happy to answer your questions, but I don’t have simple answers. I think it would be best if we met in person.”
Brett listened as Mr. Phillips told her he had traveled to Austin himself to help his brother manage young Kenneth.
“He is eaten up with guilt about the man who is in jail. The one the police think committed this murder.”
Brett was done with abstract references. “Do you know the name of the man in jail?”
“Kenneth cut out some newspaper stories about him. I think his name is Ross Edwards.”
Brett gasped.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” Brett struggled to compose herself. What a bizarre coincidence to learn she had a potential client who wanted to confess to Ryan Foster’s headline murder case. She squelched the nip of pleasure that came from knowing she would have an opportunity to run into Ryan again. “I’ve heard of the case.”
“I just need to know a few things to be able to set my son’s mind at ease.”
Brett struck a balance between comforting and firm. “Totally understandable. I’m happy to answer your questions, but I want to do it in person. We can all sit down and take whatever time is necessary to formulate a strategy.”
Mr. Phillips didn’t respond. Brett waited through the silence. She may need to pay her bills, but she didn’t need to beg for clients. Either Daddy brought his baby boy in for a meeting or not. Either way, this was the last time Brett was going to talk to this man without a retainer.
“I don’t know how much we can afford to pay you.”
There it was. The motive for all the hesitation. Mystery dispelled. She could hear Tony’s voice now: “Tell him to call legal aid. Tell him the court will appoint an attorney if he can’t afford to hire one for his son. Tell him you can’t eat gratitude.” In response she thought: The court won’t appoint counsel until the kid is already under arrest. Legal aid isn’t going to know how to deal with this kind of case. I don’t eat much. Finally, Brett found her voice.
“Come into the office, and we’ll figure something out.”
*
“Dinner’s great.” Brett scooped another forkful of her mother’s famous garlic mashed potatoes. She was on her third helping. I guess I do eat a lot. “It’s so nice to get a home-cooked meal.”
Her brother John chimed in. “If you’d ever settle down, you could make your own.”
“Better yet, if you got a real job, you could hire someone to make dinner every night and then tell people it’s your own,” her brother Brian added.
Brett punched him in the arm. “Oh, aren’t you all funny?” Brett knew her brothers were teasing. Mostly. “Like you two ever have to think about where your next meal is coming from.” She directed her comments at their wives. “Seriously, do they even know how to turn on the oven or even order from a take-out menu?”
Brian was the first to speak up. “Precisely my point, dear sister. Marry well and all your troubles will be gone.”
“Yep, Brian’s life is perfect since he met me,” his wife Ashley said.
“And I’ve already asked if you have a sister, right?” Brett batted her eyelashes. Despite all the teasing, Brett knew there was an undercurrent of seriousness in their words that needled her even though she had long ago decided to stop using their yardsticks to measure her success. They both knew she was fully capable of doing anything she put her mind to, but they couldn’t comprehend her choice to do more work for less money. Both brothers followed in their father’s footsteps, launching their careers at the same venerable Dallas law firm where their dad was a senior partner. Tax advice, unwinding derivatives, mineral rights. All three males in the Logan family were happily engaged in the practice of transactional law. Brett could not imagine a more boring existence. Right now all she could think about was sneaking upstairs and Googling everything she could about the Edwards case. If she took