Bryce rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “But why kill her? So he got her pregnant? It’s not the end of the world.”
“Bryce, those pictures show Jacob molesting an unconscious girl. She couldn’t have possibly given consent, while Jacob appears to be in control of all his faculties. If he got her pregnant that night, he raped her. She could have put him in jail.” Morgan gestured to the phone sitting on Bryce’s desk. “Even if he didn’t kill Tessa, Jacob Emerson is a predator. This is a whole separate charge.”
Bryce’s jaw sawed back and forth, as if his molars—and brain—were grinding away at the evidence of Jacob’s crimes.
“The press would have a field day with those photos,” Morgan added.
Anger flared in Bryce’s eyes, but he blinked it away and leaned back. “I’ll have the police bring Jacob in for questioning and obtain his DNA.”
“I want the test expedited.”
Bryce shook his head. “I can’t promise that. Even a positive test doesn’t prove he killed her.”
“You already did it in this case,” Morgan argued. “The presence of lubricant proves that a condom was used the night of Tessa’s murder. Jacob could have raped and killed her without leaving his sperm behind.”
Bryce crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s a stretch.”
“So you’ll expedite the tests that put my client in jail, but you won’t do the same for the tests that might get him out? I will go to the press, Bryce. It won’t reflect well on you if you’re willing to let Nick rot in jail to protect a privileged, wealthy young man.”
“This won’t affect the grand jury hearing tomorrow. My evidence is solid. Your client will be indicted.” Bryce glared.
“We both know you’ll get your indictment because a grand jury hearing is completely one-sided. I don’t get to present evidence,” Morgan acknowledged. “Furthermore, we both know those pictures don’t have to prove Nick is innocent or that Jacob is guilty.” She stabbed the air in the direction of the phone. “Those photos are reasonable doubt.”
“I talked to Chief Horner today,” the DA said. “He said you want Dean Voss’s DNA tested as well. Grasping at straws, Morgan?”
“Not at all,” she answered. “Just conducting a thorough investigation.”
Lance felt the zing of that comment bounce around the room.
He admitted that the case had appeared pretty open-and-shut at the beginning. Originally, even he had thought Nick looked guilty. He’d lost faith in the criminal justice system over the years. Too many criminals walked on hard charges. But maybe this time the system would actually work the way it was intended.
Morgan’s body shifted forward an inch. “Did Chief Horner tell you about the accusations against Dean Voss last year? And that he was on the yearbook committee with Tessa?”
She never raised her voice, but her posture and tone had become commanding in a way he hadn’t expected. She slid into the offensive in a perfectly ladylike fashion. It was like watching Perry Mason disguised as Donna Reed. Lance imagined she often took opposing counsel by surprise.
“I’ll have the test expedited.” The DA’s eyes went flat. Clearly, he hadn’t expected Morgan’s direct attack either. “Be careful, Ms. Dane. You’re stirring up more than a few hornets’ nests. You’re bound to get stung.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Jail, day 5
Nick retrieved an evening chow tray from the cart. As he turned, Shorty gestured to him. Nick walked over, and Shorty motioned to the empty spot on the bench next to him. “You can eat here if you want.”
No one had bothered him much since his beating two days ago. Nick had added staying far away from cell doorways to his growing list of habits. He’d also spotted other blind spots and avoided them as well.
Nick sat down, hoping no one would attack him in full view of the surveillance cameras.
“I’m not that hungry. You want an extra biscuit?” Shorty asked.
Nick hesitated. Trying to analyze the subtext was giving him a headache. If he took the biscuit, did he owe Shorty something in return? If he didn’t take the offer, would Shorty be offended?
If there was one thing he’d learned since he’d arrived here, it was that jail operated on a system of respect. The worst thing a man could do was show disrespect to another. Every man had a place on the hierarchy, a spot he’d earned. Insults, even perceived ones, threatened that established pecking order.
Chaos resulted.
Plus, Nick figured if he stuck with honesty, he wouldn’t have to remember what he’d said. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t help but wonder why you’re making it. If I accept it, does that leave me with any obligation?”
Shorty tossed the biscuit onto Nick’s tray. “You’re a smart kid. We trade food all the time, but this is a one-time peace offering.”
Spurning the biscuit would be offensive and signal that Nick held a grudge. Had the beatdown been a test?
“In that case, I accept,” Nick said. The meatloaf tasted like cardboard, but hunger drove him to eat every bite. At home, he would have bypassed the soggy green beans, but today Nick ate every scrap of food on his plate.
The two guys on the opposite side of the table joked between themselves. They didn’t give Nick a second look. He realized that he was no longer being eyeballed. Had he passed whatever test he’d been put through?
They finished eating, shoveling their food with the concentration of the perpetually hungry.
Shorty lowered his voice. “Do you have your PIN yet?”
Nick shook his head. He was still waiting to be issued his prisoner personal identification number, which he would need to do everything from make phone calls to purchase items at the commissary.
“That sucks,” Shorty said. “We’re making a spread tonight. I could spot you.”
A spread was a meal the inmates put together with food they’d purchased from the commissary like tuna, ramen, coffee, and candy. Nick had watched them have one the first night he’d been here.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather wait until I can contribute. I don’t want to mooch.” Nick had already seen one man smacked around for welshing on a debt.
Shorty nodded. “Next time.”
Nick wandered to the chess players and watched two games. Neither of the players was very good. Nick could have wiped the board with either of them, but he thought that wouldn’t be the best idea. Still unsure about his status, he remained a silent observer, limiting his involvement to a low-key congrats to the winner.