Say You're Sorry Page 22


“Yeah.” Nick jerked upright, anger surging over his fear and brightening his eyes. “Of course. I know the police said she was raped. I could never have . . .”

Morgan held up a hand to calm him. “All right. You and Tessa had consensual sex in your car. Front seat or back?”

“Back.”

“Did you use a condom?”

“No. And I know it was stupid.” His jaw went tight with frustration and regret. “I didn’t have one.”

Morgan set her pen on the notepad. “Nick. I’m not your parent. I’m your lawyer. You have to get used to telling me personal things. If this goes to trial, every detail will come out anyway.”

Nick’s nod was stiff and barely perceptible.

Morgan picked up her pen. “What time was this?”

“I don’t know exactly. Maybe around ten.”

“What happened next?” Morgan started a timeline.

“Tessa was crying. She wouldn’t tell me why. I assumed it had something to do with the fight and what Jacob said. I drove us back to the clearing. Her car was still there.” Nick’s eyes clouded. “Then she broke up with me.”

“She had sex with you, and then broke up with you afterward?” Morgan clarified.

“Yes. I tried to get her to talk to me, but she wouldn’t say why she had to break up with me.” Nick’s eyes filled with tears. “Finally, I just left. She was in her car. I assumed she’d drive home.” He sniffed. “That was the last time I saw her.”

“Did other kids witness your argument with Tessa?”

He bit off a piece of his thumbnail. “Yeah. Probably. There were a couple of people still there when we drove to the clearing.”

“Did anyone see you leave without her?”

“Maybe.”

“I need to know who.”

“OK. I think Robby Barone was there, and Felicity, and another friend of Tessa’s, Jamie.” Nick concentrated, his expression desperate.

“Try to think of others.” Morgan wrote down the names. “Where did you go?”

“I drove around for a while. I couldn’t believe she broke up with me.” Sadness quivered in his voice. “If the cops hadn’t shown me pictures, I wouldn’t believe she was dead either.”

Morgan had a quick flash of Tessa’s bloody body. If the case went to trial, she and Nick would both be seeing those images over and over. Would they ever become immune? She hoped not.

No. She couldn’t think like that. She was going to prove he was innocent.

“Did you get a burger?” she asked. “Stop at a convenience store? Did anyone see you driving around?”

Nick shook his head. “No. I don’t even remember exactly where I went.”

“Did you make any calls on your phone?” Morgan asked, hoping the GPS might have recorded Nick’s location.

“I tried to text her later, but my battery was dead.”

So much for the GPS on his phone.

“What time did you get home?”

“Around midnight.”

“Did your dad see you come in?”

“No. He was already asleep. He had to open the shop Friday morning.” So Nick had no alibi for the entire night.

“How much of this did you tell the police?”

“Everything. I didn’t think I had to hide anything, because I’m innocent. When they said I was helping them find Tessa’s killer, I believed them.” Anger tightened Nick’s face.

Most citizens didn’t know the police could lie when interviewing suspects. It was perfectly legal, and they did it all the time.

He sniffed and swiped a hand below his eyes. “I still can’t believe she’s dead.”

“I know. Me either.” Morgan looked up from her notepad. “Here’s what’s going to happen next. By Tuesday, there will be a grand jury hearing where the prosecutor presents evidence and the jury decides if there is enough to officially charge you. In reality, this is a formality. We don’t even attend, unless you want to testify, and I don’t recommend providing any sort of testimony at this stage. The DA will get the indictment.”

Nick’s face creased with confusion.

“The prosecutor might offer a plea bargain, but I don’t anticipate it will be much of a deal.” Not with the mayor, police chief, and DA all milking the case for publicity. I also need to inform you that if you are found guilty, you could be facing life in prison.”

Nick’s mouth opened and closed again without any words coming out.

“I need permission to discuss your case with your dad,” Morgan said.

“OK. Sure. Is there any way you can get me out of here?” Nick asked.

The bleakness in his eyes destroyed her. “The judge has set bail at a million dollars. Your dad would have to come up with ten percent of that amount, or one hundred thousand dollars.”

His shoulders slumped. “He doesn’t have that kind of money.”

“I don’t want to add financial issues to your worries right now, but a solid defense will be expensive. I’ll work your case pro bono, but I’ll have to pay for expert testimony, additional testing of evidence, and an investigator, among other things. As much as I hate this situation, you’re going to have to choose how to spend your limited funds. If you tie it all up with the bail bond, there won’t be any left for your defense.”

“So I have to stay in jail?” Panic edged Nick’s voice.

Morgan put her hand over his. “I wish you didn’t.”

“You don’t know what it’s like . . .” Nick glanced around the tiny room, fear shadowing his eyes.

“I don’t want you to spend the next twenty-five years of your life behind bars.” Morgan squeezed his fingers. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”

He took a shaky breath, and then sniffed hard and lifted his chin. “I’ll be OK. Thanks for everything you’re doing.”

“In the meantime, you have to be very careful. Do not speak about your case to anyone in here. Not your cellmates, the guards, no one. Don’t even think out loud. Other inmates might try to use information you give them as leverage in their own cases.” In her days as an ADA, Morgan had seen prosecutors elicit information from other prisoners. “Do not speak about the case on the phone, even if you’re talking to me or your dad. The call could be monitored and recorded. Do not waive any rights. Do not talk to any investigator unless I am with you. The prosecutor does not have to honor promises made by other law enforcement officers.”

“None of this seems right.”

“No. It doesn’t. But I’m going to do my best to get you out as quickly as possible.” Morgan summoned the guard and watched as Nick was cuffed and led away.

She shook off her depression, gathered her notes, and left the room. After exiting the jail, Morgan drove to the DA’s office.

It was time to talk to Bryce. No doubt he’d already heard she’d agreed to defend Nick, but she owed him the courtesy of a face-to-face meeting. The District Attorney’s office was in the municipal complex down the street from the county jail. Morgan parked in the visitors’ lot and got out of her van. Her pumps clicked on the pavement as she strode toward the entrance.

“Ms. Dane?”

Morgan paused and pivoted. She recognized the man jogging toward her. A reporter with a local cable channel. A dozen strides behind him, a cameraman followed. She put on her sincere face. Nick needed someone to be his spokesperson.

The reporter stopped, straightened the lapels of his suit, and waited for the cameraman to catch up. Once the lens was up and the green light illuminated, the reporter began. “Is it true that you will be representing the man accused of raping and murdering Tessa Palmer?”

“I am defending Nick Zabrowski.” Words mattered, and Morgan chose hers carefully. She would always use Nick’s name or refer to him as her client. The press and the prosecutor would call Nick the defendant or the accused to cast guilt on him every time they spoke. Morgan would strive to make Nick appear as a victim of a skewed justice system, a human being caught in circumstances beyond his control. It was Morgan’s job to make the public see that what was happening to Nick could happen to any one of them.

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