Free The Perfect Game by Leslie Dana Kirby

incurred during a drug deal gone wrong when LaRhonda was fourteen, cementing LaRhonda’s determination to become an emergency room doctor.
    â€œHoney, you are a hot mess.” LaRhonda began to swab Lauren’s knee with antiseptic, removing tiny pebbles that embedded in Lauren’s flesh. “How can so much gravel find a home in these scrawny legs of yours? Look, I know you don’t like to share your personal business. You pride yourself on being tough. Believe me, I know all ’bout that, but you best tell me what’s going on.”
    All of Lauren’s frustration came spilling out, concluding with her paranoia about being Boyd’s very real suspect. “They keep telling me they need to rule me out so they can narrow their investigation. That makes sense, right?”
    â€œWrong! They shoulda been able to rule you out long ‘go. For some reason, they think you did it. I know you grew up in some white-bread town where the biggest crime was stolen panties off some little ol’ lady’s clothesline, but honey, this ain’t Mayberry. You need to get yourself a lawyer and fast. You need me to come with you? Cause I will. I will march into that lawyer’s office with you and demand justice.”
    Lauren could easily imagine LaRhonda taking the entire judicial system by storm. “No, you don’t need to march anywhere with me. Mr. Lawrence gave me the name of an attorney. I’ll call him.”
    LaRhonda finished off Lauren’s knee with a fancy bandage. Lauren began to get down from the exam table.
    â€œWhere do you think you’se going?” LaRhonda asked.
    â€œI need to grab some scrubs. That police brutality set me back and I need to get to work.”
    LaRhonda forced her own cell phone into Lauren’s hand. “You’re not going anywhere until you call and get yourself an appointment with a lawyer. And that’s final.”

Chapter Sixteen
    (Thursday, August 18)
    The law offices of Dennis Hopkins were located on the seventeenth floor of a fancy high-rise in downtown Phoenix. The picture windows in the waiting room offered an expansive view. Lauren spotted Camelback Mountain in the distance, Good Samaritan Hospital where she worked, and Chase Field where the Diamondbacks played.
    At her three o’clock appointment time, she was escorted back by the receptionist, who introduced her to the man behind the enormous desk before exiting. Dennis Hopkins rose from his chair to greet Lauren with a hearty handshake. He was a large man with a protruding belly underneath his western shirt, jeans, and a large silver belt buckle. He had salt and pepper hair, with extra salt.
    Dennis instructed Lauren to sit in one of the bulky armchairs across from his desk. No sooner had her butt hit the chair than he drawled, “I understand you are a suspect in the death of your sister.”
    â€œWho told you that?” Lauren asked, shocked by his bluntness.
    â€œYou did. Isn’t that why you scheduled this consultation?”
    â€œI suppose so,” Lauren conceded. “The detectives are trying to rule me out so they can narrow the focus of their investigation.”
    â€œUh huh. And what have they done so far to rule you out?”
    â€œThey’ve questioned me a couple of times. They collected the clothes I was wearing on the evening of the crime. They talked to colleagues to confirm my whereabouts. I took a polygraph test, actually two polygraph tests. I provided DNA and hair samples and they took pictures of my body.”
    â€œOnce you get to know me, you’ll learn I’m a real straight shooter,” Dennis said. “I don’t need to sell my services to those who don’t need ’em because I have plenty of potential clients who do. So please believe me when I say you need a defense attorney. Don’t hire me if you don’t feel comfortable with me, but you need to hire someone. No kidding, no sugarcoating, no