Open the Door

3 Nora

3 NoraNora’s gaze swept down the page. She found the name of the baby girl’s mom and took a deep breath.

She exhaled slowly and read the name aloud.

“Patty-Jean Dockson.”

Nora looked up from the paper and found Fred watching her.

She struggled to keep her voice steady. “I assume you’ve verified that this Patty-Jean Dockson is my mother.”

“Yes.” Fred’s tone was mild. “You and Hunter Logan have the same mother.”

A bizarre coincidence?

Or a sleazy maneuver to suck her into a case she didn’t want?

Holding the paper in one hand, Nora aimed her free index finger at Fred.

“You told me why you think I’m the right attorney to represent Hunter,” she said. “But I want to hear how you arrived at my name.”

She tossed the photocopy onto the table and let her hands fall into her lap.

Fred nodded agreeably. “I’ll do my best to answer any questions you have.”

“Okay.” She raised her chin. “Who told you that my target clients are women wrongfully convicted of killing their loved ones?”

“Marianne Freemantle,” Fred answered promptly.

Nora’s chin jerked down in a sharp nod. Fred had confirmed her suspicion. The Law Beast had played a part in his referral.

“Marianne’s an old friend,” Fred continued. “She also knows you. She was able to update me.”

“You bet she was,” Nora retorted. “Your old friend keeps an eye on my activities. Did she ask you to refer Hunter’s case to me?”

Fred frowned. “You’re reversing the order of events. Referring Hunter to you was my idea. I phoned Marianne because I wanted her opinion.”

Smiling, he added, “Marianne thinks you’re an excellent choice to represent Hunter.”

Nora clenched her teeth together to stop herself from shouting at him.

Was Fred really so naive?

The Law Beast had called Nora a crappy lawyer to her face.

Now she was telling Fred that Nora Dockson was the right lawyer for this client?

What did the Law Beast hope to gain?

Probing, Nora asked, “When did you tell her that Hunter and I have the same mom?”

“I didn’t,” Fred huffed. “When I called Marianne, I wasn’t aware of the connection.”

Nora snorted. “That Patty-Jean Dockson and I have the same last name didn’t tip you off?”

He grunted. “Of course, I noticed that. I planned to check if you and Hunter might be distant relatives. I asked Marianne if she could shed any light on the issue. She happened to know that your mother’s name is also Patty-Jean Dockson.”

Nora felt her fingers curl into fists.

“You had the name of Hunter’s birth mother in your files because you assisted with Hunter’s adoption,” she said to Rogers. “Maybe you’re in the right.”

She spat out her next words.

“But Marianne Freemantle illegally researched my mom’s history. She dug up all the dirt she could find on my family. She used it in support of her motion to impeach me. Her horseshit ploy failed, by the way.”

Rogers made a calming gesture, patting the air with open palms. “I understand you two have a history. But this referral didn’t originate with Marianne. I’m the one behind it.”

He cleared his throat. “Marianne supported my choice of you before we confirmed that Hunter’s mother and yours are the same person. I was as surprised as you are to learn that Hunter is your sister.”

Sister.

Hearing him speak that word put the brakes on her train of thought.

She could spend hours obsessing over the possibility that the Law Beast was plotting against her.

Or she could accept that Fred was making this referral all on his own.

She could move on to a much more compelling topic.

Her sister.

She’d always wanted a little sister.

Now, just one day past Christmas, her wish had come true.

She let go of her fury and moved on.

“You’re right about one thing,” she told Fred. “I’m totally flabbergasted by the news that I have a sister. I had no idea she existed.”

Picking up the carafe, she refilled their mugs. “I was one month short of turning five years old when Patty-Jean left me with my grandmother. I didn’t see my mom again until I was fifteen.”

Fred frowned. “Did you know where your mother went? What she was doing?”

“Patty-Jean was last seen climbing into the passenger seat of a Kenworth. Over the next decade, she sent me nine postcards. Four pictured truckstops.”

