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much less anything put in writing, would absolutely be discoverable at trial by the defense.
    They’d have a field day with it and end up making the entire investigation look like Keystone cops . . . Barney Fifes. The whole investigation could be tainted, and when the bad guy was caught, whoever he was, he and his defense team could make a joke of the investigation right in front of the jury.
    They all knew it, and the air hung heavy with the thought of it as the crew tried to regroup. Billings started directing the techs in heaving up the door and loading it onto a lean, pristine white sheet of plastic laid squarely onto the floor of a huge evidence transport truck.
    Hailey and Fincher turned and headed toward their car, walking across Alton Turner’s neatly mowed lawn. Out of respect, Hailey stepped off the grass and onto the white concrete drive.
    â€œHey, guys, wait up!” Billings called out after them when he spotted them heading toward the Fulton County Crown Vic at the edge of Alton Turner’s front lawn. He caught up with them in just a few long strides.
    â€œWhere you headed?”
    â€œI’m heading to my hotel and Fincher, where are you staying?” Hailey slowed and asked Finch.
    Finch grinned. “I’m not the TV star; the county’s putting me up at the Best Western.”
    â€œHey, it’s not so bad, close to downtown and there’s an IHOP next to it.” Billings painted a rosy picture.
    â€œThere’s nothing like IHOP . . . unless you count the Waffle House. We’re going to get a pizza first, aren’t we? Do we still have time?” Hailey glanced at the watch on Fincher’s wrist.
    â€œSure. Let’s go. We don’t have to be at the courthouse until 8 AM . Let’s go crazy.”
    â€œOK. Let’s go.”
    â€œOK you guys, see you there in the morning.” Billings smiled again.
    â€œYou’ll be at the trial?” Hailey asked, surprised.
    â€œSure. Nearly every guy on homicide had a part in the Julie Love Adams investigation. That Todd Adams is a piece of work. What an SOB.”
    â€œThat’s what we hear,” Fincher agreed.
    â€œAnd thanks for the backup.”
    â€œAnytime,” Fincher answered back. The two headed to the car, leaving footprints as they crossed over Turner’s manicured lawn.
    â€œWonder who did it?” Hailey said it first.
    â€œTodd Adams did it, of course.” Fincher answered quickly, surprised she had doubts about the Julie Love case.
    â€œ I don’t mean Julie Love, I mean . . . who killed Alton Turner? ”

CHAPTER SEVEN
    H ailey was one of the first people in the courtroom the following morning. At first blush, it appeared she was the very first. She didn’t spot another soul in the cavernous room or milling around outside its giant double doors. But Hailey could tell the prosecutor had been there earlier. The state’s counsel table was already covered with notes, books, binders, and stacks of documents. A flash of memory crossed Hailey’s mind, back to her trial days when she was pitted against one team of defense attorneys after the next, week after week in the pits of the inner city. Typically, they’d be well-heeled. Representing dopers was a very lucrative enterprise.
    The dope lawyers wore hand-tailored Italian suits, expensive shoes, and gold or jeweled cuff links, bracelets, rings, and necklaces gleaming at neck, wrists, and fingers. A single briefcase of theirs alone probably would have cost more than Hailey’s old Honda. But as of this morning, nothing was on the defense table. Not yet anyway.
    She could guess the explanation. At times, defense lawyers would not prep in the courtroom, but instead remain in the holding cell adjoining the courtroom with their client till the very last minute, trying their best to school them with last-minute instructions on how to walk, talk, and behave in front of the jury. Or better yet, talk them