Chapter 5 Pressure Points
CHAPTER FIVE
PRESSURE POINTS
The morning sun streaked across their bed as Joshua drifted awake, a tightness already coiled in his chest. Still half-asleep, he glanced up and saw Colin winding a tie around his neck. The sight jolted him fully awake.
“Colin? What the hell! Why are you dressing for court? Esther told you to stay home. I—I mean, stay here.”
Colin let out a slow breath and sat beside him, taking Joshua’s hand. “I have to go in, Josh. I can’t let them think they can scare me off. I’ve got a case before Judge Robinson today, and I’m not asking for a continuance—not on a child abuse case.”
Joshua blinked up at him, tears stinging his eyes. “God,” he whispered, voice tight. “I’m so proud of you.”
Colin bent and kissed him. “I won’t be gone all day. In fact, after this case, I’ll probably head straight back. I want them to see me at my post. I want them to see me standing up.”
Joshua nodded with a small smile. “Now I feel guilty about not going to work.”
Colin shook his head. “Nah. You stay and finish unpacking.” He squeezed Joshua’s hand. “And Josh? Don’t go out unless Emily’s with you, OK?”
“She’s here?”
“She’s at their duty station,” Colin told him.
“She’ll be there all day unless you decide to go somewhere.
” He pressed his lips together and bent over Joshua; one hand braced on the pillow, the other lifted to cradle Joshua’s cheek.
“But please do your poor, frazzled husband a favor and stay put today. Give me one less thing to worry about. OK?”
Joshua laughed. “Go to work. I promise I’m not going anywhere. Emily will have an easy day.” He grinned up at Colin and winked. “I hope she brought a book.”
Colin pressed a final kiss to Joshua’s lips, grabbed his briefcase, and paused to glance out the window. “If I weren’t under guard, I’d walk to work. I can almost see city hall from here.”
“But you are under guard!” Joshua called, clambering out of bed. “And get away from that damned window!”
Colin laughed, looping an arm around Joshua’s neck as they walked to the door. “Those windows are bulletproof. That’s half the reason we’re here.” He kissed Joshua’s cheek.
“You smell good,” Joshua murmured against his shoulder.
“Lucky you.”
“Well, if you were staying here, I’d say, ‘Yeah, lucky me’. But since you’re not…” He looked up at Colin and mugged comically.
“Well, I’ll save up all my mojo for when I get home.” He nuzzled against Joshua’s hair. “See you in a few hours.”
Joshua nodded, but as Colin reached for the door, Joshua caught his arm, pressing his forehead to Colin’s shoulder.
Colin tipped his head to meet Joshua’s eyes. “Hey…”
“I’m OK,” Joshua whispered. “Go to work.”
Colin tried for a reassuring smile. “I’m surrounded by bodyguards, love. What could happen?”
Joshua managed a wry smile. “You really want me to answer that? Just… come home safe.”
Colin strode toward the elevator, flanked by Sarah Mitchell and Daniel Lopez, while Joshua stood gazing after them.
He drew in a deep breath, trying to quiet the furious beating of his heart, then turned to Emily Hayes, who was seated at the tiny duty station.
“Emily, I’m not going to work today, so you can relax. ”
“OK. I’ll be right here, Josh. If you decide to go anywhere, please give me a few minutes’ notice so I can call for the SUV.”
Joshua nodded, then turned and closed the door.
At the Charlottesville Commonwealth’s Attorney’s Office, Colin paused in front of Norman Clayton’s office. “Morning.”
“What the hell are you doing here? Didn’t Esther tell you to stay home?”
“I have court. And I won’t let those bastards believe they can intimidate me into not doing my job. I’ll go home when I’m done.” He shot Clayton a glance. “I’m interrogating the neighbor in the Blaire child abuse case this morning. I won’t ask for a continuance. Not on that case.”
Clayton shook his head as he waved Colin out of his office. “Egomaniac.”
Colin tossed his head back and laughed as he strode down the hall. “Goddamn right!”
Colin hated these types of cases most of all—child abuse, neglect, parents turning violent on their own kids.
Today’s victim was ten-year-old Randy Blaire.
A neighbor, Agatha Neilson, had seen it all from her window.
Cases like this always clawed at the place where Colin still carried Joshua’s pain, stirring memories of what he had survived.
He never cut the abusers any slack and always pushed for the harshest sentence the law would allow.
The courtroom was silent except for the low hum of the ceiling fan and the faint scrape of chairs as people shifted in their seats. Colin rose from the Commonwealth’s table, adjusting his tie more out of habit than necessity.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” he said, voice steady, controlled. “The Commonwealth calls Mrs. Agatha Neilson to the stand.”
