“You don’t need to know me,” he answered. “You only need to know that I stand by my word. I said I won’t hurt you, and I meant it. I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid.” I crossed my arms.
He stared at me until I felt like I wanted to melt into the concrete. I didn’t want to believe that he knew all my secrets, but maybe he really did. Because when he looked at me, it wasn’t the way other men did. It wasn’t with sloppy lust or greed. There was passion and determination in his eyes. I just had to figure out exactly what that determination meant.
“You did good, pet.” He brought his thumb to my cheek and wiped away a streak of grease I didn’t know had collected there. “Have you ever had a real job?”
I shook my head. I’d made a shitload of money in my lifetime, but none of it was what society would call a real job.
“I want you to come to the office with me this week,” he said. “You can work the front desk.”
“Seriously?” I groaned. “What about your girlfriend?”
His eyes narrowed. “What girlfriend?”
“You know, the pretty redhead you’ve probably banged about a thousand times.”
He stuffed the oil rag back into his pocket and crossed his arms. “She’s an employee, not my girlfriend. And I’ve never fucked her.”
“Whatever.” My cheeks felt like tomatoes. “I don’t want to work with her.”
“Feeling threatened?” he mused.
“No,” I bit out. “I just don’t want to do that job.”
Lucian slammed the hood and locked the car. “I think you’re forgetting something, pet. It doesn’t matter what you want. Remember?”
“HOW ARE YOU DOING?”
Emmanuel bobbed his head, but nothing came out of his mouth. The shadows beneath his eyes were more prominent than the last time I’d seen him, and the bruising on his jaw was fresh. I was aware he’d been in several scuffles already with other inmates, which wasn’t entirely surprising. This place was a cesspool of crime, but there were always a few who believed their crimes weren’t as morally repulsive as the rest.
Emmanuel would have to face down these demons for the rest of his life if he was convicted of murder, and I knew better than to give him false comfort or hope. His case would be difficult to win, and I wouldn’t tell him otherwise. All my cases were notoriously difficult to win, but I couldn’t deny the overbearing sense of hopelessness in this one.
I needed a working theory. Something that would convince the jury of another plausible suspect. The problem was that Emmanuel’s neighborhood was notoriously anti-police, and nobody who had any real information was actually talking. All I could do was ensure Emmanuel was prepared for trial.
I shuffled through my paperwork and got down to business. “We need to go over the questions again. I need your honest answers. Can you do that?”
He nodded.
“How well did you know Ariana Sanders?”
Emmanuel rubbed a hand over his face. “I already told you, I didn’t know her. She lived on my street, but we had never talked before that night. I just saw her drop her groceries, and I offered to help. That was it.”
“Tell me in your own words what happened that day.”
His eyes rolled up toward the ceiling as he recounted his story. “I picked up the bag and waited for her to open the door. I wasn’t going to go inside, but she told me it was cool. I walked into the kitchen, set the bag on the counter, and tried to leave. She thanked me and offered me a glass of water. It was hot out, and I was thirsty, so I took it. We talked for a couple of minutes and I left. That was it, I’m telling you.”
“So this twenty-three-year-old woman who lived alone and didn’t know you invited you into her apartment without any apparent concern?”
“Yes, man.” Emmanuel ground his teeth together. “We’ve been through this. Why are you asking me the same questions over and over?”
“Because that’s exactly what the prosecution will do, Emmanuel,” I answered. “And I will continue to ask them until I’m blue in the face if it means that your story never changes. That’s what they want. They are looking for ammunition. They want to nail you to the cross, and if you give them an opening to do that by losing your cool on the stand, they will prove their point. When you come off as having an easily provoked temper, they win.”
He was quiet while he digested my words. His eyes were heavy, and he looked remorseful for his behavior, but he couldn’t know just how much I got it. If he didn’t come out of this place having mental issues, then I would be worried.
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “I just can’t believe this is really happening. I can’t believe I’m in here for murder.”
“I know. But you have to stay focused. I need one hundred percent of your attention on this trial. If you get bogged down in other possibilities, then we don’t stand a chance.”