“That sounds like a good plan. Keep her happy, Crey. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Creighton starts to say something else, but I’m sure it’s just going to be more orders, so I hang up. When my phone doesn’t start ringing again immediately, I count myself lucky. Being Creighton Karas’s little sister isn’t the easiest thing in the world, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
The drive out to Rikers is long enough to set my nerves on edge, especially as we approach the prison. There’s a really good reason I didn’t go into criminal defense, namely, the criminals. So, why did I grab the damn file? I could have left it and never worried about it again. The firm would have had me withdrawn from the case, and I could have tried out carefree trust-fund princess as a job title. But apparently that’s not something I’m capable of.
I’m cursing my decision as we work our way through security, and then again as I wait alone in the interview area. Creighton’s going to be pissed if he learns the guards won’t let Ed inside the room for the interview because he doesn’t have proper clearance in advance. Let’s hope Ed decides to leave that fact out of his report to Creighton. A guard stands not more than six feet away, so I take comfort in that.
But when Stephen Cardelli steps into the interview room in shackles, my heart rate picks up. I can do this. I can do this. I’m on his side. He’s not going to hurt me.
There’s something about his self-satisfied smile that instantly makes me feel dirty. Swallowing back the fear, I stand and nod.
“Mr. Cardelli. Thank you for agreeing to sit down with me to discuss your case. I apologize for not getting here sooner.”
“If I’d known you were such a sweet young thing, I’d have been a hell of a lot more interested in talking to my lawyer.”
Deep breaths. Be professional, Greer. I flip open my file and read through issues enumerated in his complaint.
“Can you tell me, in your own words, more about the issues you’re claiming impinge on your constitutional rights?”
He smiles again, his teeth yellow and brown near the edges, and his greasy gray hair falling over his forehead. “Let’s talk about the fact that I didn’t commit the murder they say I did. I was framed. And you’re going to get me out of here.”
Uh, nope. I certainly would not be doing that.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cardelli, this is not an Innocence Project case. You filed a prisoners’ rights complaint and that’s what I’m here about. If you think you’ve been wrongfully convicted, I can give you information about the Innocence Project and they may be able to help you. In the meantime, perhaps we can help you win this case and make your life a little more palatable inside these walls.”
His smile morphs into an angry glare that’s fierce enough to scare the living hell out of me. “If you think there’s jack shit you can do to make life inside palatable, then you’re dead fucking wrong, girl. You want to hear the real story?”
“Sir, I understand you must be very frustrated, but I’m limited to the case before me.”
“Well, listen the fuck up, bitch. You’re gonna do what I tell you.” He stands and the guard is by his side within seconds, hands on his shoulders, slamming him back into the chair.
“Sit the fuck down, Cardelli, or this interview is over.”
Cardelli bares his teeth like an animal, and I’m doubly glad this case has nothing to do with getting him out of here.
“Fine. Get the guards to stop shoving their batons up my fucking ass, and maybe it’ll be a little more fucking palatable.”
“Done, Cardelli. You’re fucking done.” The guard yanks him out of his seat and drags him toward the door.
I’m pretty sure the guard shouldn’t be allowed to do that because this is a meeting with counsel, but at the moment, I’m not moved to protest. I’m in over my head and I know it.
Work through the fear, Greer. Pull up your big-girl panties and step outside your little bubble of a world to do something for someone who doesn’t have anyone else fighting for him.
Why couldn’t I have some kind of battered-woman case? Someone I feel sympathy for? Someone who doesn’t scare the shit out of me?
Maybe this is some sort of a test. Maybe this is exactly what I need. Penance for the stupid stunt I pulled that cost me my job in the ivory tower.
When the guard returns, my hands are still shaking as I shove papers back into my file.
“Sorry about that, Ms. Karas. He’s not a good one. You might want to hand this case off to someone else. Don’t think this is right for you.”
The guard’s patronizing attitude pisses me off, and quite frankly, makes me all the more determined not to give it up.
“Thank you for your concern, but I’m a professional. I’m more than capable of handling this case.”
“What would your brother say about that?”
Oh. No. He. Didn’t.