Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
VON
I sit in the sunroom with my siblings, tension knotting in my stomach.
Noah said he was going to take Penny for a walk, to clear his head. I know he’s feeling as anxious as I am. That goddamn fingerprint. That slick FBI expert really did a number on the jury. I could tell they were impressed with his testimony. I felt like I crushed the cross of the sheriff, but the expert was the last person they heard from. And often, that’s what matters most. Now I have to present Noah’s case without Patrick. The last thing I want to do is put Noah on the stand. But he’s the only one who can corroborate Dale’s weak testimony, that he was at the bar that morning.
“Those photographs,” Daisy says with a slight hiccup, bringing me out of my thoughts. I wish I could have prepared my siblings better for the crime scene photos but honestly, there’s no preparing for something like that.
Finn wraps an arm around her .
“Don’t think about them,” he says.
“That wasn’t Mom,” Alistair says. For once, there’s no humor in his voice. “That was—we don’t have to remember her like that.”
“No,” I agree. “We don’t. And we shouldn’t.”
Caden is looking at me strangely. “Do you really think the sheriff…I mean, it sounded like you were accusing…”
“I was creating reasonable doubt,” I say succinctly.
“But if he was there, at the shooting range…if he had access to Noah’s gun…”
“Caden,” I warn.
“No way,” Finn says. “He’s had his lips firmly planted to Dad’s butt since he took office. You think he was stalking Mom? You think he would kill her?”
Daisy shivers.
“Stop speculating,” I say to them. “That’s not helpful. My job is to poke holes in the prosecution’s theory. Create as much reasonable doubt as I can.”
I do not want my family to get ahead of themselves and paint the sheriff with one brush like Noah is doing. I get why he believes it so fiercely—he’s a black and white thinker and yeah, there are lots of pieces that point to the sheriff. But the same could be said about pieces pointing to Noah.
“That FBI guy was pretty damning,” Finn says.
“But Von gets to make Noah’s case now,” Daisy insists, sitting up straighter. She looks at me hopefully. “The burden is on the prosecution, right? And Noah’s name wasn’t in that logbook. That’s got to count for a lot.”
I rub my eyes. “Technically, yes,” I say. “The burden of proof is on the prosecution. But juries are made up of people, and people don’t like to believe that police arrest the innocent. The FBI tech was impressive. I have my own expert, of course, but juries believe in the FBI. As flimsy as the prosecution’s case is, that fingerprint is still damning. ”
Especially without evidence that Noah couldn’t have been there. I press my fingers to my temples as my brothers and sister continue to go back and forth over the testimony. There has got to be someone, someone in this damn town who saw Noah that day. Everyone is up in everyone’s business here. That’s one thing I’ve learned about Magnolia Bay. Someone always knows something. I just need to find the right someone.
“As if Mom helping Noah out with school stuff makes him a stalker,” Alistair mutters.
“I was surprised all those deputies threw him under the bus,” Finn says.
I feel like my head is going to explode if I don’t get out of this room. I stand and stride out the door and down the hall to the blue study. I sink into the chair and stare at the photo of Mom and Dad on their wedding day.
The case files are all piled up, along with my own notes. I go through the list of people who were awake that morning. It’s only a handful of names. I call each one again, asking if they remember seeing anything—if not Noah then maybe at least his car—that might be of any help.
I strike out on all of them and slump back in my chair. I need a drink.
I leave the blue study and grab my coat from the front hall. The parlor is decorated for Christmas, mocking me with its cheerful lights, the tree perfectly trimmed.
Noah could be in jail by the time the holiday rolls around.
I find Alex in a small front study. “Can you drive me to the Crooked Screw?” I ask.
“Certainly, Ms. Von,” he says, folding up his copy of the Magnolia Bee. I catch a glimpse of the headline: Second Day of Testimony in Everton Murder Case . I don’t even want to know what Everly Harris is going to write about the FBI witness.
I whip out my phone and text Grayson.
Meet me at the Crooked Screw.
I’m at the bar with a very dry martini in front of me when Grayson arrives.
Christmas music plays softly through the speakers and the whole place is trimmed with holly and evergreens. Twinkling lights line the windows and cheerful conversation surrounds me, amplifying my own anxiety.
“Hey,” Grayson says, sliding onto the stool next to me. “Why the long face?”
