Nothing But the Truth Read Free Page A

the big screen. Brett spotted the cryptic e-mail she had received earlier and typed her reply:

    My office tried to call you to schedule an appointment, but no one answered. I’m in the office if you want to call me. It would help if you could tell me more about your situation so I’ll be prepared when we talk. Brett.

    She hit send and reached for the waiting cup of coffee. Seconds later, a pop-up announced she had new mail.

    Thanks. Don’t want to give more details this way. I will call you but would prefer to do it later. Cell number?

    Brett read the new message and paused before answering. She used to give out her cell phone number to anyone who asked, but clients with the inability to distinguish between a true emergency and the mere need to chat had disrupted her beauty sleep on one too many occasions. Years of disrupted personal moments had driven her to use an answering service for after-hour callers. She still returned calls at all hours, but the service minimized the interruption to her evenings.
    Brett reread the e-mail. Something about the enigmatic e-mailer sparked her curiosity. Against her better judgment, she typed: Okay. Call me on cell—see number below. Brett and hit send.

    *

    No sooner had Brett drifted off to dreamland, than her infernal BlackBerry skittered across her nightstand. Brett shook herself awake and focused her sleepy eyes on the display. She didn’t recognize the number. She was ready to hit the ignore button when she remembered the e-mail from earlier in the day. She punched the talk button. “Brett Logan speaking.”
    “I e-mailed you.”
    “Ah, I thought this might be you. What can I do for you?” Brett reached into the nightstand for one of the stack of small notepads she kept ready to record middle of the night thoughts and calls such as this.
    “My son is in trouble. He needs a lawyer.” The voice was gruff.
    “Well, you called the right place. What’s your name?”
    “Do I have to tell you?”
    “It would help if I had something to call you. How did you get my name?” Tony was forever on her to ask how her clients found her so he could keep track for marketing purposes, but Brett’s question was posed purely out of curiosity.
    “Friends. I don’t want them to know about my son’s trouble.”
    “Okay. What kind of trouble is he in?” Brett waited for what was sure to be a tale of a juvenile prank gone awry.
    “He murdered someone and he wants to confess.”

Chapter Three

    I must be crazy for wanting to run this office. Ryan reached into her desk drawer and felt for the bottle she kept hidden behind a sheaf of papers. County employees were not allowed to have alcohol in the building, but for years the district attorney kept his personal office stocked with a full bar complete with heavy crystal glasses. Ryan reasoned her pint-sized bottle of Scotch and paper cups were a warm-up to when she took over his position.
    She would need a bigger bottle if she had more days like this one. Jeff, a prosecutor she respected, had no doubt told everyone who would listen about her power grab this morning. She could tell by the many whispered conversations that died off as she approached that her reputation as a power-hungry bitch was intact. She had no idea how she was going to be an effective leader if everyone in the office resented her. Ryan drank deeply from her paper tumbler and, as the amber liquid burned a path through her stress, she resolved to have a long talk with her boss about the method behind his plan to bring her to power.
    Ryan turned to the boxes piled beside her desk and combed through the evidence in the Edwards case. No wonder Jeff was angry. He had put together a rock solid case. All she had to do was show up and win. She was relieved she wouldn’t have to start from scratch, especially since she was too keyed up this night to focus on the documents in front of her. Agitation twitched through her and she recognized the source. She would need more than