Breaking Steele (Sarah Steele Legal Thriller)

Chapter 2 & 3

I DUG INTO MY oatmeal as I also dug into the morning paper. It was my ritual.

The paper ran a front-page article on the case. It often mentioned my name, Sarah Steele, the up-and-coming Assistant District Attorney. I smiled at the photo splashed on the front page. It was of me pushing my way through reporters, looking down to keep from tripping over a cameraman.

First, I noticed how long my blonde hair was getting. I was due for a cut. Second, I noticed how it seemed like the cameraman was pointed more at my legs than my face. At first I felt offended, but then I had to concede that it was a nice shot. I worked out almost every day, either with the girls at the dojo or running around the lake. Exercising got my mind off things—work, friend drama, my mom, my latest screw up with a boyfriend, but most of all the constant storm of memories trying to drown me.

I did not look much like the average ADA, with my blonde hair and light blue eyes. My looks did, however, lend to many deadbeat ex-boyfriends. I thought by the time I was twenty-eight I would be married with three bratty kids running around, and a rodent dog. So much for plans.

I scanned the rest of the article. It went into the nature of the crime, and wrote a little about me and how I was a foster care system brat turned successful attorney. It had only been two years since I graduated, and being young and a woman didn’t exactly make me target number one for a high profile job. But I was tough, and even when I wasn’t, I faked it. This business did not allow me to be off—ever.

This case had me worried, though. Hank Williams and his group of sharks always sat with smug looks on their faces, making me think they had something up their sleeves. I mentally scanned what we had on him, and shook my head. We had an overwhelming amount of evidence, but that’s what worried me.

It was too easy.

We had the body, with trace evidence still on her and in her. We had his DNA and his prints on the stun gun he used to kill her. The police picked Hank Williams up just south of town, at an abandoned farmhouse in foreclosure. He was asleep next to a tub full of bloody water. The neighbor had called the police. It was about as open and shut as it could get.

I sipped my green tea with a hint of honey, and breathed in its steam. Drinking it made me feel clean inside. I never went a morning without it. By the end of the day I needed thick, black coffee, but I always wanted to start fresh.

My apartment overlooked the beautiful Boise skyline, and this morning the haze seemed a little heavier then usual. Nothing like crisp, clean, city air. And we had it most of the time, but not this week.

My cell phone buzzed and I looked at the number. It was Angela. I answered as I took my bowl to the sink.

“I saw your picture in the paper,” she said in her sweet girly voice with a hint of an Italian accent. “And my mom finally believes you really are an important person.”

I laughed. “I tried to convince my mom of the same thing, but didn’t succeed.” I rinsed my bowl off and set it in the dishwasher. “Are you prepared for the tournament today?” The girls had a regional kickboxing tournament they’d been training for. It killed me that I had to miss it, but this trial had me working long hours without many breaks.

“I just need you to wish me luck before I leave.” Her voice muffled and I heard Jessie and Cassandra yell, “Wish us luck, too. She can’t have all the luck.”

“Good luck,” I shouted with a laugh. “Each of you are powerful inside and out. Angela, remember not to stray too close to your opponent during the fight. Jessie, follow through with your roundhouse. Cassandra, your left jab is your greatest strength, don’t forget to use it. And remember to have fun.”