Free Witness for the Defense by Michael C. Eberhardt Page B

some pretty heavy stuff.”
    Sarah bent over to pick up several similar titles while I picked up a small paperback by my foot. “This sure looks out of place,” I said. It was an old Catholic catechism.
    Our eyes met.
    “What the hell is he doing with all this stuff?” I asked.
    “No idea,” she sighed.
    Whatever remained in our way, I pushed aside with my feet. The beer was taking its toll. I considered using the bathroom, but if I closed the door, it would have left her in the dark. And I wasn’t about to leave it open and take a leak in front of her.
    “This is ridiculous.” Sarah kicked a pair of dirty Levi’s into a corner next to the bed. It was unkempt, the sheets stained with God only knew what.
    All I wanted was to get the bed made so Sarah could leave. “Don’t worry about it. A couple fresh sheets should do the trick.”
    I reached down and ripped off the old ones with one quick pull. We both stared at the naked mattress; it was dirtier than the sheets. Sarah scrunched her face. “Are you sure?”
    Little did she know she was talking to someone who, except for three years of marriage, had been a bachelor since he graduated high school. Although the sight of what we were standing over did almost make me gag.
    I eyed the bathroom again. If I didn’t take a piss soon, the mattress wouldn’t be the only thing that was soiled.
    “We still have to talk about how we are going to deal with Patterson,” she said as she tucked the bottom sheet under the mattress.
    “Tonight?”
    Sarah threw the top sheet in the air and it fell gently to the mattress. “We seemed to have gotten a little sidetracked this afternoon.”
    “I know. We still have to discuss your fees.”
    “My fees,” she said. “I’ve already figured that out.”
    Staring at her blankly, I finished tucking in my side. I sat on the edge of the newly made bed, anxious to find out what she meant, when a pain, like a dull knife, pierced my side. I considered running outside and making a beeline for the nearest tree.
    “Let me explain,” she continued. “Even if the D.A. decides not to file charges, the state bar won’t give up so easy. And they are slow. We could be looking at three to four months before they complete their investigation.”
    “Well, if you’re worried I can’t pay…”
    “That’s not what I’m saying,” she interrupted. “What I mean is…you are going to have a lot of free time on your hands.”
    “Looks that way.”
    “So, I’m going to make sure you have something to do,” she said brightly like we were about to have some fun.
    “What did you have in mind?”
    Sarah placed her hand gently on mine. With her touch I felt goose bumps forming all over me. I quickly looked away, hoping she hadn’t noticed. “My father wants to make sure Jared receives a good defense.” Her voice was unsteady, and I was sure she felt the charge, too. “So, I was thinking,” she said, still a little shaky, “why don’t you stay here and help me represent him?”
    She’d caught me off guard. “I don’t know,” I mumbled.
    “It’s perfect.” Her voice was smooth again, in persuasive lawyer mode. “I’ll represent you in exchange for your help with Jared. A little quid pro quo.”
    The squeeze of her hand on mine was distracting me. Gently, as if I hadn’t even noticed, I extracted it. “I’m not sure,” I said. “After all, I do live two hours from here. Plus, I don’t know anything about how the courts up here operate.”
    “Hunter, I’ve never handled a case even remotely as serious as Jared’s.” Her baby blues were pleading for me to say yes. “But with your help it would be a walk in the park.”
    “What about your father?”
    “The pressure of a trial…with his heart… No way.”
    I reached to help her off the bed.
    “Plus, he’s too close to Jared,” she added.
    It did make a lot of sense. I’d handled dozens of similar cases. Even though I had been making a lot of noise about McBean