Free Let Darkness Come by Angela Hunt Page B

right to a speedy trial. If you plead guilty, you could be sentenced to death or life in prison without possibility of parole. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?”
    Erin glances at Briley, then lowers her head in an abrupt nod. “I do.”
    â€œVery good.” For the first time, the judge looks squarely at the accused woman. “To the charge of murder in the first-degree, how do you plead?”
    Briley clears her throat. “Not guilty, Your Honor.”
    The judge glances down at her paperwork and lifts a page. “Preliminary trial set for next Monday—”
    â€œWe’ll waive the preliminary trial, Your Honor,” Briley says.
    â€œThen we’ll hear pretrial motions in six weeks, on January 26. Any objections?” The judge glances from the prosecutor to Briley, who shakes her head. “Thank you, Counselors, you are dismissed.”
    Briley gathers the prosecution’s case file and her laptop, then stops to address her shackled client. “I’m coming to see you this afternoon,” she says, noticing what could be a flicker of relief in the woman’s eyes. “Can I bring you anything?”
    Erin glances toward the other prisoners in the jury box and shakes her head. “I’d love something to read. Maybe certain paranoid people wouldn’t think I was staring at them if I could bury my nose in a book.”
    Briley grimaces. “I’m sorry, but books are considered contraband. Aren’t there any books in the dayroom?”
    â€œA few battered paperbacks.” Erin stands as the bailiff beckons to her. “But I’m not sure I dare cross the room to check them out.”
    â€œListen, if someone’s bothering you in there—”
    â€œBothering me?” Erin laughs, but a wild light shines in her eyes as the bailiff approaches to take her away. “I’ll see you this afternoon, Ms. Lester. I’ll be waiting.”
    Â 
    After exiting the elevator, Briley catches the eye of a courthouse security guard and nods toward the daylight beyond the glass doors. “Has it warmed up any outside?”
    The guard laughs. “It’s colder than a judge’s heart out there. But you didn’t hear me say so.”
    She smiles, fastens the top button of her coat, and steps through the tall doors leading to the courthouse steps. She’s parked in the garage across the street, so with any luck she’ll be able to get to her car before frostbite claims the tip of her nose—
    â€œMiss Lester!”
    â€œBriley!”
    She halts, blinking in consternation, as a horde of reporters surges into her path, carrying cameras, recorders, and boom microphones.
    Briley glances to her left and right, hoping for a means of escape, but she can see no other way to reach her car. She can see several white news vans parked at the curb south of the courthouse, their satellite dishes extended.
    Within a moment, she is surrounded and peering into a sea of wind-chapped faces. The mob thrusts dozens of gadgets in her direction, their motions accompanied by a chorus of insectile clicks.
    â€œMiss Lester!” the closest woman shouts, shoving a recorder into Briley’s face. “What can you tell us about Erin Tomassi’s case?”
    Briley focuses on the parking garage in the distance as the wind slaps her cheeks with frigid fingers. “Erin Tomassi entered a not-guilty plea this morning before Judge Hollister,” she says, weighing each word before she speaks it. “That’s it for now.”
    â€œCan you tell us how you plan to defend her? Your personal theory of the case? Is it true that Jeffrey Tomassi was having an affair with a flight attendant?”
    Briley glares at the male reporter who released the barrage of questions. “We are not prepared to make further comments at this time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I have the right to cross the street