“Thank you, Hal.”
His lawyer gave him a hug and whispered, “Stay strong, Nick. We’ll win this.”
When he was back in his cell after Hal left, Nick stretched out on the thin, narrow mattress of the single bunk. At least he didn’t have to share a cell with anyone. As Hal had mentioned, the jail was full tonight, mostly with drunks. One individual, a man of indeterminate age in the cell across from him, serenaded them with a terrible, tone-deaf rendition of a country song Nick could only vaguely make out. As the hours passed, the tedium grew, and with nothing else to do but think of why he was in here listening to a drunk wail on, doubt and worry descended on him.
His primary concern was not his arraignment tomorrow or the pre-trial meeting or even the trial—if it went that far. It was Beth
