Let Darkness Come by Angela Hunt Page B

“Travis Bystrowski.”
    Antonio steps into the room, narrowing his gaze as he scans the nameplates on several doors opening off the main area. He knows better than to expect the state’s top dog to try his son’s case, but he hopes the man has assigned the trial to someone with experience and a hunger for justice—
    He points to a door in the far corner of the room. “There. Bystrowski.”
    â€œA Polack.” Jason shakes his head. “Wouldn’t you know we’d draw a Polack?”
    â€œShut up.” Antonio lifts a warning finger. “You don’t say a word in that room, understand? You listen and let me talk.”
    Without waiting for his son’s response, Antonio shoulders his way through the sea of government workers and cheap furniture. The door to Bystrowski’s office is closed, but through the frosted glass he glimpses a human form behind a desk. He raps on the door.
    â€œCome in.”
    Bystrowski—a young man with short hair and a lean look—glances up from his reading when Antonio steps through the doorway. “Can I help you?”
    Antonio removes his hat. “My name is Antonio Tomassi, and this is my son, Jason. I understand you are the prosecutor assigned to my son’s case.”
    Bystrowski’s brow furrows until the name registers. “Tomassi—Jeffrey Tomassi.” He stands and offers his hand. “May I extend my sympathies to you both? And yes, I’ll be prosecuting the case.”
    Antonio shakes the man’s hand, then gestures to the chairs crowded against the wall. “May we?”
    â€œCertainly.” Bystrowski waits until Antonio has been seated before he settles back in his seat. “How can I help you, gentlemen?”
    Antonio looks around, taking in the diplomas on the back wall, the newspapers piled in the corner, the nameplate proclaiming Travis Bystrowski an assistant state’s attorney, the cigarette stubs in the ashtray. A half smile tugs at his mouth as he points to a length of curled ashes. “Are state’s attorneys allowed to smoke in public buildings?”
    â€œUm, no.” Bystrowski has the decency to flush as he dumps the ashtray into the trash. “I often work late, and if I’m alone up here—”
    â€œDon’t worry, Mr. Bystrowski, your secret is safe with me.” Antonio smiles, without humor. “We want to support you in any way possible. We want justice for Jeffrey.”
    Bystrowski glances from Antonio to Jason, as if he doubts the sincerity of their stated intention. “That’s what the state wants, as well. How much do you know about our progress with the case?”
    â€œWe know Erin has been arrested.”
    The attorney nods. “That’s correct. She was arraigned yesterday, and pleaded not guilty.”
    Antonio barely resists the urge to spit. “She killed him, of course. Who else could have?”
    â€œThe evidence certainly points to her,” Bystrowski says. “The police found no indication of a break-in. And her fingerprints were on the murder weapon.”
    â€œThe trial will be concluded quickly, then? No surprises from the defense?”
    â€œWell—” Bystrowski spreads his hands “—the defense can try to sell any cock-and-bull theory to win sympathy for the defendant. Sometimes, particularly if the defendant has money, they can hire expert witnesses that can convince a jury of almost anything.”
    â€œYou need not worry about the defense attorney,” Antonio says, satisfaction warming his face. “The woman is inexperienced in these matters.”
    Bystrowski gives him an uncertain smile. “You know Briley Lester?”
    Antonio shrugs. “I know she is no threat. Not only is she unskilled, but Erin has no money for experts and such. Jeffrey gave her everything, and she killed him for more.”
    Interest flickers in Bystrowski’s eyes. “We’ve been