Page 77 of Dead Mountain

But Skip wasn’t listening. “How old will I be when I get out?” he moaned. “Forty? Fifty?”

“Let’s focus on the case. The DA has decided to go ahead and seek attempted murder, which is clearly an overreach, a kind of extortion to get you to plead. So you need to think about pleading—”

“I’m innocent!” Skip cried. “He started it! He attacked my sister! And then he tampered with evidence!”

“Easy now,” said Lightfeather. “This isn’t the place or time to confer attorney to client, but I just want you to think about pleading, okay? The sheriff’s holding most of the cards.”

“I’ll be branded a felon the rest of my days!”

“Skip,” Nora said, “please calm down and listen to Mr. Lightfeather.”

“My life is ruined! So is yours! I’ve ruined everything!”

Everything Skip had kept locked inside during those dark hours behind bars was pouring out, like liquid from a broken bottle. He wasn’t listening—he just needed to vent.

“Skip,” said Nora, “why did you go to that bar?”

“I’ll tell you why.” Skip suddenly changed his tone. “I was getting someplace. I met people in that bar that I’m sure know Hawley’s dirty. All we have to do is dig a little deeper—”

Now it was the lawyer’s turn to interrupt. “Skip, this is not a viable strategy. Allegations from a couple of drunks in a bar aren’t going to help you. Even if they were true, they wouldn’t be admissible in court. Listen to me: going rogue, trying to solve this on your own, that kind of attitude is only going to harm you in court. With the jury.”

“So what the hell would you suggest? Plead guilty? Assure everybody that lying sack of shit was telling the truth and didn’t assault my sister? Perjure myself to save his skin—and then go to prison, to boot? No way!”

At that moment the guard returned. “Time’s up,” he said, leaning forward to cuff Skip once again.

For a terrible moment, Nora thought Skip might resist. His eyes widened, he called her name . . . but then his whole body seemed to go limp, and he allowed himself to be hoisted to his feet.

“We’ll talk soon,” said Lightfeather. “Think about a plea bargain.”

Skip was led out of the tiny room without looking back.

Another harrowing journey through locked doors and past iron bars, and then Nora was out in the visitors’ lounge once again. She looked at Lightfeather.

“He’s in denial,” the lawyer said. “It’s common. I’ll make another appointment with him, and I’m sure by then he’ll have thought things through a little better.”

“But he’s got a point,” she said. “Doesn’t being innocent matter?”

Lightfeather sighed. “Of course it matters. But life is fundamentally unfair. Hawley isn’t going to back down, and most of the judges and prosecutors are either friends or else owe him a favor. They’re going to play hardball.”

“Can’t we request a change of venue?”

“We could, but we’d be on very shaky ground. And if it failed, we’d be worse off than when we started. As it is, we have to contend with the fact he violated conditions of release, even if unintentionally.”

All this lawyerly verbiage made Nora want to scream. She couldn’t get the image of Skip out of her head—she’d never seen him look so panicked, so beaten down. He’d gone through periods of depression during and after college, heavily lubricated by tequila, but he’d managed to shake them off.

“Just lay it out for me,” she said. “Please. What kind of plea deal are we talking about?”

Lightfeather looked at her closely. “Attempted murder is a second-degree felony, punishable in New Mexico by up to fifteen years in prison. If Skip’s convicted on that, he’d probably be out in seven with good behavior. There’s a decent chance I can plea bargain the prosecutor down to aggravated assault . . . but that’s still a felony, with a possible eighteen-month sentence, of which Skip would do half. And if Hawley wants to really twist the knife, he can argue for a sentencing enhancement, which would expose Skip to a longer stretch. The prosecutor’s been coy on that point.”

“And if Skip doesn’t plea down?”

“Then he’ll go to trial for attempted murder of a law officer, most likely with a hostile jury, and the judge could easily sentence him to the full stretch. Now, listen, Nora—next time I’m going to talk to him alone. Let’s give him a couple of days to cool down. That usually does the trick. But later . . . well, he’s—forgive me—a stubborn, idealistic fellow. Even though seeing you obviously agitates him, I may need your help persuading him to plead.”

“Plead guilty,” Nora repeated bitterly. “When we know the sheriff is a goddamned liar and Skip did nothing wrong.”

“Some world we live in, isn’t it? Now—can you do that for me? Stay away for a couple of days, let me see him on my own?”

Nora nodded.

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