“We’ve got nothing, Grayson. I can’t prove Noah wasn’t there that morning. Not without Patrick.”
“You did an exceptional job with the sheriff.”
I shrug and take a sip of my martini. “I’m worried that FBI guy fucked us.”
Jake comes over and Grayson gestures at my drink. “I’ll have what she’s having,” he says. Then he turns to me. “You’ve done the best you could with what you have to work with. You’ll put Dale on the stand and hope that’s enough.”
“It’s not enough,” I say. I stare at the olive, skewered on a toothpick in my glass.
“Good thing is, you’ve got lots of ammo for appeal.”
My head whips up. “Noah can’t go to jail , Grayson. I…” My throat closes up and my eyes itch. “I can’t let that happen,” I say softly.
“Ah,” Grayson says. “So that’s what this is about.”
I blink. “What?”
Grayson raises one eyebrow. “You think I haven’t noticed the vibes between you two? The looks? The sexual tension so thick I could cut it with a knife?”
“What?” I yelp, sitting up straight.
Grayson chuckles. “You, my darling, fierce, warrior goddess may be an exceptional actor but alas, your boy toy is not.”
“He’s not my boy toy,” I hiss .
“He has been looking at you with stars in his eyes since…probably a week into his stay at your place. That man has fallen and fallen hard . And since you weren’t trying to slice him into fillets when he gave you said starry eyed gazes, I could only assume—being the excellent and observant attorney that I am—that you were also smitten as a kitten. And then once we moved the operation to Magnolia Bay…” Grayson whistles.
“But…” I trail off, my heart pounding. How was I so unaware?
Of course, Grayson is right. I’m smitten. I’ve fallen hard for Noah.
He frowns. “You haven’t slept with him, have you?”
I grimace and take a big gulp of martini.
“Oh Von,” he says. “I thought it was just vibes!”
“You were the one going on about ethics shmethics,” I protest weakly.
“Yeah, that was a thought exercise. This is…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Okay. So. This is real, huh?”
I run my fingertip along the rim of my glass. “This is real,” I admit.
“You took a huge risk, Siobhan,” he says.
“I know.”
“You’ll get fired if Harold finds out.”
“Are you planning on telling him?”
“Moi?” Grayson puts a hand to his heart, aghast. “Of course not. But let’s stop for a minute and think about what this means. The bigger picture, so to speak.”
“The bigger picture is how do we keep our client out of jail.”
Grayson cocks his head thoughtfully. “Do you even see the change in yourself?” He gestures to my hair, flowing loose down my back. “You’re softer here. You’re happy here. You’re helping this whole town out, not just Noah. And you like it. I can tell.”
“Sure, but it’s just temporary. I don’t have my usual caseload. Once the trial is over, I’ll be back in the city full time.”
“You know what they call you around the office,” he says .
“Ice Queen,” I say. It never bothered me before. Fuck those petty men—they were just pissed that I was better than them, smarter, worked harder. And that I wouldn’t sleep with any of them.
“But that’s not you,” Grayson says gently. “I think—and correct me if I’m wrong here—that this is the real you. Have you ever actually liked working at Phillips?”
“It’s one of the best defense firms in the country,” I say.
“I am aware of its reputation,” Grayson says dryly. “I, too, have parents with high expectations. But that’s not what I asked. Do you like working there?”
“How is that relevant? I have to be at a firm like Phillips,” I insist “It’s part of my plan. To make partner, start my own firm, make a name for myself.”
“Oh honey,” Grayson says. “You’re a freaking billionaire . Start your own firm right now! You don’t need anyone’s permission.”
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. Could I? Start my own firm now? A tiny seed of an idea sprouts in the back of my mind. I could represent whoever I wanted. I could help people.
A slow smile spreads across Grayson’s face and he pats my knee. “I think maybe you’re getting it now,” he says.
I feel my mind whir and expand. Setting up an office here. Doing the work I’d started at the public defender’s office, but on my terms. Running my own firm. Choosing my own clients. Fighting the good fight, the way I did today in the courtroom against the sheriff. God, it felt good to shock him with that logbook. To slice and dice his testimony and create reasonable doubt. That’s the part I love most about being a lawyer.
I’m still frozen with bewilderment when Jake comes over with Grayson’s martini.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Just a little mid-trial crisis,” Grayson says, taking a sip of his drink.
