Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
VON
Alex opens the car door for me and I step out into the afternoon sunshine.
Noah and I were quiet on the ride here. I’ve been thinking about what will happen once the trial is behind us. My caseload will pick back up again, that’s for sure, which means more hours at the office. And I don’t think Noah wants to move to the city. But Magnolia Bay is only a helicopter ride away. We can handle that, right?
Daisy waves at us from the lodge. I wave back. It’s good to see the estate doing so well. Autumn is my favorite season on the North Fork, the trees alight with color, the leaves on the vines turning gold. I bet Mom’s garden is ablaze with fall hues.
“Take those into the blue study, would you, Alex?” I ask him as he starts to unload the case files.
“Right away, Miss Von,” he says.
I may as well work from the study where Caden began this whole thing, with his little murder board and all his theories. He found the letters Mom hid from her stalker in the desk drawer in there. So it feels like the appropriate place to set up shop.
No one seems to be home as we head inside. I have the urge to take Noah’s hand, the way we used to back in the city. It’s become such a comfort to me. But we can’t show affection here.
Tonight though…I’m sneaking out to the guesthouse to be with him.
As we walk further into the house, a delicious scent catches my attention. I hear the faint strains of Taylor Swift and when we enter the kitchen, Isla is standing at the counter with an enormous mound of dough in front of her. There’s a smudge of flour on her cheek and she wears an apron with a daisy pattern on it as she cheerfully punches the dough and sings along to London Boy .
“Hi Isla,” I say, instinctively taking one step away from Noah to create some space between us.
“Oh my god, you’re back!” Isla rushes over to hug me then stops herself and looks at her hands, covered in sticky dough. “Sorry, I’m a mess. Hi, hi!”
“What are you making?” Noah asks.
“Focaccia,” she replies. “Got a big order through my website for a baby shower. Fall themed. I’m doing cupcakes next.” She wipes at the flour on her cheek with the back of her hand, making the smudge even bigger. “Caden is picking up Sebastian from the airport now—he’s going to stay at the Thorn for a few days while he checks out the Everton property. Caden says his visa will be ready next year. Alistair is in the city with Russell, and Finn is at some city council meeting. Oh Noah, I’m so glad you’ll be staying in the guesthouse. It will be nice to have you close. Pop is going to stay with Charlotte’s parents to avoid the press during the trial. We all thought it was best for him not to be driving back and forth from the cabin.”
“Oh, that’s great,” Noah says, looking relieved.
“And look who’s here!” Isla says, pointing out the window. A copper-colored lab lounges in the grass by the entrance to Mom’s garden, soaking up the October sun.
“Penny!” Noah cries and the next instant he’s out the door, bounding down the wide stone steps of our back terrace. Penny leaps to her feet at the sight of him, barking joyfully as he falls onto the grass so she can pounce on him, licking his face while he laughs and rubs her belly. I feel a softening in my chest as I watch them, a warmth spreading through me. I want to kick off my shoes and go roll around in the grass with them.
I glance at Isla and quickly smooth out my expression. “That was nice of you,” I say. “Does Dad know?”
“It was Caden’s idea,” she says.
“Ah,” I say. “That tracks.”
Only Caden could convince Dad to let an animal stay on the property. “So, are you living here now?” I ask.
“Oh god no,” Isla says. “Sorry. No offense.”
I laugh. “None taken.”
“Caden and I mostly stay at my place, but I needed to use the kitchen. It’s easier to bake here once I’m done at the Thorn. I’m not in the way if my parents need to prepare anything for the guests.” She goes back to punching the dough.
“Business going well?” I ask, sliding onto a stool at the island, my gaze drifting out the windows to where Penny is chasing Noah around the yard.
“It is,” Isla gushes. “I’m so surprised. Charlotte isn’t, of course—she keeps telling me she knew this would happen and she can’t believe it took me so long to start selling my pastries. Eric at Perks has a standing order now. And Caden thinks I should open my own café!”
