I can’t defend Ashley Patterson.
David pressed down the intercom button. “Holly, would you ask Mr. Kincaid if he can see me now?”
“Yes, sir.”
Thirty minutes later, David was walking into the elaborate offices of Joseph Kincaid. Kincaid was in his sixties, a gray monochrome of a man, physically, mentally and emotionally.
“Well,” he said as David walked in the door, “you’re an anxious young fellow, aren’t you? Our meeting wasn’t supposed to be until five o’clock.”
David approached the desk. “I know. I came here to discuss something else, Joseph.”
Years ago, David had made the mistake of calling him Joe, and the old man had had a fit. “Don’t you ever call me Joe.”
“Sit down, David.”
David took a seat.
“Cigar? They’re from Cuba.”
“No, thanks.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Dr. Steven Patterson was just in to see me.”
Kincaid said, “He was on the news this morning. Damned shame. What did he want with you?”
“He asked me to defend his daughter.”
Kincaid looked at David, surprised. “You’re not a criminal defense lawyer.”
“I told him that.”
“Well, then.” Kincaid was thoughtful for a moment. “You know, I’d like to get Dr. Patterson as a client. He’s very influential. He could bring a lot of business to this firm. He has connections with several medical organizations that—”
“There’s more.”
Kincaid looked at David, quizzically. “Oh?”
“I promised him I’d talk to his daughter.”
“I see. Well, I suppose there’s no harm in that. Talk to her, and then we’ll find a good defense attorney to represent her.”
“That’s my plan.”
“Good. We’ll be building up some points with him. You go ahead.” He smiled. “I’ll see you at five o’clock.”
“Right. Thank you, Joseph.”
As David walked back to his office, he wondered to himself, Why in the world would Dr. Patterson insist on having me represent his daughter?
Chapter Twelve
AT the Santa Clara County Jail, Ashley Patterson sat in her cell, too traumatized to try to make sense of how she got there. She was fiercely glad that she was in jail because the bars would keep out whoever was doing this to her. She wrapped the cell around herself like a blanket, trying to ward off the awful, inexplicable things that were happening to her. Her whole life had become a screaming nightmare. Ashley thought of all the mysterious events that had been happening: Someone breaking into her apartment and playing tricks on her…the trip to Chicago…the writing on her mirror…and now the police accusing her of unspeakable things she knew nothing about. There was some terrible conspiracy against her, but she had no idea who could be behind it or why.
Early that morning one of the guards had come to Ashley’s cell. “Visitor.”
The guard had led Ashley to the visitors’ room, where her father was waiting for her.
He stood there, looking at her, his eyes grief stricken. “Honey…I don’t know what to say.”
Ashley whispered, “I didn’t do any of the terrible things they said I did.”
“I know you didn’t. Someone’s made an awful mistake, but we’re going to straighten everything out.”
Ashley looked at her father and wondered how she could have ever thought he was the guilty one.
“…don’t you worry,” he was saying. “Everything’s going to be fine. I am getting a lawyer for you. David Singer. He’s one of the brightest young men I know. He’ll be coming to see you. I want you to tell him everything.”
Ashley looked at her father and said hopelessly, “Father, I—I don’t know what to tell him. I don’t know what’s happening.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of this, baby. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. No one! Ever! You mean too much to me. You’re all I have, honey.”
“And you’re all I have,” Ashley whispered.
Ashley’s father stayed for another hour. When he left, Ashley’s world narrowed down to the small cell she was confined in. She lay on her cot, forcing herself not to think about anything. This will be over soon, and I’ll find that this is only a dream… Only a dream…Only a dream… She slept.
The voice of a guard awakened her. “You have a visitor.”