“Is there anything I can do to help? ”
I chuckle sadly, coming back to earth and the problem at hand. “Not unless you know someone who was awake at the ass crack of dawn on the morning my mother was murdered.”
I already interviewed Jake, so I know he was fast asleep, like most of the other people my age.
“Hm,’” Jake murmurs, rubbing his chin. “You know…I bet Mr. Sanderson was awake then. He’s a big fisherman and birdwatcher. Did you talk to him?”
The name pricks something at the back of my mind, and I sit up straight. “Who’s Mr. Sanderson?”
Grayson is already searching his email for the witness list Wilbur sent us. He looks up at me and shakes his head. “Not on here,” he says.
“He moved down to Florida a year ago,” Jake says. “He’s the one who sold me this place—he’s a great guy, has a cabin just outside town he let me have for a song as well.”
The cabin where Noah’s grandfather stayed. That’s where I’d heard the name before.
“And you think he was awake that morning?”
“It’s likely.”
“Jake, can you put me in touch with him?” I ask, my skin buzzing.
“Sure,” Jake says. “I’ll call him right now.”
Grayson and I glance at each other. My pulse thrums but I don’t want to get my hopes up.
Jake pulls out his phone and calls the number. “Mr. Sanderson! Hey…well, Merry Christmas to you too…How are things in Florida?...That’s great…Yes, the Screw is doing just fine. Look, I’m calling because—you’ve heard about the trial, right?” There’s a pause and then Jake says, “Oh. Well, they’ve put Noah Patterson on trial for Marion Everton’s murder.” Another pause and this time I can almost hear the man on the other end, his voice raised in outrage. “I know, none of us believe it either. Siobhan Everton is representing him. She’s here right now.” He chuckles. “Yes, that Von. S he was actually hoping to ask you a couple of questions. Oh. Sure.” He holds out the phone to me.
“Mr. Sanderson,” I say. “Thank you so much for speaking with me. I just wanted to ask you about the morning of?—”
“Ms. Everton, Noah did not commit this crime.” The old man’s voice is firm on the other end of the line.
“Yes, I believe in his innocence too,” I say.
“You misunderstand me,” he says. “I remember that morning as clear as if it was yesterday. The morning after that wonderful party at Everton Estate.”
“That’s right,” I say, the nape of my neck prickling. “Sir, were you awake that morning? Around six am?”
“Of course I was,” he says and my heart leaps. “Because of the bird.”
“The what?”
“I was out early on the bay that morning in my boat. I’m a birder, you see and there had been reports of a Lazuli Bunting sighted in the area. That’s a very rare bird and I was determined to catch a glimpse.”
“Okay,” I say. “But?—”
“I brought my video recorder with me,” Mr. Sanderson continues. A jolt runs up my spine. “Ms. Everton, I saw Noah Patterson standing on his dock that morning. Now, I can’t say what time exactly, but I know I caught him on my camera. I recorded absolutely everything that morning hoping to get a glimpse of the Bunting. I’ve got the footage of all my birding efforts going back ten years stored on my computer—my granddaughter showed me how last year. Everything is digital now, isn’t it? Marvelous.”
I press the phone so hard to my ear it’s going to leave a mark. My heart is beating wildly in my chest. “Mr. Sanderson,” I say slowly. “Do you mean to tell me that you have video evidence of Noah on his dock that morning?”
Grayson’s eyes are so wide it’s a wonder they don’t fall out of his skull .
“I do indeed, young lady,” Mr. Sanderson says.
“Sir, would you be willing to bring this footage to Magnolia Bay and testify on Noah’s behalf?”
“Certainly,” the old man says. “I just need to find a flight…”
“Where are you?” I ask. He gives me an address outside Fort Lauderdale. “Okay, I’m sending my associate to come and get you and collect the evidence. Mr. Sanderson, you may very well have saved Noah’s life tonight. I cannot thank you enough.”
“Noah is a good man,” Mr. Sanderson says. “A real gem in the Magnolia Bay community. I can’t believe—if I had known, I would have contacted you right away.”
“It seems we found you in the nick of time,” I say. “Thank you. Truly.”
I hang up and gape at Grayson.
“Did what I think happen just happen?” he asks. I hand Jake his phone back and take out my own cell.
“Dad,” I say when my father picks up. “I need the jet.”