almost upon them, they squatted on the boards then… stood.

"I'll be damned. They're surfing."

They waved their arms wildly trying to maintain their balance on the boards, and they did-for about five seconds. Then the wave overcame them and sent them and their boards flying. They went under… and stayed under. Scott stood. Just when he was about to run down to the beach and play lifeguard, their boards surfaced, then Carlos popped up, followed by Louis. The waves rolled them ashore. They coughed sea water then struggled to their feet and looked at each other; then they smiled and high-fived. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" Carlos shouted.

"They're nuts," Karen said.

"Hank Herrin," Bobby said.

Karen stared at him with an incredulous expression. "And you are too if you think I'm naming our son Hank."

"I'm seeing a home run hitter."

"I'm seeing a guy with tattoos wearing a wife-beater T-shirt and spitting tobacco juice out the window of his pickup truck."

Bobby shrugged then turned to Scott. "I checked in with the answering service. The network morning shows called. They all want an interview with you and the Guilty Groupie."

"That's not gonna happen." Scott sat back down. "Okay, guys, we're on the clock. Four weeks till trial. Where do we stand?"

"Our strategy," Bobby said, "is to (a), explain why her prints are on the murder weapon, and (b), find out who killed Trey. Anything on (a)?"

"No. What about (b)?"

"The suspect list keeps getting longer," Karen said. She tapped on her laptop. "So far we have the construction workers, Goose, Brett McBride, Donnie Parker, Vic Hager, Pete Puckett, and Benito Estrada and the Muertos."

"Brett, Donnie, and Vic have alibis for that night, but anyone with a motive stays on the list. And I don't rate the construction workers very high, but I asked Carlos to go back to work there, see if he can get some information about the cocaine… if they stole it. Which would explain why Trey thought Benito cheated him."

"So that leaves Goose, Pete, and Benito and the Muertos."

"Goose's prints didn't match the ones on the kitchen counter."

"We need Pete's prints."

"I'll get them."

"So the prime suspects are the pro golfer who just won the U.S. Open, a Mexican drug cartel, and your ex-wife." Bobby unwrapped a piece of gum and popped it into his mouth. "Should've waited until after this case to quit smoking."

"I completed the asset searches on Trey and Rebecca," Karen said. "No surprises. Rebecca's got nothing except the Corvette. I got the subpoenas to Hank, he served them on Facebook and the cell phone carrier."

"Anything on the sister?" Bobby asked.

"No," Scott said. "But her lawyer, Melvyn Burke, he knows something."

"What?"

"I don't know. Terri won't waive the attorney-client privilege." To Karen: "What about the judge?"

"UT undergrad, dean's list, cheerleader. UT law school, graduated with honors. Private practice for ten years, then elected judge five years ago. No big cases."

"Until now. Pretrial motions?"

"I'm going to file a motion to exclude the crime scene photos as inflammatory. The D.A.'ll still get some in."

"Can we exclude evidence found at the house?"

"She called nine-one-one, invited them in, consented to a search. Even if she hadn't, it wasn't her house. And it was a crime scene, so that room was open to a search. But I'll still file a motion to suppress."

"What about the tox report? Did they have probable cause to draw her blood?"

"Probably not. I'll file a motion to exclude that, too."

There was an awkward moment of silence, then Scott said, "She's not an addict."

Scott gazed at Rebecca on the beach with the girls. She seemed like a girl herself, skipping through the surf, as if she were not soon to stand trial for murder.

"Has the possibility of life in prison registered yet?" Karen said.

Scott gestured down at the beach. "One day she's acting happy, talking about us getting back together… the next day she's on suicide watch. I don't get her."

"It's the cocaine," Bobby said.

"What cocaine?"

"Scotty, I represented users. I know the symptoms. Cycles of depression and euphoria, that's a cocaine user. She's using."

Scott shook his head. "She only used it a few times with Trey. She'd never use it around Boo. No way."

"Way." Bobby pointed to the beach. "Go down there and do a blood draw, I guarantee a tox screen would come back positive for cocaine."

"Where would she get it from? And how would she pay for it?"

"Scotty, you staying objective? About her?"

Think like a lawyer, not like a man.

"I found a polygraph guy," Karen said. "On Bolivar Peninsula, retired FBI. Is she willing to do it?"

Scott nodded.

"Are you worried?"

"She's not."

"It's the cocaine," Bobby said.

"Crack dealers," Pajamae said, "they killed this man down in the projects one day. Just walked up and shot him dead, right in front of everyone."

"Shit," Boo said. "I mean, damn. I mean, wow."

Scott had come upstairs to say goodnight to the girls. "Fear. They wanted to scare you."

"Well, Mr. Fenney, it worked."

"Why'd they kill the man?" Boo asked.

"He owed them money."

"Why didn't the dealers just hire a lawyer and sue him?"

"Boo, folks in the projects don't sue each other. Lawsuits are for white folks who don't have guns."

Boo nodded, as if Pajamae's statement made perfect sense.

"Nothing exciting like that ever happens in Highland Park. It's so boring."

"What do folks in Highland Park do for excitement?"

"Shop at Neiman Marcus mostly."

"Ain't no Neiman or Marcus in South Dallas."

"So what did you do for excitement down in the projects?"

"Walk outside."

Boo nodded then turned to Scott. "I saw something on TV this morning about Mother's boyfriend."

"Boo, I told you, when something about the case comes on, change the channel. There's a lot of stuff you don't need to know yet. "

"Stuff like her boyfriend used drugs?"

"Yes, stuff like that."

She hesitated, and Scott knew what her next question would be. She had to ask.

"Did mother use drugs, too?"

Before Rebecca had left them, whenever Boo had asked Scott tough questions like that, he had always answered like a lawyer: he had fudged the truth. But when he became her only parent, he had started answering her like a father instead. And so he answered her now. He lied.

"No."

An eleven-year-old girl needed to know the truth about sex but not that truth about her mother.

"Good." She seemed relieved. "So, if Mother doesn't go to that prison, is she coming home with us?"

"Do you want her back?"

"Did you come down here to get her back?"

"I came down here to defend your mother so she doesn't spend the rest of her life in prison for a crime she didn't commit."

"But you want to understand why she left us?"

"Yes."

"Because you blame yourself?"

"Yes."

"Which is why you won't ask Ms. Dawson out?"

"Yes."

Boo nodded. "I don't understand her either. Mother is a complicated person. But you two wouldn't get married again unless we all decide?"

"No. Never. We're a family. And a family makes decisions together."

"Good. Oh, A. Scott, there was a segment this morning about statins. I really think you should be on one. You're thirty-eight now."

"Boo, I know thirty-eight sounds really old to you, but it's not. I'm still a young man. I'm not going to die on you." He put a hand on each of their shoulders. "On either of you."