Nora shrugged. “I guessed my mom was traveling with a long-haul trucker. I never suspected that seven months after leaving me in Oregon, Patty-Jean was having a baby in Washington.”

Throwing up her hands, she added, “Does Hunter know that I’m her sister?”

“Yes. Before contacting you, I told my client about the relationship. She informed her daughter. Both Mrs. Roosevelt and Hunter agreed I should ask you to represent Hunter.”

Nora shivered. On the other side of the state, Hunter was waiting for her answer.

Maybe right this minute, her sister perched on the edge of a hard, narrow bunk in a tiny two-person cell no different from the one in which Nora’d lived for twenty-six months.

Saying no to Hunter would hurt like hell.

But she couldn’t say yes before she knew what she was getting into.

“How much can you tell me about the case against Hunter?” she asked.

Fred pushed his reading glasses higher on his nose and tapped the folder.

“My client authorized me to turn over everything I have. For a start, let me give you the basic facts.”

He moved a yellow sheet torn from a legal pad to the top of his file.

“The murder victim was her husband, Garth Logan. He collapsed in their home one night last April. He was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital.”

Fred adjusted his glasses and added, “The county coroner ruled that Garth’s unexpected death resulted from cardiac arrhythmia with unknown etiology.”

He raised his eyes from the paper. “Six months later, a heavy metals test on tissue samples from his cadaver found over one thousand times the normal level of arsenic in his liver. The amount in his kidneys was over two hundred and fifty times the normal level.”

“I assume the coroner changed the cause of death to arsenic poisoning,” Nora said.

“Yes. Hunter was the sole suspect identified by investigators. They concluded that only she could have poisoned him.”

Nora felt her forehead wrinkle. “Did investigators find any arsenic in Hunter’s home?”

Fred gave a negative head shake. “The investigators argued that the absence of arsenic meant nothing because she’d had six months to dispose of it. They claimed she had easy access to the poison.”

Nora drew her chin down in a sharp nod and summarized. “Investigators decided that Hunter had the opportunity and the means to poison Garth. Did they discover a motive?”

“Investigators focused on Garth’s life insurance. Hunter was the only beneficiary. She collected two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

“Wow, that’s hefty coverage. Had she taken out the policy recently?”

“No. Garth worked for a private security company that operates worldwide. He was originally employed by their Sweet Home office to work locally. Three years ago, he accepted an assignment that put him in the Middle East for a year.”

Fred glanced back at his file.

Peering at her over the top of his glasses, he added, “The company-paid insurance policy was an incentive to work overseas. He married Hunter before he left and made her the beneficiary.”

“Quite the romantic gesture.” Nora shook her head. “But you haven’t described a slam-dunk case for the prosecution. I don’t see why Hunter entered an Alford Plea.”

Nora used the shorthand-term for a Supreme Court ruling that allows defendants to make a deal without admitting guilt.

Hunter had denied poisoning her husband.

But she’d conceded that the prosecution had sufficient evidence to convince a jury to find her guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.

If she went on trial and was convicted of murder, she risked getting a life sentence without possibility of parole.

By making the deal, she’d guaranteed she’d be out of prison in ten years.

Nora added, “What did the prosecuting attorney have that made Hunter think the jury would reach a guilty verdict?”

Fred pursed his lips. “In a nutshell, Hunter did not behave like a grieving widow.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that.” Nora frowned. “You’ll have to give me an example or two.”

Fred closed the folder and held out to her.

“You’ll find a dozen examples in the file.”

Nora’s hands closed on the manila folder.

Fred let go immediately. “This material is salacious. I’d prefer you review it on your own. In my opinion, the devil’s in the details. I think the cumulative impact on most jurors would be to make them lose all sympathy for Hunter.”

His words killed her appetite. She no longer had time to waste on a restaurant meal.

Her gaze flicked to her shoulder bag and she caught a glimpse of her smokes, tucked inside.

She hugged the folder to her instead of opening it.

She had to take a smoke break. She needed a nicotine fix before she saw what was inside that folder.