Free Spilled Blood by Brian Freeman Page A

happened.”
    “We didn’t see who did it.”
    “Maybe not, but I don’t want teenagers in either town thinking they can get away with these assaults without consequences.”
    “I understand.” Chris added, “I assume you’re planning to file a motion for a certification hearing.”
    The certification hearing would determine whether Olivia’s case would continue in juvenile court or whether she would be tried as an adult, with adult punishments. Unfortunately, in a murder case, the presumption of the law worked against them. The only way to keep the proceedings in juvenile court was to mount an uphill argument that mitigating factors weighed in Olivia’s favor. Judges rarely agreed.
    “The hearing may be a moot point,” Altman told him.
    “Excuse me?”
    “I plan to seek a grand jury indictment for first-degree murder. At that point, the certification is automatic.”
    Chris felt as if he’d been punched in the chest. “First-degree murder? You can’t be serious.”
    “I am.”
    “Even if you believe Olivia pulled the trigger, you can’t possibly believe she intended to kill Ashlynn.”
    Altman’s face was grave. “Talk to your daughter.”
    “What the hell does that mean?”
    “It means this wasn’t just a depraved game played by a teenager without regard to the consequences. It was a deliberate revenge killing.”
    “Revenge for what? Kimberly’s death?”
    Altman hesitated with his hand on the oak door of the courtroom. “I’m afraid it goes deeper than that, Mr. Hawk,” he said.
    Without waiting for Chris to reply, the county attorney turned and disappeared inside the courtroom.
    Chris stood alone in the hallway, inhaling the musty smell of the old building. He remembered what the motel owner, Marco Piva, had told him when he first arrived in town. You will not be trusted. People will not tell you things you need to know. That was already true. He felt as if there were a backstory playing out around him, and everyone but him knew what it was.
    Talk to your daughter.
    Olivia emerged from behind the frosted window of the women’s bathroom. She wiped her mouth and rubbed her fingers on the denim of her jeans. She looked pale and fragile. Her chestnut hair hung straight down in long, dirty strands.
    “Are you okay?” he asked.
    “I threw up.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    She slid down onto a bench and laid her head against the wall. He sat down next to her and slid an arm around her back, which was so skinny he could feel her bones. The sweet, sickly smell of vomit clung to her. She folded herself into his shoulder the way she used to do as a child. Her eyes were vacant as she stared at the ceiling. They sat next to each other in silence, as if there were nothing to do but wait for a flood to carry them away.
    First-degree murder.
    The courtroom door opened again, and two people slipped through the doorway. Their footsteps on the hardwood floor sounded hollow under the high ceiling. Chris recognized them. He tensed, expecting a confrontation that he didn’t want at all. Not now.
    It was Florian Steele. The CEO of Mondamin Research was accompanied by his wife, Julia.
    Chris knew Florian. They weren’t friends, but they were both alumni from the University of Minnesota Law School, two years apart. They’d served together on the editorial board of the law review. They hadn’t spoken in fifteen years. He remembered Florian as a law student whose interest was corporate law: public and private offerings, securities, and mergers and acquisitions. Even then Florian was all business, which made him a rarity. Most law students were either idealists, like Chris, who figured law was a way to change the world, or they were litigators who thought they would spend their careers in court. Florian saw law as a means to an end. Start a business.
    Acquire capital. Grow. Make money. Sell.
    He’d followed his plans precisely.
    Florian’s eyes roved the hallway like a cautious tiger and found the two of them on the