Her rumpled lawyer articulated her concerns. “It would be extremely difficult to make a case that you were framed, Natalie.”

No one spoke for a moment, but she clocked the glances exchanged between her legal team and her mother. Then Matthew Hawley’s watery brown eyes found hers.

“The prosecution has offered a plea deal, and we advise you to accept.”

“What kind of plea deal?” Her mom asked.

“We can waive the indictment and plead guilty by way of superior court information. The DA won’t budge on second-degree murder. This case has caught the media’s attention, and prosecutors don’t like to go easy on defendants when the public is watching. But the DA is open to sentence bargaining.” Hawley turned his attention from Allana to Nat.

“We’ll get you as little time behind bars as possible, Natalie. With your clean record and the dysfunctional nature of your relationship with the victim, I think we can get you five years in custody, the remainder served on probation.”

Blood rushed through her ears, her vision blurred. She couldn’t spend five years of her life in jail. She wouldn’t survive it. Through the fog, she heard her mother’s shrill voice. “Five years? She’s just a kid!”

“If we took this to trial, she could get fifteen to life,” Hawley said. “Natalie has motive. She has no alibi. And the circumstantial evidence is damning.”

It was. Even as laymen, Nat and her mother could see that.

“And we don’t like your chances with a jury. The fact that you were in a paid, sexual relationship with the victim casts you in a negative light. The jury, especially the women, will consider you a person of low moral character.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s a murderer,” Allana said, her indignation colored by doubt. Would a jury be able to distinguish between a girl who would sleep with an older man for money and one who would kill him when it all turned sour?

“You’ll have to allocute,” Hawley continued. “That means you’ll plead guilty to second-degree murder in front of the judge, the press, and Gabriel Turnmill’s loved ones.”

A bubble of sick rose into Nat’s throat. She would have to admit to murder. In front of her parents, the media, Gabe’s wife, maybe even his daughter. Please, not Violet. It would be too perverse. “Go home and think about it,” Hawley instructed, gathering his files. “Give us a call when you’ve made a decision.”

“We’ll sleep on it,” Allana said as they all stood. But it was a platitude only. Everyone in the room knew that Nat would accept the deal.

She had no choice.

53

The Revelation

They slept in the same bed that night, Natalie and her mom, cuddled together like they had when Nat was little, after her father had left. It was nostalgic and comforting and Nat was able to sleep, despite the decision hanging over her. She woke in the wee hours of the morning to her mom’s muffled sobs, Allana’s body shaking with contained emotion. Her mother was crying with loss and, possibly, relief. Her daughter would spend five years behind bars. But Allana would get her life back.