A WIP - Sample Sunday

I love writing, and find myself constantly battling the voices in my head. Characters with stories to be told--voices to be heard. My first sample Sunday was the prologue to this book so I decided to post Chapter One this week. This is my first attempt at a legal thriller. Last week I posted Chapter One of Passing Judgment. I hope you enjoy the samples. If you love mysteries that keep you guessing all the way to the end, check out The Jacody Ives Mysteries - still available on Amazon Kindle to 99 cents. Happy Holidays.


CHAPTER ONE

Michael Elkins took his gaze from the jury for just a moment to admire the beautiful young woman delivering a scathing closing argument. His former client was referred to as an unholy animal who had butchered and reveled in the death of a homeless immigrant. Her blue eyes flashed, as condemning words were delivered with precision. She didn’t flutter or wave her hands at exhibits. Instead she gripped them as weapons, walking slowly in front of each juror as she met their eyes, dropped her voice, making it soft, senuous. “This was someone’s son. Someone’s father. Someone’s best friend.”

The jurors averted their eyes from the gory picture.

Michael drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he grinned, remembering how those same hands had earlier that morning roamed his body, finding places that delighted them both. There was nothing stiff about Cassie, in or out of the courtroom. She lived for passion whether it was prosecuting a scumbag like Mark Trevello, or making love. He didn’t need to stay to hear the jury’s verdict. Trevello had lost the second she dropped her voice, whispered those soft words “. . .someone’s son. . .someone’s father. . . someone’s best friend.”

Shrugging his shoulders he met the gaze of Scott Harman, the young attorney that had taken his place on the case when Cassie was assigned as prosecutor. Their relationship wasn’t exactly public knowledge, but there was no way he would risk her career or his own for a lowlife like Trevello. He’d known Trevello was guilty from the first time he talked to him. He hated the loss for Scott, but he would be hard pressed to conceal his pride in Cassie.

Rising he caught her eye as she returned to prosecutor’s table to wait for Judge Moyer to deliver the jury instructions, and then the wait for the verdict. He caught the subtle wink, slight lifting of the corner’s of her mouth as her tongue flicked out for less than a second, a promise of things to come.

Michael raised his hand, running his fingers through the thick blonde hair, a silent salute as he headed for the courtroom door to answer the cell phone that had been vibrating incessantly for more than five minutes.

He cleared security, heading for fresh air and a much needed cigarette before he returned the call. The Honorable William Jefferson Elkins had summoned—six times. He wasn’t going to be happy about Michael’s refusal to answer the phone, even if he had been in court. Lighting the cigarette he took a deep drag and scowled. His father hadn’t called him in over six months, and now he’d called six times in the space of a half hour. Hitting the redial button he threw the unfinished cigarette into the street.

“Hello.”

“Maria, it’s Michael. My father has been trying to reach me.”

The silence on the phone was deafening. Michael felt the first tremors of foreboding.

“Hold please.” The words were whispered, an underlying note of compassion, pain.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you for hours.” Judge Elkins bellowed into the receiver.

“I’ve been in court, dad.” Michael didn’t bother to correct him that it had only been a half hour. No one ever corrected Judge Elkins. At least no one that still had a bar license.

“There’s been an accident.” Anger still riddled the old man’s voice. “Your mother’s dead.”