Bones Don't Lie (Morgan Dane #3)(5)

“Lance called me,” Morgan said. “How did you get that bruise on your face?”

Eric blew hair off his forehead. “My face hit the floor when the sheriff handcuffed me.”

“Did you resist arrest?” Morgan asked.

Eric looked away. “Not really.”

Which was not exactly a no.

Morgan moved on. “We don’t have much time. The ADA has offered you a deal. If you plead guilty, you’ll receive probation.”

Eric jerked straight. “But I didn’t do anything.”

“Someone sent you an e-mail with a pornographic video involving a minor.”

“Spencer’s girl broke up with him. He sent the video of them doing it to everybody at school.” He snorted, a disgusted sound. “How am I supposed to keep someone from sending me an e-mail?”

Good question. But if anyone found with e-mails containing child pornography could make that argument, conviction of pedophiles would be all but impossible. Morgan could argue lack of malicious intent on Eric’s behalf, but the outcome would depend on the judge.

“If we go to trial, and you’re convicted, the maximum sentence you could receive is four years.”

Eric paled. “Four years? Because stupid Spencer sent me an e-mail?”

“Yes.”

“But I didn’t want it.” His eyes creased in confusion.

Morgan’s heart cracked. She used to be a tough-as-nails prosecutor, but her husband’s death in Iraq two years before and the experience of being a single mom to three little girls had peeled away her tough veneer. “I’m sorry you’re in this situation.”

“I don’t want to go to jail.” He chewed on his thumbnail.

“If you plead guilty, you’ll have to register as a sex offender, and you’ll have a criminal record with a felony conviction that will never go away.”

“This isn’t fair.” His eyes misted. He ducked his head and wiped his face with his hand. “What should I do?”

“Here’s the thing. The ADA has said the deal is a onetime offer. If you plead not guilty, he’ll pull his offer.”

“What a pri—jerk.”

“We don’t know what other evidence he has at this time. If you enter a not guilty plea, he’ll be forced to deliver that evidence. That’s called discovery.”

“I know. I watched My Cousin Vinny with my mom.” His bleak gaze leveled with hers. “If I take the deal, my life is basically over. What happens if I say no?”

“You plead not guilty, then the judge will set bail. We’ll try to get you out of here today.”

“I won’t have to spend another night in jail?” Eric brightened. “’Cause that place is fu—messed up.”

“That’s the plan.”

The smallest flicker of relief passed over his face.

Being defense counsel was new to her, but she was beginning to appreciate the importance of the role. When she’d worked in the prosecutor’s office in Albany, she hadn’t worried about sending innocent people to prison. Now she wondered if she ever had.

“The prosecutor says he has a confession,” she said.

“I didn’t confess to anything.” Eric’s voice rose.

“But you signed something . . .”

“Yeah.” Eric swept a hand through his shaggy hair. “The sheriff made me sign a statement. He said if I didn’t, the judge would go harder on me.”

“Did he read you your Miranda rights before this?”

“Yeah.” Eric nodded. “But he said calling a lawyer would make me look guilty, and maybe I wouldn’t get bail at all. Then I’d have to stay in jail.”

Morgan had dealt with Randolph County Sheriff King before. Strong-arm tactics were his claim to fame.

“We’ll argue that the sheriff coerced you into signing the confession. You said everyone at school had the video. Did you forward it to anyone?”

“No.” Eric’s lip curled. “I knew what it was. I deleted it as soon as I saw it in my in-box.”

Morgan’s pen froze. “You didn’t open the e-mail?”

“No.” Eric’s voice rose. He glanced around and lowered his tone. “Why?”

The guard signaled to Morgan.

“Our time is up.” She set down her pen. “Sit tight. I’ll work on getting you out of here.”

The guard led him away. Morgan headed for the DA’s office, located in an adjacent wing of the courthouse, and asked to see Esposito. The receptionist directed her to a conference room. She went inside and set her tote on the table.

“Hello, Morgan.” District Attorney Bryce Walters walked in, his smile white and predatory. Bryce had nearly been her boss, but two months ago she’d defended her neighbor in a high-profile murder case, upstaged Bryce, and forfeited any chance of working for him. She’d more than burned her bridges with the prosecutor’s office. She’d sent them up in a mushroom cloud.

“Bryce, I didn’t expect so see you. I thought Esposito was handling this case.”

“I’m just checking in.” He reached over the table and shook her hand, then pulled out a chair.

Normally, Bryce hid his emotions well, but he couldn’t quite cover the small gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.