Liability (Suncoast Society #33)(84)

Mason was surprised to see his dad and his mom and stepdad all sitting together on a bench when he and Cole and Kim arrived at the courthouse.

And they didn’t look like they were about to rip each other’s throats out, either.

Mason had opted for the walker after all. He’d wanted to use his cane, but Cole had put his foot down, listing a litany of reasons why it made sense to use the walker. Including the fact that the jury would be even more sympathetic to him as a victim if he was hobbling around with the walker.

The main reason for using it, though, had been that Cole insisted if Mason wouldn’t use the walker, he’d make Mason wear Kim’s pink bike helmet to protect his head in case he lost his balance and fell.

No way in hell was Mason doing that.

At least he didn’t have a headache today. Kim had come armed with peppermint oil and his medications, and snacks, in case he started to get a migraine from the stress and the excitement.

But he was bound and determined to see this through.

He had to.

He was actually more worried about Cole and Kim today, that they might want to take a swing at Freddie and get themselves into trouble.

His mom pointed at the walker. “Why didn’t you bring the wheelchair?”

“It’s in the car, Mom,” Cole said with an adorable smirk. “Mr. Indestructible here wanted to use his cane and nothing more. I had to threaten him with the helmet.”

She glared at Mason. “You don’t have to rush stuff. You need to do this smart. You hurt yourself and set yourself back, especially if you hit your head—”

“I know, I know.” Mason sat at the end of the bench, next to his father. “I’m listening to them.”

“Good.”

The state attorney handling the case walked up. “Let’s go talk in private,” he said without hesitation.

Cole and Kim exchanged a confused look before helping Mason get to his feet so he could lead the way, the two of them hovering close behind him.

Good, it wasn’t just him, then, who thought maybe something was going on.

When they were in a small conference room, the door shut, the attorney wasted no time. “He wants to take a plea deal. His attorney offered it up. He pleads guilty to aggravated assault and does five years, no time off, and ten years probation. And loses his license for fifteen years after that. Full revocation, not even a stipulation for work.”

Mason frowned. “As opposed to…what?”

“I still want to take this to trial. But I’m obligated to bring this offer to you, because you are the victim.”

“How much jail time could he possibly get if we take it to trial?”

“If he’s found guilty on attempted premeditated murder, he could easily do ten years or more. That voice mail message he left you really helps nail that one down, in my opinion. Probably more than ten years, based on the evidence we have and the other charges. But we’re also going to offer lesser charges for the jury to contemplate so he doesn’t skate free on a technicality because some idiot in the jury room doesn’t want to sentence him that long.”

“You think you’ve got enough?”

“We have the videos from the security cameras. We have the text message record and the phone calls. The voice mail he left you. He confessed to doing it, and there is absolutely no evidence that anyone else was in his car besides him. We have physical evidence, and we have witnesses.”

Mason opted to defer to Cole. “What do you think?”

“I think you need to do whatever means you’ll sleep well at night. I’m good with you making the call you need to make for you. We’ll support you either way.”

Mason studied his hands, which lay on the table. On the one hand, a sure-fire slam dunk, they could go home and celebrate, and it was done.

On the other, an unsure option that could have Freddie do more jail time, but not guaranteed.

An option that meant dragging himself—and the people he loved—through a trial.

He looked across the table at where his dad sat.

“Make the little f*cker pay,” his dad said.

Mason returned his attention to Kim.

“Mase, he said it before, and I’ll say it, too. We’re here with you regardless of what you decide to do. You do what you need to do. We will support you either way.”

Mason focused on the attorney. “You’re sure he’ll get convicted?”

“Nothing is a sure-thing. I’m very confident. Let’s put it that way. I’ve convicted people on less solid evidence. Even if the jury doesn’t convict him on the most serious charges, the likelihood is he’ll do at least that same amount of time as the plea deal.”

“Then let’s do this,” Mason said. “Unless he wants to change his plea deal to at least fifteen years in jail, no time off.”

“I’ll let them know. You all can wait here. I’ll be back shortly.” The attorney left the conference room.

Mason took a deep breath. “I hope I don’t regret this.”

Cole patted him on the shoulder. “He needs to pay for what he did.”

The attorney returned five minutes later. “No-go. We’re going to trial. You can wait out in the hall, if you want.”

“What about jury selection?”