A Case of Redemption Read Online Free Page B

that you couldn’t handle the rejection and so you killed her.”
    He shook his head, as if the theory was so ludicrous as not to warrant even a response. It came off arrogant, and I made a mental note that he’d have to work on that expression if he was ever before a jury.
    â€œSo what’s the story there?” I asked.
    We stared at each other for a good thirty seconds. It was obvious we were taking each other’s measure.
    He blinked first.
    â€œI saw my baby girl over Thanksgiving. I was never gonna go to Roxanne’s mama’s house.”
    â€œBaby girl?” I said.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œAnother girlfriend?”
    He laughed, a real from-the-belly laugh. “You think I’m talkin’ a whole different language, don’tcha? No, man. Baby girl. She a real baby. My daughter, Brianna. She’s five.”
    This took me by surprise. Nina hadn’t mentioned that part.
    L.D. was showing me his broadest smile yet, framed by two perfect dimples. I recognized it all too well as a father’s smile. There was nodoubt in my mind he was telling me the truth, at least about this. He had a five-year-old daughter.
    â€œYou got any kids?” he asked.
    It’s a question that I still don’t know how to answer. Technically, I suppose, the answer is no, but that would suggest that I’ve never experienced fatherhood. Sometimes I give a fuller explanation— I had a daughter, but she died —but in situations where I don’t want to discuss it, I go with one of the two shorter options, both of which seem equally true and untrue: yes or no.
    This time I said, “Yes.”
    â€œHow old?”
    â€œSix,” I said, which would be the answer I’d give for the rest of my life. And then I added, “A girl.”
    â€œGood,” he said. “Then you know why I gotta get outta here. Think about it fo’ a second. How’d you feel if you gonna be separated from your little girl fo’ the rest of your life fo’ somethin’ you didn’t do?”
    I didn’t answer, but instead looked over to Nina. From the sadness in her eyes, I knew she understood what we’d been discussing.

4
    O n the subway back from Rikers, I shared with Nina Legally Dead’s portion of the conversation. I did it without invoking his name or saying anything that would reveal privileged information about the world’s most notorious murder suspect to the other riders on the train. It’s something lawyers become quite adept at—speaking in pronouns and euphemisms, so someone eavesdropping has no idea what’s being discussed.
    The first thing I raised with her was the money.
    â€œHe doesn’t have a pot to piss in. Apparently, his employer never paid him. Are you still up for doing this pro bono?”
    The disclosure didn’t seem to surprise her.
    â€œIt won’t be pro bono, Dan. He’ll have money. He just doesn’t have it right now. I hate to say it, but he’s going to earn millions from . . .” She looked around the train. “On that one thing alone.”
    She meant the “A-Rod” song.
    â€œBlood money,” I said.
    She shrugged. “Not if he’s innocent.”
    It was ironic, albeit in a tragic way, but I didn’t care about the fee because I was living off my own blood money. At Sarah’s insistence, when Alexa was born, we took out a large life insurance policy on both our lives. It made sense to insure me that way because we depended on my income, but going back to work wasn’t in Sarah’s short-term plans, and in any event, magazine writers just didn’t pull in the kind of money that mattered to maintain our lifestyle. But Sarah insisted that the policies be of equal amount, and mademe promise that if anything ever happened to her, I’d leave Taylor Beckett and take a job that permitted me to spend more time with Alexa. “I want you to be the