"The trial was just like that. It was an assignment for a litigation skills class. I'd already decided I wanted to be a transactional attorney and make the big bucks with minimal effort. No court time or anything. But then I saw this trial and I was hooked."
"What case?"
"Oh, I, uh, it was State versus someone or other." I shrugged and finally turned my gaze out the front windshield, the miles melting away in a blur of speed. I was lying. I would sound like a total stalker if I recited every detail of the trial-which I knew by heart.
"I'm pretty sure all criminal trials are State versus someone or other." He shifted in his seat the slightest bit, turning his attention on me. "Let's see. You graduated last year, so your second summer-hmm. I remember trying a case that summer. Sutter-charged with murder. Ring a bell?"
"That might have been it. I don't really remember details." My fingers fidgeted with each other, as if dying to escape and make another lewd hand gesture.
"Let's see, yeah, he was involved in a drug deal gone bad. His supplier was shot through the forehead with a .22. He was the likeliest suspect, so he got popped." He smiled, even sexier with the sunglasses, but the dimples weren't making an appearance. Not yet.
Heat rushed along my skin, racing to the juncture of my thighs. "That may have been it."
"May have or was?" His voice was incisive.
He was cross-examining me. Is it wrong that it turned me on to an alarming degree? "It was."
"That's what I thought. Now, if I remember correctly, I tried that case alone, didn't I? No co-counsel?"
"I don't remember." I squirmed at the lie.
"Come now, Ms. Montreat. Surely you can remember the case that you say is the very reason you took a job at my firm." He had me. His tone, silky and oh-so-reasonable, told me he knew he had me. I knew that tone, remembered it from the very trial we were discussing. It had hypnotized me, put me under Washington Granade's spell.
Now I wanted him under mine. I tried a new tactic. Offense. I shifted back toward him and pretended to have noticed some lint on my top. I slid my lapel back and brushed my hand over the swell of my breast while letting my legs open the slightest bit because I was distracted.
"Lint everywhere. I swear my dry cleaners are out to get me." I looked up, and he faced forward, eyes on the road, both hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.
I took the chance to finish my interrogation the way I wanted. "But yes, I enjoyed the trial. I thought the State's attorney, Matt Turnbull, wasn't that his name? Anyway, I thought he really did a great job with the State's case. Even though he lost, I think he was just so eloquent and prepared. Really a great attorney. I was so impressed that I wanted to do criminal work."
"Yeah, Matt." A muscle ticked in his jaw.
I wanted him to call me out on the lie, maybe pull over and spank me-if I was going to dream, I was going to dream big. Instead, he turned the radio up a few clicks and schooled his features. He was the Hardass again. At least I'd rattled him a bit and gotten him to stop cross-examining me. He was tenacious, but I didn't want to show all my cards, and did I mention I was competitive?
We rode the rest of the way in silence. I had a million more questions, but I tried to channel Terrell and keep them to myself.
When we finally arrived at the front gate of the prison, the sun was high. Guard towers flanked the entrance, though I didn't see anyone inside them. We pulled to a stop under an awning, and Mr. Granade rolled down his window to speak to the guard at what looked like a tollbooth.
Once assured we were legit attorneys, not ex-cons with their hearts set on a prison break, the guard waved us through to the main building.
"Stay close to me. Don't wander off. Don't speak to any of the inmates. Can you do that?" Mr. Granade stowed his glasses in the console.
"Yes."
He turned to me, sternness and something else-worry?-written on his face. "Just keep your eyes open. These guys are contained, but it's still a complex filled with violent people, okay? So stay close. Promise me you will."
"Okay. I promise." I was at one and the same time thrilled that he cared but worried that I would get jumped Shawshank style.
I got out, and he joined me as we walked up to the building. He kept his hand at my lower back as we went inside. It wasn't exactly professional, but I wasn't about to complain. His warning had gotten my radar pinging like crazy. I kept looking for shivs made from toothbrushes-and that was just on the guards. I had no idea what I'd do when I saw the actual inmates.