Page 26 of Legal Passion
CHAPTER EIGHT
STONEFLINCHEDASthe door closed behind him, locking him inside the Tombs just like his client. The Tombs was slang for the Manhattan Detention Complex where defendants were held awaiting trial.
No matter how many times Stone visited jail or prison, he never got used to it. Maybe that was because he’d started visiting jails and prisons when he was too young—when his parents had gone in and out of them, serving time for dealing drugs.
His mother had cried every time, apologizing and swearing that she would change her ways. But she never had. And sick of her broken promises, Stone had saved them both the trouble of her making any more.
Once they’d gotten him out of foster care, after serving another jail term, he had run away. And he’d never intended to wind up in jail like them. But here he was.
He was just visiting, though. It was his client who might wind up staying there. Byron Mueller must have realized that as well, because he looked like hell. Maybe it was because he couldn’t dye his hair and tan in jail, but he looked old, pale and fragile now.
Like a broken man...
Hillary Bellows might have broken Mueller. But she wouldn’t break Stone.
“Why’d you do it?” Stone asked. “Why’d you pay the alibi witness?”
“I told you,” Byron said, “I gave Scooter money all the time. He’s my son’s best friend. They’ve been friends since they were little.”
“You gave him some money,” Stone agreed. He’d used that argument in court to refute Hillary’s claims. But now he argued her side of it, using her words. “But never that amount. That one amount is more than all the other payouts to him combined. And the timing...”
The big transfer had happened right after Scooter had come forward to the police.
He shook his head. “It looks bad.”
“It’s your job to fix that,” Byron said. “Hell, you never should have let the prosecution get a subpoena for those records in the first place.”
She hadn’t needed it. Those records had been handed to her. But he couldn’t admit that or Byron would fire him for sure. Stone had tried to get them thrown out, though.
The judge had ignored his request, as he’d ignored most of his requests. That was why Stone was losing—because of Judge Harrison.
Not Hillary.
As if Byron had read his mind, he said, “She’s getting to you.”
“What?”
“I see the way you look at her,” Byron said. “It’s the same way I used to look at Bethany.”
Stone shook his head, unwilling to admit what he knew was the truth. Maybe he had more in common with the billionaire than he’d thought.
The older man uttered a heavy sigh. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one looking at Bethany that way.”
“Who was he?” Stone asked. “Who was she sleeping with?”
Byron shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Did Hillary? Was she going to spring that on him, too? She knew Byron’s young wife had had a lover. She’d used that as his motive for killing her. And it had worked well.
Her case was strong. But she was going to rest it soon and then Stone would have the chance to present his defense. But he needed help and not from those stupid press releases McCann and Simon had issued.
He needed help from his client. “If I’m going to help you, you have to tell me everything,” Stone urged him. “I know you’re holding back.”
On the identity of his wife’s lover. And on the reason he’d paid Scooter such a large sum. Stone could have called Byron’s son to the stand to back up the alibi, but Hillary would more than rattle that nervous young man. She’d destroy him on the cross-examination.
“If you’re going to help me, you have to stop letting the sexy little assistant district attorney distract you,” Byron said as he stood and motioned for the guard to open the door. “You think I paid Scooter a lot? I’ll pay you another million—two million total—in addition to your other fees, if you prove my innocence.”
That was what had convinced Stone that the man wasn’t guilty. He’d never asked Stone to get him off or help him get away with murder. He’d always asked him to prove his innocence. He was innocent.
