After grabbing her briefcase, she opened the door. A reporter with perfectly coifed hair spotted her from across the hall. She grabbed her cameraman and ran towardAbigail.
“How does it feel to set a murderer free?” the reporter asked with a gleam inhereyes.
Abigail ignored her and hurried down the hall, but it was too late. Reporters surrounded her. They shoved microphones in her face and hollered a barrage of increasingly vindictivequestions.
“Did you fail atyourjob?”
“Are you still working at the DA’soffice?”
“Has your father calledyouyet?”
She shuddered as she took the courthouse steps two at a time. Outside, the murky Dallas air whipped across the portico. After racing down the stairs, she ran across four lanes of traffic toward the parking garage. The vicious reporters made it to the sidewalk just steps behind her, still yelling insultingquestions.
Inside the parking garage, she hurried past several rows of cars. When she finally spotted her BMW, she ran toward it. A group of reporters had already staked out the car. They jumped to their feet when theyspottedher.
“Will you ever get the images of Nate’s twisted little body out of your head?” a reporterasked.
“Get out of my way,” shesnarled.
“Do you have a drinking problem?” anotherasked.
“What? No,”Abigailsaid.
“Was theverdictfair?”
“Will you beappealing?”
As she stepped into the car, a reporter jammed her hand between the door and the frame in an effort to stop her from leaving. Abigail shoved the reporter. As soon as the woman released the door, Abigail slammed it and turned on the engine. She peeled out of the parking lot onto the road, grateful for the suddensilence.
The drive home only took twenty minutes. When she turned the corner onto her street, her breath caught in her throat. Browning was right. Everyone from CNN to NBC to CBS had camera crews and reporters staked out at her house. She whipped the car around before they could see her and raced back ontotheroad.
Nowwhat?
This morning, she’d woken up thinking she’d be a hero for putting a murderer in prison; now she was persona non grata number one. She wasn’t safe anywhere. Not at court, not at home, and certainly not anywhere in the state ofTexas.
For a moment, she considered calling her parents, but she couldn’t. The fact that they hadn’t already called her was nothing short of a miracle. Maybe her dad was too busy doing damage control. Family came second behind his political aspirations. As mayor, it wouldn’t be good for him to have a daughter who’d just lost the biggest case oftheyear.
She pulled onto Highway 287 north. She had no idea where she was headed, but she had to escape thisnightmare.
* * *
Cody stompedhis boots on the front porch of the Curvy Bear Bed & Breakfast. Clumps of snow fell from between the thick rubber treads. If he tracked snow through the entryway, Madison would give him an earful. He wasn’t in the mood to get yelled at, so he lifted each foot to inspect the boot beforeproceeding.
Satisfied, he opened the front door. He pulled off his boots and set them on a rack next to the door. After sliding out of his jacket, he hung it on the coat rack. He didn’t really blame Madison for being such a stickler for keeping the place clean. His mom would have been proud of her efforts had she still been alive. They all pitched in to keep the B & B in good shape. It was their way of honoring their parents who had worked so hard to make the ranch a successfulbusiness.
“Is that you, Cody?” Madison called from thekitchen.
“Yes,ma’am.”
He entered to find her teetering on a stepladder over thestove.
“Jesus, Madison. Get down from there.” He rushed to her side. “Mack will have an aneurysm if he finds out that you’re still climbingladders.”
“I’m only four months along. Why is everyone acting like being pregnant is an excuse to sit around eating bonbons all day?” she asked as she took hisoutstretchedhand.
“No one can accuse you of not having a good work ethic,”hesaid.
“I want to pull myweight.”
