Highway Song: A Smokey's Roadhouse Novel (37 page)

Amy

M
y transfer to Texas had been aboard a commercial flight, handcuffed to the US Marshal who accompanied me. Having to use the restroom still handcuffed to him was not the most humiliating experience of my life, but it came close to the most humiliating of the past four years. Fortunately, he was matter-of-fact about it, for which I was grateful. He didn
’
t taunt or threaten me in any way, either. It was almost a relief to be with him, rather than constantly watching my back in the Maricopa County lockup.

I hadn
’
t seen nor heard from Rex since he and the band left for the next tour stop, nor was my lawyer able to tell me anything about them. He didn
’
t seem very friendly or supportive. When I asked him if he believed my story, he said that wasn
’
t his job. His job was to make the jury believe it.

Then, without explanation, a new lawyer came to see me one morning.

“
Where
’
s my lawyer?
”
I asked.

“
He
’
s withdrawn from the case, Ms. Bruno. I
’
m Andy Sinclair, your public defender.
”

Buzzing in my ears like a thousand horseflies kept me from hearing the rest. I stared at the young man, who seemed even younger than me, not believing he
’
d said what he said. Public defender? What happened to my high-priced legal shark, the one who was supposed to be the best? Panic overtook me, and I tried to get up and back away, but I was shackled to the conference table. I
’
d forgotten. The unexpected jerk at the end of the chain nearly took me down. At the last moment, the young man who claimed to be my lawyer was at my side to steady me.

“
Ms. Bruno, please be calm. Mr. Beck has been in touch with me. He wants you to know he
’
s working to get expert legal counsel to assist me, and that he
’
ll be here for your next visiting hours.
”

The wild racing of my heart began to slow as I took in the words. Rex hadn
’
t abandoned me. He was here. He
’
d explain what happened to the other lawyer. Meanwhile, this one at least seemed kind.

“
Thank you.
”

“
It
’
s fine, Ms. Bruno. Now, why don
’
t you tell me in your own words why you pleaded Not Guilty.
”

Once more I went through the story. This young man was less able to conceal his feelings. When I told him how Octavio had shot Frank after knocking on the door while forcing me to stand where Frank could see me from the peephole, he jumped to his feet and began pacing. I stopped, unsure whether he wanted to hear the rest.

“
There were no witnesses?
”
he asked.

I had no answer for that. Surely it was a rhetorical question. If there had been witnesses, the FBI wouldn
’
t have spent four years chasing me, would they? Unless the witnesses thought they saw something that didn
’
t happen.

“
Why didn
’
t you go to the police with this?
”
he asked after a moment.

I started with my tale again, using as neutral a delivery as I could manage. Breaking down again when faced with the memory wouldn
’
t save my life. Someone had to listen and believe me.

“
I didn
’
t think about how it would look to run away after Frank was killed,
”
I admitted.
“
All I knew was I
’
d better get out of cartel territory as soon as possible when I escaped. The only trouble with that is there isn
’
t anywhere that isn
’
t cartel territory. I had to keep moving, change my name, and change my appearance as best I could. Otherwise I
’
d have been dead long ago.
”
Seeing his nod encouraged me to take it a step further.
“
I
’
ll tell you something else. Now that I
’
m in Dallas, they
’
ll do everything in their power to get to me in jail. They don
’
t want this to go to trial, because they know I
’
ll name Octavio. I was warned in Phoenix. I
’
m sure they have as much or more influence here than there. I
’
d be safest in solitary confinement.
”

“
No, you can
’
t mean that,
”
he said.
“
Solitary drives people insane.
”

“
Sure, in prison, for months at a time. I just mean I need a cell to myself, no cellmates.
”

“
Amanda, that
’
s not possible. Our jails are overcrowded,
”
he explained.

“
Then I
’
m as good as dead already,
”
I said. I dashed bitter tears from my eyes. Crying would do me no good. If I went back into a cell with red, puffy eyes, it would be like dropping a calf into a pool of piranhas. Weakness would get me torn to shreds.

“
I
’
ll do what I can,
”
he said.

“
Thank you for that, Mr. Sinclair.
”

“
Call me Andy.
”

I liked him. I just didn
’
t think he could give me an adequate defense. Maybe no one could.

I didn
’
t see Rex that day, or the next. By the third day, I didn
’
t know what to think, except that Rex had changed his mind and wasn
’
t coming after all. I
’
d have been ashamed of doubting him again, if I hadn
’
t been so relieved to see him on the fourth day. He brought with him a very well-dressed gentleman with distinguished looking gray sideburns.