The bailiff escorted a small, silver-haired woman to the witness box. She clutched her purse to her chest as though it might anchor her against the tide of eyes fixed on her. Once sworn in, she sat stiffly, her hands twisting in her lap.
He moved closer, careful to angle his body so he didn’t loom over her, his tone softening to match the caution in his posture. “Mrs. Neilson, what did you see from your living room that afternoon?”
She glanced toward the defendant’s table—where Jacque Blaire sat staring at the tabletop—then back to Colin. Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I saw Mr. Blaire—Jacque—outside with his son,” she said. “I saw him punch Randy. More than once. Hard. Then he threw him against the wall.”
Gasps rippled softly through the gallery.
Colin’s expression didn’t change. It couldn’t. But inside, his pulse was steady and cold. “How clearly could you see what happened?”
“Very clearly,” she said. “My window was open and looked right into their yard. No trees or anything in the way.”
He nodded, letting her find her rhythm. “Had you seen anything like this before?”
She hesitated, eyes glistening. “I’ve heard yelling, lots of it. Sometimes I’d see him grab Randy, rough him up, but nothing like this.”
“Did anything in particular lead up to the assault?”
“They were arguing,” she said. “Something about a school paper. Randy was trying to explain, but then his father just… seemed to snap.”
Colin made a note he didn’t need to make. His mind had already memorized every word.
“What did Randy do afterward?” he asked quietly.
She looked down. “He just lay there. Didn’t move for a bit. Then he got up, really slowly. He looked dazed.”
“And Mr. Blaire?”
“Walked inside. Didn’t even look back.”
Colin took a breath through his nose, steady but sharp.
How many times had he seen this pattern? The bruises. The silence. The too-small voices trying to sound brave. He felt the familiar ache rise in his chest, a mix of anger and helpless empathy.
“What did you do then?”
“I called the police,” Mrs. Neilson said. “I was scared for that boy.”
Colin nodded slowly. “Thank you.”
He stepped back for a moment, letting her words hang in the air. He didn’t look at Blaire. He didn’t need to. He’d seen that kind of father before—too many times. The kind who thought power was the same as love, and that fear could take the place of respect.
No wonder Joshua still woke with nightmares.
Colin cleared his throat and stepped forward again, his tone quieter now, gentler. “Mrs. Neilson, why did you feel it was important to testify today?”
Her lower lip trembled. “Because… because someone has to stand up for Randy,” she whispered. “I can’t just pretend it isn’t happening.”
A long silence followed, broken only by the faint scratch of the court reporter’s keys.
“Thank you, Mrs. Neilson,” Colin said softly. “No further questions.”
He turned toward the bench and inclined his head. “Your Honor.” Then he walked back to the Commonwealth’s table and sat down, his notes untouched.
He stared without seeing, the tremor of his reflection ghosting across the polished wood—shadowed eyes, clenched jaw, and beneath the surface calm, an inferno of rage: rage for men like Blaire, and for the father whose cruelty still haunted Joshua’s sleep.
He’d promised his husband he’d leave the job at the courthouse door—or try to.
But with cases like this, the promise was hard to keep.
At the end of Mrs. Neilson’s testimony, the defense attorney had asked for a recess, and when Judge Robinson granted his request, Colin returned to his office. As he passed, Norm called out from his desk: “How’d it go?”
Colin wandered in and flopped onto a chair. “She was a solid witness. I think I have a good chance of getting this kid into a foster care program and putting his fucking abusive father into a jail cell.”
“Is the mother involved?”
“She’s been charged. I made sure of that, but I doubt she’ll see any jail time. Her primary crime is letting that asshole get away with it. She should have been the one calling the police, not the neighbor.”
“Yeah, well, you know how that goes.”
“Sadly, I do.”
Clayton got to his feet. “Well, holster your pistol, Wyatt. Esther wants us.”
Colin rose and followed Clayton down the hall. “I never holster my pistol!”
Clayton scoffed, then paused at the entrance to Esther Jackson’s office and tapped on the doorframe. “You wanted to see us?
Esther waved them in. “I do. Colin, close the door behind you.” She gestured to the two chairs in front of her desk. “We’ve had a couple of breaks in Hannibal’s case.”
Colin leaned forward. “Tell me!”
“First off, we received an anonymous tip—possibly from a friend of Hannibal’s who may have witnessed the murder.
They provided us with a partial license plate number from what we believe to be the perp’s vehicle.
When we ran it down, we came up with the name of one of Lexi Moreno’s enforcers whose bank account showed a…
” She shrugged. “Well… a notable deposit a few days before Hannibal was killed.”
“Wow!” Colin exclaimed. “That’s really sloppy.”