The bell dinged. PH flashed above the doors. Leigh put her mask back in place. A trim older woman wearing a black pantsuit and red mask stood waiting for her. It was like The Handmaid’s Tale, UGA version.
The woman said, “Ms. Collier, Mr. Bradley wants to speak with you privately in his office.”
Leigh felt a sudden jolt of dread. “Is the client here?”
“Mr. Tenant is in the conference room, but Mr. Bradley wanted a word with you first.”
Leigh’s gut twisted into a knot, but she had no choice but to follow the woman across the giant, open space. She stared at the closed conference room door. Her mind started racing through tortuous plots. Andrew had gotten Leigh fired. Andrew had gone to the police. Andrew had kidnapped Callie and was holding her hostage.
The ridiculousness of the last scenario helped spool her paranoia back inside its box. Andrew was a sadistic rapist, but he was no Svengali. Leigh reminded herself of her Andrew Hypothesis. All that he had were stray childhood memories and guesses about why his father had disappeared. The stupidest thing she could do right now was behave in a way that confirmed his suspicions.
“Through here.” Bradley’s assistant opened an office door.
Despite her return to logic, Leigh’s mouth had gone completely dry by the time she entered the office. No detectives or cops with handcuffs were waiting. Just the predictable red and black décor. Cole Bradley sat behind a giant marble desk. Files and papers were stacked around him. His light gray suit jacket hung on a rack. His shirtsleeves were rolled up. His face was bare.
She asked, “Will Andrew be joining us?”
Instead of answering, he indicated a red leather chair across from his desk. “Take me through it.”
Leigh wanted to kick herself for missing the obvious. Bradley wanted her to prep him so that he looked like he knew what he was talking about in front of the client.
She sat down. She took off her mask, opened her notepad, and dove straight in. “The victim’s audio ID of Andrew’s voice is confident during her initial interview. After his arrest, she chose him out of an audio line-up. She’s shaky on some things, but they used a forensic interviewer who took her into the story. His name is Sean Burke.”
“Never heard of him,” Bradley said.
“Me, either. I’ll find out what I can, but he’s a home run on the stand. I don’t know how Tammy Karlsen, the victim, will play out. She’s very sympathetic in the recorded interview. On the night of the attack, she wasn’t dressed provocatively. She didn’t drink that much. She doesn’t have a criminal record. No DUIs. No speeding tickets. Credit record is solid. Student loans are almost paid off. I’ll dig into her social media, but she’s got a master’s in software engineering from Tech. She’s probably scrubbed anything that’s bad.”
“Tech,” he said. UGA’s long-running rival. “How sympathetic is she?”
“There’s no question about lack of consent. She got the absolute hell beaten out of her. She gave a firm no during the attack. The pictures alone buy her a massive amount of compassion.”
Bradley nodded. “Evidence?”
“There’s a muddy shoe print consistent with a Nike size nine found in Andrew’s closet. I can argue that consistent isn’t exact. There are several deep bite marks, but there was no DNA found when they swabbed the wounds, and the prosecutor wouldn’t dare try to put up an odontologist when he knows I can easily debunk the junk science.” Leigh paused to take a breath. “The Coke bottle is more difficult. Andrew’s print was found on the bottom of the glass. Right pinky finger, but it’s a solid, peer-reviewed match from the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. There’s nothing else on the base of the bottle but fecal matter and the victim’s DNA. The attacker probably used gloves, and the pinky tore, or it’s a bottle that Andrew touched before the assault. He’s been to that park before.”
Bradley took a moment to process that last piece of information. “Problem areas?”
“On their side, Rohypnol is suspected, so I can argue temporary amnesia. Karlsen suffered a concussion, so traumatic amnesia is a given. I’ve already put two specialists on standby who are very good with a jury.” Leigh paused to look down at her notes. “On our side, the crime scene photos are horrific. I can keep some out, but even the okay ones are bad for Andrew. I can try to shake the audio identification of Andrew’s voice, but, like I said, it comes off as very confident both times. I’ve seen the prosecutor’s list of possible witnesses and they’ve got a forensic audio expert I would’ve used if they hadn’t snagged him first.”