“May I help you?” a female voice asked.
Mike turned and faced a lanky young woman with sandy hair who looked like a high school intern spending part of her senior year at the courthouse.
“Is Ken West in?” Mike asked.
“No, the rest of the staff is at a training session in Raleigh,” she said with an accent that revealed mountain roots. “I’m Melissa Hall, one of the assistant district attorneys. Would you like to leave a message?”
Mike introduced himself.
“Maybe you can help me. Are you familiar with the Sam Miller case?”
“Do you have a case number?”
“No, but I know it’s an embezzlement charge.”
“I’ll check his name on the computer.”
Hall leaned over the computer at the receptionist’s desk.
“Here it is,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “The case has been assigned to me.”
“Have you done any investigation?” Mike asked.
Hall looked up. “We don’t charge someone with a crime unless there has been an investigation.”
Mike managed a smile. “I meant subsequent to any reports from the police.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“He’s asked me to help him.”
“Have you filed a notice of representation?”
“No.”
Hall closed the computer screen. “Then I can’t give you any information.”
Mike kept his voice calm. “I thought Ken might give me an off-the-record perspective on the case. If you don’t feel comfortable pulling the file and talking to me, it can wait until he gets back.”
“I’ve only been here six months and would prefer that Mr. West make that decision.”
Mike handed her his card. “I understand. This is my number at the church. Ask Ken to give me a call.”
Hall took the card and looked at it. “You’re a minister?”
“Yes, but I practiced law for ten years. Maxwell Forrest and Bobby Lambert were my partners.”
“I’ll give Mr. West your card.”
Mike left the courthouse satisfied. Hall had given him important information about the case without meaning to. The fact that Ken West had assigned Sam’s case to a neophyte lawyer was positive. The weakest and least serious cases flowed downhill to the junior prosecutors.
Mike drove to the jail. He waited in the hallway while an officer brought Sam from the cell block. The older man wasn’t smiling. When he came closer, Mike could see a splotchy red mark on the side of Sam’s face. They went into an interview room.
“What happened to your face?”
“I turned my back on a new cell mate, and he knocked me down.”
“Why?”
“He found something missing from his personal stuff and started swinging. Everyone scattered, but I moved too slow, and he caught me square in the head. I hit the floor and everything went fuzzy. When I came around, some of the other fellows in the cell had grabbed him. The guards got there and dragged him out. He was kicking, screaming, and biting. I didn’t think about trying to help him until he was gone.”
“What could you have done to help him?”
“I’m not sure, but the Master can still calm a storm.”
“Listen, jail is a dangerous place,” Mike said, thinking of Danny Brewster. “Don’t have some idealistic notion that you’re going to save everyone in your cell block. Keep your eyes open, and watch your back. How does your face feel?”
“About like it looks,” Sam said with a grimace. “Don’t say anything to Muriel. She’s worried enough as it is.”
“Did you see a doctor?”
“Nope, but it hurts to chew.”
“Your jaw could be fractured.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, you need to get it checked out. They should take you to the emergency room for an X-ray. I’ll speak to the officer on duty before I leave.”
“Does that mean you’re going to be my lawyer?”
“For now.”
Mike placed a blank legal pad on the table and told about his meeting with the elders and their decision.
“Thanks for going to all that trouble,” Sam replied. “I know how tough it can be getting Papa’s family to agree.”
“And you understand this is a temporary situation?”
“Yep. Everything this side of glory is temporary.”
Mike stared at Sam for a moment. “Do you believe the Lord has shown you anything about the criminal charge?”
“Nope. Everything has been about helping the men in here and getting to know you. The rest is like the guy who hit me yesterday, a blow out of the blue.”
“Do you want me to request a protective transfer to a solitary confinement cell?”