An Accidental Life by Pamela Binnings Ewen Read Free Book Online

balance takes compromise, Rebecca mused, and she’d never been good at that. She’d learned early and well from Mama that no compromise, no sacrifice, would ever be enough . . . you just had to keep on plowing. Since those days, since Elise had died, she’d figured it out for herself. You had to win to be best, and whatever it was you were shooting for, you had to win it on your own and then learn how to keep it.
    “Now you, on the other hand . . .” Amalise was saying. Amalise’s eyes sparkled as she pushed back her chair. She stood and picked up the empty bottle. “I fully expect that one day you will hold the office of managing partner of Mangen & Morris.”
    With a stiff smile, Rebecca glanced at her watch. Suddenly she realized that she was late; the meeting in the conference room upstairs had started long ago. They continued chatting as they moved toward the elevator.
    Rebecca pressed “Up,” and Amalise pressed “Down.” With relief, Rebecca realized that the nausea was still gone. Maybe this time it wouldn’t return. When Amalise’s elevator arrived and the door opened, as if sensing that something was still wrong, she turned and gave Rebecca a quick little hug before stepping on.

6
    On Tuesday morning the jury was empaneled. Peter gave his opening argument, and the defense offered theirs.
    The testimony moved quickly. The State’s case was strong, the evidence clear and tangible. The jury seemed entranced. The missing witness showed, to Peter’s great surprise. The detective had dispatched a team to find him. Several other witnesses testified that they’d been present when the shooting took place and one identified the shooter. And, they all held to their stories even under cross-examination. Peter was elated. If things kept up this way, he anticipated resting the State’s case in a day or two.
    So it was no surprise when the defendant’s attorney Johnny Wilcox wandered up to him at the beginning of the lunch recess and asked if they could talk. They used an empty witness room for the discussion. When at last they agreed and announced this to the court, the judge left the jury outside the courtroom while he went through the motions with the defendant and Wilcox confirming the deal, and the defendant’s understanding. The defendant was subdued, but Peter knew that twenty years without probation or parole wasn’t a bad deal for the State.
    Afterward, Peter took the elevator up to his office, thinking that he would call Rebecca immediately and tell her they could pack. The trip this weekend was on. Striding through the outer area, feeling good, he said hello to Molly Brown, his secretary.
    “Detective McAndrews left something on your desk,” she said.
    “Thanks.” She handed him a slew of messages and he went into his office.
    The large brown envelope was sitting on his desk. He hung his jacket on the coat rack in the corner, set the briefcase down on the floor beside his chair, and dropped the messages on the desk. Picking up the envelope, he saw that Mac had attached a note with Hand Deliver scrawled across the front in red.
    Peter loosened his tie and took a seat. The package was labeled “Baby Chasson.” He unsealed the envelope and pulled out the paper and photographs inside, the autopsy photographs and preliminary report from Dr. Stephanie Kand on the infant found in the freezer last week. Photographs were taken all along the way through an autopsy. The forensic analysis would come later.
    Baby Chasson. Just the tag evoked the picture of a healthy child, alert and alive. Peter’s good mood evaporated. With a feeling of dread he set the photographs aside and picked up the report.
    The report was objective and thorough. The infant body, a male—as Glory Lynn Chasson had said—arrived at the coroner’s office in a clear plastic bag to preserve the evidence. The infant had been wrapped in a small blue towel inside the bag. In the report Dr. Kand had set forth her conclusions first, before