“Don’t enter a plea,” Griffen said. “Not yet. Prentice has only been dead a week. West hasn’t been able to find anything new, but let me look around. Investigations aren’t my specialty, but I used to work with the best. I’ll get someone down here to dig up something Cole can use—”
“The clock is ticking,” Cole said from where he leaned against the wall. “The prosecutor isn’t going to leave the plea deal open forever. And once it’s gone— The rest of your life is a lot to gamble with.”
Ford looked away.
“It’s been a fucking week,” Griffen growled at Cole. “A week. We need more time.”
Cole shook his head. “You don’t get it. This is an open and shut case. It doesn’t matter if he did it. What matters is they have a mountain of evidence against Ford and this is a high-profile case. Have you thought about the optics? Ford Sawyer, heir to billions, murders his father in an attempt to take control of the Sawyer empire and gets caught in the act. It’s a miracle the town isn’t overrun with news vans right now. If your father hadn’t been so insistent on privacy, kept the Sawyer name out of the papers, they’d be here already. A case like this will make the prosecutor’s career. She can’t wait to put him on the stand and make him look like an entitled, rich asshole who thought he could get even more by killing his father.”
“I didn’t kill my father!” Ford shouted, slamming his hands on the table, the chains clattering against the metal.
“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Cole roared back. “She’s going to destroy you, Ford. She’ll drag up the past—you conspiring to get Griffen disinherited and stealing his fiancée. Gradually taking over more and more of the family business. It shows long-range planning. You got rid of the original heir, edged out your other siblings, and when the time was right, you took out your father so you could have it all.”
Ford opened his mouth, but Cole cut him off. “Shut the fuck up. Unless you can hand me a single piece of evidence that disproves the prosecution’s case, then just shut the fuck up. I’m not here to defend your honor, you asshole. I’m here to save your life.”
“They’re not going to give him the death penalty,” Griffen said.
“And you know that for sure? You can guarantee it? Because that’s what the prosecutor wants. I’ll give it everything I have to get her to back down to life in prison, but goddamn it, Ford, is that what you want? Life in prison? Is your honor worth giving up your future?”
Griffen took a deep breath. I wanted to take his hand again, to offer comfort, but I didn’t like the way Ford was looking at us.
“Give me three weeks,” Griffen said, reaching across the table to his brother. “Three weeks. If my guy can’t find anything, then we can reconsider. We’ve got a lot of shit between us, but you’re my brother. I’m not going to give up on you. Don’t give up on yourself.”
Ford stared across the table, examining Griffen for an endless minute before shrugging a shoulder. “Why the hell not? It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
“Ford,” Cole cautioned.
“Three weeks,” Griffen said, ignoring Cole’s scowl.
“Three weeks,” Ford agreed.
Cole barely spoke to us on the ride back to town. I didn’t know anything about criminal law, but I’d always thought these things took forever to get to trial. Why was he in such a rush to get Ford to plead guilty? He was known as one of the best—Prentice had always joked that if he ever got caught he’d want Cole Haywood on his side.
Caught at what, I didn’t want to know.
Maybe Cole didn’t want a high-profile loss on his record. He’d said there would be media coverage. Was he trying to avoid coming out the loser?
Cole dropped us off at the police station with only, “I’ll be in touch,” as a goodbye. That was fine; I think Griffen and I were both tired of hearing what Cole had to say.
We retrieved the black forest cake from J.T. and headed back to Heartstone Manor. It was late afternoon, and we’d both missed lunch. I was about to suggest texting Savannah to ask for a snack when we pulled up to the end of the drive, right at the point where we could continue straight to the courtyard in front of the house or turn left to drive around through the porte-cochère to the garages.
We’d been parking in the garage for the last few days, an easy choice, considering they were one of the only places in the house in good condition. And an easier choice just then considering the cars that crowded the front courtyard.
It looked like Griffen’s siblings had finally come home. I glanced over at Griffen, saw the fatigue drawn on his face. “Why don’t we forget work for the rest of the day? You were saying earlier you needed to go for a run. I’ll cover for you. Go change and get out of here for a little bit. Clear your head before you have to face dinner with the family.”