“How would you make him plead, Miss Everhart?” Will asked again.
“No contest,” she said quickly.
“No contest?” He sounded slightly impressed. “Why so?”
“He doesn’t have a license to carry, so I’m sure the prosecution will try to make it seem like he carried that gun into the bank for a reason. Regardless of if he only hurt himself, he’s looking at a prison sentence, so we could bypass the trial and try to limit it to the lowest terms possible.”
I blinked, refusing to believe that her answer was anything more than a coincidence. As a matter of fact, as soon as she started to further explain her logic, I knew that it was; only a student would start talking about “emotional appeal” right after a no contest plea.
As Will and George continued to pepper her with questions, I googled variations of that federal gun case. “Man fires gun in bank.” “No contest plea in federal bank case.” “Man injures himself in bank shooting.”
Still, nothing.
“Miss Everhart, are there any lawyers that you wish to model your own career after?” Greg asked.
“Yes, actually,” she said. “I’ve always admired the career of Liam Henderson.”
“Liam Henderson?” I raised my eyebrow. “Who is that?” Usually, interviewees named a federal judge, a well-known prosecutor, or a familiar district attorney. But an unknown? Never.
“Well, he made history as the youngest lawyer to ever uncover a government conspiracy, and he—”
I tuned out her answer. I’d just thought of another phrase to google.
“Interesting choice, Miss Everhart,” Will said. “Do you have any current mentors in the law profession besides your family members?”
“I do.”
“Are you in close contact with this mentor? If so, how often?”
“We talk almost every day, so I’d like to think that we’re close.”
Why isn’t this case popping up? If it’s a “federal” bank shooting, it should be plastered all over the papers...
“Would your mentor be able to speak to us, or send a letter regarding your character?” Will was definitely impressed with this woman, and she had this job. The second set of questions he had yet to ask weren’t really necessary.
“I’m sure I could ask him to do that if need be,” she said just as I was starting a new web search.
“Great. So, tell us, what’s the last bit of advice that your mentor gave you?”
I looked at my watch. As soon as today’s interviews were over, I was going to call Alyssa about this case. Maybe she’d fudged some of the details to continue shrouding her identity.
“When I told him I was nervous about my interview today,” Miss Everhart said softly, “he told me, it is what it is.”
My head immediately shot up.
“Did he now?” George clutched his chest, laughing. “That sounds like something our Andrew would say!” He patted me on the shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Andrew?”
“Yes.” I narrowed my eyes at ‘Miss Everhart.’ “That sounds exactly like something I would say...”
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be sure to tell my mentor that someone actually enjoys his odd sense of humor.”
“Please do.” I watched as she answered the next questions with ease, as she barely blinked her big blue eyes when the questions became tougher. And the more I heard her talk, the more I heard the familiarities of her speech pattern, I had to force myself not to f**king lose it.
One coincidence was fine, but two? Damn near unfathomable.
As they asked her about her favorite inspirational quotes, I scrolled down to Alyssa’s number and dialed. I knew for a fact that she never silenced her phone for some strange reason, and I had to know if what I was thinking was true, or if my mind was playing a cruel joke on me.
I could see the rings on my phone’s screen, see the seconds as they passed, and when it rang three times, I let out a huge sigh of relief. But then the sound of bell chimes filled the room.