“You absolutely should,” I tell her.
She beams. “I just need to save up some money first. And there’s contracts to sign and property taxes and stuff. I’ve been reading up on it a bit. It all feels kind of overwhelming. ”
“Good thing you’ve got an in with someone who knows a thing or two about contracts,” I say.
Isla’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “You—you would help me with all that?”
“Of course,” I say. “I mean, I’m no expert on real estate. But if you wanted someone to?—”
“Yes!” Isla cries. “Oh my god, Von. That would be amazing. Thank you. Seriously!”
“I haven’t done anything yet,” I say.
“You’re being a really great friend,” Isla declares. “That’s enough.”
Heat warms my cheeks, and I turn away from her to hide my smile and check the time. “I should get the dog whisperer out there ready for the hearing.”
I head out into the sunshine and give a sharp whistle.
Penny’s head whips around and before I know it, she’s bounding over and up the stairs to shove her face in my crotch. “Good to see you too,” I say, sinking my hand into her warm, coppery fur. Noah comes hurrying up the steps, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bright.
“Ready?” he says.
“I am.” I brush a piece of grass out of his hair. “But you need to change your shirt.”
“Right,” he says. “Let me grab my bag.”
He heads inside and I turn to see Isla is watching us thoughtfully, her head cocked to one side. Shit, I hope she didn’t see me touching his hair. I’ve got to be more careful. One whisper to the Magnolia Grapevine and this gets out, I’ll be taken off the case and fired immediately. No way Harold would approve of any of his attorneys breaking ethics like this.
I take Noah to the guesthouse, which is past the tennis court, nestled in a little cove of trees. It’s painted white, the interior decorated in shades of blue and cream. There’s a small kitchen and living room, and a bedroom with a king bed and a large window overlooking the bay. He drops his bag on the bed and scoops me up into his arms.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my neck and making me shiver. “I know we can’t but?—”
I slant my mouth over his, sinking my fingers into his hair. I know. I want it too. Every fiber of my being is hyperaware of him, every nerve ending aching for his touch. Our kiss is long, and slow, and deep. I finally pull away.
“Tonight,” I say, and he nods, even as his gaze drops to my mouth.
“Tonight,” he says.
“Get changed.”
He gives me a mock salute. “Yes ma’am.”
Ten minutes later, Noah is in a clean white button down, and Alex is driving us to the courthouse. I grit my teeth as I see a handful of reporters gathered around the steps. Not nearly as many as there will be for the trial. They rush toward us as we get out of the car. Noah keeps his head down as I repeat, “No comment,” over and over until we reach the foyer. Grayson is waiting for us just past security.
“The gang’s all back together again,” he says, offering us coffees from a cardboard tray.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I say.
“I live to please.” Grayson gives Noah a quick appraisal. “Don’t you look handsome.”
Noah grins. “Just wait till you see me in one of those fancy suits Von had made for me.”
“Oh honey, I am counting the days,” Grayson says with a wink. “This way. We’re in a conference room on the second floor.”
We walk upstairs and I feel the energy kick in, the rush of adrenaline that comes with court. Whether it’s a trial or voir dire or depositions, I love the high of a case finally starting, that feeling of going into battle. And this time, the feelings are even stronger, because I’m on the side of the innocent. This battle is a righteous one. It’s a thrill I haven’t experienced before, and determination hardens inside me.
I’m going to kick Wilbur’s ass.
I smooth back my hair as Grayson opens the door for me. Judge Warner and Wilbur are standing on the far side of the room, deep in conversation. A stenographer sits at a chair next to the head of the table.
The two men break apart. “Good afternoon,” the judge says, sitting down beside the stenographer. Wilbur takes a seat and Grayson, Noah, and I sit opposite him.
“Good afternoon, your honor,” I say as Grayson pulls out our stack of motions and slides them in front of me.
