American Lease (A Dylan Cold Novel Book 1) by K. D. McAdams Read Free Book Online

your state-appointed attorney,” she said. “I have some paperwork here for you to sign before we get started.” The short, slightly unkempt woman slid a thin folder across the table to Dylan.
    “Did they do that to you?” Elaine wrinkled her nose and gestured toward Dylan’s face.
    “Yeah, the FBI guy who just left smashed my face on the table and screamed at me,” Dylan answered.
    Elaine jotted a note onto a legal pad and rose from her seat. She disappeared through the door. Less than a minute later she returned with a handful of paper towels and a plastic bottle of water.
    “We’ll figure this out next,” she said.
    Dylan awkwardly wet the paper towels and dabbed at the blood he could feel on his upper lip. He had no idea what it looked like or if he was making any progress.
    Once he was done cleaning himself, Elaine said: “Sign here, here, and here. Print your name here, and initial there, and there.”
    It was difficult to sign with the handcuffs securing his wrists to the table. He was careful to read each document before signing them. They were basic contracts explaining confidentiality and his need to share information with her. There was nothing significant, and most importantly, no false confession.
    “Thank you,” Elaine said, and then she got right down to business. “Here’s what’s going to happen. In about forty minutes, they will bring you to a courtroom and indict you for murder. How are you going to plead?”
    “Innocent, because I am. Don’t they need evidence to indict me?” Dylan asked.
    “They will present their evidence to the judge, who will decide if it is enough to hand down the indictment. You have a bit of a lucky draw today, the judge is older and has traditionally been a stickler for a strong case,” Elaine explained.
    “So my drug screens came back negative and the tests for gun powder were negative. I’m not using and I haven’t fired a gun recently, so what evidence do they have that I shot someone?” Dylan’s voice rose above a conversational level.
    “How do you know your blood tests came back negative?” The lawyer began reading documents in a second, thicker folder.
    Dylan suddenly found himself pleading with Elaine. “Because I haven’t done drugs in six years, four months, and twenty-five days. It’s been even longer than that since I fired a gun.”
    No one had listened to him since this whole ordeal began. He needed just one person to take a minute and look at things objectively. In theory, that was Elaine’s job, and hopefully she would do it well.
    “So what’s your theory on why they like you for the murder?” Elaine asked. She never looked up from the papers.
    “I assume they found my dog with the dead cop. They checked his tags and found my name. When they went to my address, I wasn’t there. After pulling my record and seeing that I had a history of drug use, minor theft and some time in jail, they assumed I did it and ran,” Dylan said. “I didn’t do it and I didn’t run. I was kidnapped.” He worked to keep the story short and his voice under control.
    “Kidnapped?” The lawyer looked up from the papers, clearly confused.
    “Yes. The guy who shot the cop was also shot but not that bad. He had a gun on me and threatened to kill me if I didn’t drive him away.” Dylan felt a glimmer of hope.
    “So you helped him,” she said, stating a fact.
    “No! He had just killed a cop; he would have killed me if I didn’t do what he said. Check the car! There is blood in the back seat. There must be fingerprints in the back that match the prints in the front. My prints are only around the driver’s seat.” He couldn’t believe he was losing her.
    Elaine shuffled papers and scanned a few of them.
    “They found your prints on the steering wheel, ignitions, driver’s door…” She trailed off.
    “Any other prints?” Dylan asked.
    Elaine continued to read. “Yeah, lots of them, but no other hits in the database. No prints at all in the