For The Defense
A bereaved mother charged with murder and a dedicated lawyer determined to prove her client isn't guilty.What happens when the White Knight coming to their rescue is an actor turned private investigator?Jack Knight isn't used to having to prove himself to anyone. But that's exactly what he has to do. Because Diana Mason doesn't think he's the right man to find the evidence she needs to defend her client in court.After all, Jack joined his family firm only a year ago. He doesn't have the experience for a job like this. Does Diana dare to let him try when so much is on the line?
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Diana was looking forward to getting her co-workerâs opinion on several aspects of the murder case
But first she had to get things moving on Connie Pearceâs defense, which meant this meeting with the private investigator couldnât be delayed. Still, the second she saw the man waiting for her at reception, she came to an immediate stop.
He was in his early thirties, over six feet and wearing a hand-tailored suit that emphasized his wide shoulders and long legs. His thick, dark hair had been sculpted, not cut. His Technicolor blue eyes and wide-screen smile could easily stop a female heart at fifty feet.
He was Jack Knight. No wonder the receptionist had been so breathless. White Knight Investigations had sent her an actor!
Diana cursed to herself. What in the hell was she going to do now?
Dear Reader,
Courtroom dramasâwhere talented legal adversaries match wits and reveal shocking new evidence with every witness they call to the standâhave always been favorites of mine.
But once I had a chance to work on real criminal defenses, I met the unseen and unsung heroes of the legal processâprivate investigators. Without the skillful and dedicated private investigator tracking down both evidence and crucial witnesses, most defense attorneys wouldnât have the proverbial leg to stand on in a courtroom.
This is a story about a defense attorney and a private investigator fighting to free an accused woman. But it isnât full of the dramatics played out in front of judge and jury. Rather, the story focuses on how the two work together to build their case before the trial starts. Because the truth is thatâs how a case gets wonâor lost.
Now one expects defense attorney Diana Mason to win her case. Jack Knight of White Knight Investigations is her only hope. But what can Jack do when eyewitnesses verify the defendant committed the crime, and the defendant herself admits she did it? You might be surprised.
I hope you enjoy Jack and Dianaâs story. Drop a SASE in the mail to me (at P.O. Box 284, Seabeck, WA 98380) and Iâll send you an autographed sticker for the front of your book.
Warmly,
M.J. Rodgers
For MARGUERITE DUCHARME,
because her heart is filled with love.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER ONE
JACK KNIGHT COULD THINK of at least a dozen other places heâd rather be about now.
He rested his shoulder against the cold stucco wall as he watched the entrance to the gambling casino. The wind swirled rain up his nose and whipped the soggy rope of long, black hair against his neck. His pinched toes ached inside the beat-up triangle-toed boots heâd dug out of the Goodwill rejection bin. The chilly night air seeped through his threadbare overcoat, sending shivers up his back.
Being a private investigator was such cushy, glamorous work.
It was almost midnight. A minute before, heâd stood at the casinoâs window, watching the man cash in his chips and the woman heading for the rest room. They should be along anytime. Jack made sure the video camera lens was peeking through the enlarged buttonhole in the front of his ragged overcoat, his fingers firmly on the controls inside the torn pocket.
Places! Camera! Action! The words echoed in his head bringing a wry smile of amusement to his lips. A rain-drenched Indian Reservation was about as far away from a dry and comfortable television studio as a guy could get.
When the doors to the casino burst open, he tensed in anticipation.
The couple staggered out. The manâs face was flushed from too many drinks, the womanâs from having to lug him around for the past hour. His heavy arm was draped over her sagging shoulders. As they hobbled by, the womanâs eyes scanned Jack.
He knew what her look meant. Sheâd hold on to the man she was with only until a better offer came along.
When she was close enough to make out his filthy features in the shadows, Jack sent her a toothless grin. The woman grimaced and quickly turned back to her companion.
Jackâs grin faded as the couple headed toward the Lexus at the curb. This man and woman were such a pathetic cliché. Not even a burned-out soap writer would sink into the banality of including their characterizations in a script.
After using a keyless remote control to open the car door, the woman dumped her drunken companion onto the passenger seat and circled around to get behind the wheel.
When she drove away, Jack turned off the video camera. He didnât need to follow them. Heâd already filmed them in a body-crunching clinch that morning at the SEA-TAC airport. Heâd shot more footage of them that afternoon mauling each other on the open patio of the condo where the woman was living and chronicled their subsequent evening out on the town. Considering how much bourbon the man had put away, Jack doubted heâd be capable of any more debauchery tonight.