“I trust you’ve had enough time to prepare?” he says coldly, his tone telling me he hasn’t forgotten the slight of being forced to push this hearing back. I keep a neutral, polite smile on my face.
“We have, your honor, thank you,” I say.
“Let’s get started, shall we?”
“The defense moves for a change of venue,” I say, handing him the brief. He flips through it as I continue. “My client is widely known to the community, as was the victim. This case has been in the papers both locally and nationally. It would be impossible to find an impartial jury in?—”
“Motion denied,” Judge Warner says, putting the brief down and looking up at me. “Next?”
Noah shifts in his chair but I’m unperturbed. “Motion to exclude the fingerprint,” I say, handing the judge another brief. Wilbur chuckles and my eyes flash to him. “I’m sorry, is this funny?” I ask.
“No,” he drawls. “Just predictable. Your honor, that fingerprint is damning physical evidence. It was lifted off the bullet casing using cutting edge technology?—”
“Technology that has not yet been vetted thoroughly by the state,” I say. “It was an FBI lab. ”
“You think the state lab is going to do better work than the Feds?” Wilbur says incredulously.
“I think I would like to rely on technology that is not in its infancy,” I reply tartly.
“Motion denied,” Judge Warner says. I don’t think he’s even reading a word of the briefs. He flips through every single one I pass him dutifully and says, “Denied,” after each one. No cameras in the courtroom? Denied. Motion to dismiss? Denied. That one I knew didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell, but I wanted to make as many motions as possible, on the slight chance one of them would stick.
When we finish, Wilbur is giving me a smile so smug, it should be illegal. “Here’s our list of witnesses,” he says, sliding a paper over to me. I give it a cursory glance and my stomach flips.
“Everything all right, Miss Everton?” the judge says.
I look at Wilbur. “This is basically the entire town.”
Wilbur shrugs. “I maintain the right to call anyone who was at the party the night before the shooting. Isla Davenport’s testimony will show the stalker was in attendance. These are all relevant potential witnesses.”
This is bullshit. I don’t think someone like Eric Kim is going to have any relevant information, but I see what Wilbur is up to. He wants me spinning my wheels, wasting my time interviewing the population of Magnolia Bay. Another name on the list catches my eye. “You’re calling my father as a witness?”
Wilbur nods. “He found Marion that morning. He can establish the timeline.”
“It’s your funeral,” I mutter. Dad isn’t going to be happy about that.
I slide my own witness list across the table to Wilbur, who looks it over.
“Who is Patrick Forrester?” he asks.
“A witness,” I say, trying to sound casual.
“A witness to what?” Wilbur asks .
“Do you want me to present my case right now? I thought we would wait until the trial starts for that.”
Wilbur glances at the judge, a flicker of worry in his eyes. But Judge Warner doesn’t meet his gaze.
“Very well,” he says. “We’ll reconvene for jury selection on December first.”
He stands and sweeps out of the room, Wilbur hot on his heels. The stenographer scurries out of the room and Noah, Grayson, and I head back down to the foyer.
“That went well,” Grayson says dryly.
“I knew all our motions would get denied,” I say. “I just thought he might do a better job of pretending to read them.”
Grayson chuckles. “I’m shocked you didn’t go for the jugular when he called you Miss.”
I grimace. “I have decided to pick my battles.”
“I can’t believe Wilbur is calling the whole town as witnesses,” Noah says.
“Oh, he’s not,” I reassure him. “He knows most of their testimony won’t be relevant. He just wants me to waste my time interviewing everyone.”
“That crafty bitch,” Grayson says, shaking his head. Then he claps his hands together. “Well, kids. The sun is over the yardarm as my grandmother used to say. We have lived to fight for our valiant client another day, Foghorn Leghorn’s insane witness list notwithstanding. With the one-two punch of Dale and Patrick’s testimony, Noah’s acquittal is a sure thing. So. Where does one go to get libations in this one-horse town?”