Free The Victim by Eric Matheny Page A

Savarese will call you as soon as he returns.” She rolled her eyes and palmed the receiver once more. “She said it was urgent.”
    Anton studied the phone slip. Just a 305 number and a note that read dv case, husband in custody .
    Anton folded the slip and walked down the hallway to his office. Most of his clients came to him by way of referral or through his website. He paid an SEO firm $2,500 a month to make sure he ranked high in Google searches for popular terms. With almost $300,000 in revenue last year, the investment was paying off.
    Anton’s office was small, the same size as those used by Jack’s paralegals, but the view of Biscayne Bay from the window that stretched wall to wall and ceiling to floor behind his desk was enough to entice the clients to hire him if they were having any doubts. Surely a lawyer with that kind of view commanded serious bucks. His show-off wall was adorned with plaques and framed diplomas. His gold prosecutor’s badge was encased in plexiglass with a little engraving memorializing his years of service. A bookcase contained statute books and binders full of training materials that he had taken with him when he left the State Attorney’s Office. Photos of Charlotte and Gina decorated the top of his glass L-shaped desk.
    He shook his mouse. His black computer screen came to life. He opened up a Word file and prepared to take down information. He unfolded the pink slip and dialed the number.
    After three rings she answered, “Hello?”
    “ Good afternoon. This is Anton Mackey, the defense attorney. I’m returning your call.”
    “ Oh, thank you so much for the quick call back. You’d have no idea how many other lawyers haven’t been returning my calls.”
    She was shopping around, which was common.
    He pinned the phone between his ear and shoulder and prepared to type. “How can I help you?”
    She let out a heavy exhale into the phone. “My husband was arrested early this morning. He’s being held at TGK. The website says he has no bond. I’ve been trying to call over there to get answers, but they’re so rude on the phone. Nobody wants to help.”
    Anton went to the Miami-Dade Corrections website and opened the inmate locator tool.
    “ What’s your husband’s name, ma’am?”
    Anton entered the first and last name and searched, returning one inmate. He clicked on the booking photo and charge information. Young man, younger than Anton. His light-brown hair was caked with blood just above his forehead. His left eye was swollen shut. His bottom lip was split. Either his wife had adequately defended herself or the cops had done a number on him.
    One count of burglary with an assault or battery. That was a non-bondable charge. Anton would have to set an Arthur Hearing. The other two charges were felonies although less serious. Aggravated battery, likely for the work he did to his wife. Resisting an officer with violence. Ah, the reason for his appearance. He’d been tuned up good and proper and the cops would call it self-defense.
    “ My secretary said this was a domestic violence matter?”
    “ I suppose. I mean, we’re still legally married but we’ve been separated for like two months.”
    “ So you’re the victim?”
    “ Yes.”
    Anton calculated the difficulty of the case based on the little information he had. If the victim was the person calling to hire the lawyer, the chances of the charges being dropped increased exponentially.
    “ I’d be happy to discuss representing your husband. He has to be the one to agree to hire me, despite your wishes, I’m afraid. But if you’re free this afternoon I have some time.”
    “ Great,” she said, relieved. “Can I come now?”
    “ Sure.” Waves of warmth ran through his body. He could feel it. A good fee was on the horizon. Criminal defense attorneys had a sixth sense about those things. “I’m located at—”
    “ Oh, I know where you are.” He could hear the click of a keyboard. “I’m on your website