“
T. Booker Jameson, at your service, miss,
”
he said. I automatically smiled at his old-fashioned manners, but Mr. Jameson was completely serious.

“
I
’
ll be taking over your defense, with your permission. Mr. Beck here has convinced me to do this
pro bono
. I
’
ll be working with your public defender, since I
’
m not licensed in Texas. I understand your plea is Not Guilty.
”

His rapid-fire delivery outstripped my ability to process what he was saying. I was still chewing on
pro bono
by the time he made his statement sound like a question.

“
Yes, Mr. Jameson, Amanda is not guilty.
”
Rex answered for me and snapped me into the present.

“
I
’
m bound by duty to tell you that I
’
m certain I can get the prosecution to take the death penalty off the table if you
’
ll plead guilty to a lesser charge
—
say, Murder Two.
”

“
But I didn
’
t do anything.
”

“
That isn
’
t the point. If we can
’
t mount an effective defense, you
’
ll risk being put to death. By pleading guilty, you take that risk away. You
’
re still a young woman. After fifteen or twenty years, you
’
ll be eligible for parole if we play our cards right.
”

I thought about it for all of two seconds.
“
No, thank you. Being in prison for fifteen years would be worse than death, and I wouldn
’
t last that long anyway. You think the cartel doesn
’
t have ways to kill me inside? I
’
ve lived like a scared rabbit for too long. Get me off or not, I
’
m not pleading guilty to something I didn
’
t do.
”

Jameson nodded and replied,
“
Good. I hoped you
’
d say that. Now, let
’
s get everything you remember and get to work.
”

TWENTY-SIX

Rex

T
oo soon, visiting hours were over for me. I
’
d have given anything to be with Amy for moral support while she went through the story yet again for her new lawyer. I had tried to forget the worst of it, or rather put it out of my mind, since she first told me. Together we
’
d concealed the worst of it from the band, and now it would all come out. It was going to shred her, and there was nothing I could do to shield her from it.

My own guilt over leaving her behind when Mom divorced Amy
’
s dad made my hurt for her all the worse. If only we
’
d taken her with us! We hadn
’
t had it much better, but I could have protected her from beatings, at least. At seventeen, I
’
d bulked up enough to protect my mom. When I thought of the little girl who watched us go with such sadness, it brought me to my knees.

I
’
d never known her as a teen, but I could imagine her fear, shame, and pain when she ran away only to be forced into prostitution. I tried not to. It paralyzed me with grief and rage. When my dreams punched through my wall of self-preservation, I used to wake up yelling, wild with the need to personally choke the life out of the men who had hurt her. When she
’
d been with me at those times, she would soothe me back to sleep with the assurance that she was fine. She
’
d survived.

But now Amy wasn
’
t with me. She was in jail, waiting for strangers to pick over her actions and condemn her for them, convict her of someone else
’
s action, knowing nothing of what she
’
d been through. To think now that she could actually die in that fucking bastard
’
s place consumed me with helpless fury.

To distract myself during the long hours when there was nothing to do but obsess over the unfairness of it all, I wrote. I poured my emotions out into lyrics of love and despair, and then tried to put music to them. I needed Axel and Cole to help with the music, but they weren
’
t there, which pushed me further into the dangerous depression I could feel creeping over me. I could see it, but I couldn
’
t do anything to stop it no matter how I fought for Amy
’
s sake. As days passed, I began haunting bars at night, playing and singing for drinks and tips.

Eventually, Amy noticed. Maybe it was the deep black circles under my eyes from not sleeping. Maybe it was something I said. Whatever it was, she brought me up short.

“
Rex, what are you doing to yourself? You
’
re killing me. Pardon the pun.
”

I stared at her, unable to process her gallows humor. When I didn
’
t laugh, she turned more serious.

“
I want you to go back to LA. Do what you can to salvage your career. You
’
re driving yourself and me crazy hanging around here. The trial won
’
t take place for months. Come back then. Or not. Just get out of here, before you begin to hate me for sinking your career.
”

“
Amy
…”

“
I mean it. I don
’
t want to see you again until the trial. I
’
m going to put you on the list of people I won
’
t see if you don
’
t leave voluntarily.
”
Her expression was hard. She meant every word, even though I knew she only meant them because she thought it was the right thing for me.