Free Black Tuesday by Susan Colebank Page A

purple heels. “I’m Valerie Shetland. Call me Val. Please, have a seat. The officer who was at the scene of the accident will be here in a few minutes, after we’ve had a chance to talk for a bit.”
    She smelled like sandalwood and lavender. The smell seemed ... confident.
    Val walked around her desk, her strides long and sure-footed. “Sit, sit. I’ve asked your mom to wait outside while we get acquainted for a minute.”
    Jayne thought it had been weird when her mom hung back. Doubly weird when she said she trusted Jayne to handle herself. Gen Thompkins always wanted to be in the thick of things. In the thick of Jayne’s life.
    Val must’ve read Jayne’s thoughts on her face, because she laughed. “Yeah, it was like pulling teeth to have her wait out there. But she respects my decisions. Including the one that will have her finding other representation if she doesn’t like those decisions.”
    Jayne sat stiffly on the edge of a chair that was overshadowed by a huge flowering plant. Fake, of course. It looked like that human-eating plant in that movie Little Shop of Horrors she’d seen with Ellie a couple of years ago during their campy horror-film phase. She started feeling claustrophobic and had to remember those breathing exercises again. She rearranged one of the fronds pushing against her shoulder.
    â€œSorry about that. I just love plants to death. They’re my Zen. The woman who comes to dust them every week must’ve moved that one.” She added in a loud whisper, “I kill the real ones in five days or less, so I got these fake ones and treat them like they’re real. Weird, huh?”
    Yeah . “No, not really.”
    Val smiled, like she knew she was being humored. “Your mom tells me you both went over the accident already?”
    Jayne nodded mutely.
    â€œGreat. Figuring out the exact details of that day will help us build a rock-solid case.”
    â€œCase?” Jayne’s voice raised a few octaves. She remembered the notebook she was holding. She held it out in Val’s direction. “Mom and I went over stuff you might want to know. Here are the answers.”
    Val laughed and took the notebook. She started flipping through the pages as she walked around the desk. “Are you going to be a journalist like your mom?”
    â€œNo.” The answer came fast and furious. Which was unexpected. Jayne had never really given much thought to being a journalist. That her subconscious already knew the answer before she did . . . that was interesting.
    What else did her subconscious know that she didn’t?
    Val continued to scan the notebook. “The juvenile court system will want to try you for assault with a deadly weapon, what with that little girl still in her brain-dead state.” She started making notes on a yellow legal pad. “It’s a manslaughter charge. And because you weren’t drinking or on drugs—that I know of and that we’ll get to in a minute—that’s a misdemeanor. Which basically means no jail time and you can still vote when you turn eighteen.”
    A cloud of spiderwebs had taken up residence in Jayne’s head. “It’s only a misdemeanor?”
    â€œYep. As long as you didn’t have any mind-altering substances in your system or weren’t going a criminally negligent speed”—Val flipped through some notes on her desk—“which, according to the tire marks you made with your car, you weren’t. The police report states you may have been going five, six miles over the speed limit. That still clears you for a misdemeanor.”
    Jayne stared blankly at the large turquoise pendant Val was wearing. It was freaky that people who hadn’t even been in the car with her could figure out how fast she’d been going.
    â€œThen there’s the civil suit if the family wants punitive damages, which I think they will. America’s too