Nick kept trying to visualize something of importance, but all he could get was that same ridiculous image of his desk. And that stupid drawer. He wanted to kick himself for digging up such worthless information.
Then, when he thought he'd have to sit there and dwell on his desk forever, something changed. Instead of the usual scraping sound of the food slot in the door, a louder sound shook him to full alertness. His cell door was being opened. Had he really counted seven days of food delivery? It seemed like less.
Nick sat on the bed and stared at the guard. His dry mouth croaked out a plea. "Wait. Not yet. I need more time."
The guard gave him a narrow look. "Get off your ass. Your lawyer wants to see you."
And I'd love to see her. But he wished he had more to tell her. Nick struggled to his feet and walked off with the guard. Stumbling down the hall in a daze, he could barely focus on standing up straight. "Have I really been here for a week?" The words came out of his mouth, but they had an alien quality that made him doubt his very existence.
"Nah. Just four days."
"Will you take me back there after I see my lawyer?"
The guard laughed. "Are you kidding? Not a chance. She was super pissed-off that you were in here. And she's got all sorts of connections, too. The sheriff ordered you back to your cell."
"My lawyer knows the sheriff?"
"Her family practically owns the sheriff. And the mayor. And just about everyone else who matters." The guard lowered his voice, as if someone was listening. "Don't ever get on the bad side of that woman."