Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
NOAH
Caden is insane if he thinks Von will agree to represent me.
But I’ve got more immediate problems. Like the fact that I am currently in a tiny jail cell in the back of the sheriff’s department.
Once Caden left, I told the sheriff I wasn’t talking without my lawyer present, so he brought me here. Just like Caden said. I’ve given up on pacing—it was making me feel more like a trapped animal. Instead, I’m lying on the cold metal bench, counting the cracks in the ceiling. It’s not keeping the jittery buzz in my chest at bay but there’s nothing else I can do. My fingers tap against the metal beneath me. Tap tap tap tap. How long has it been since Caden left? It feels like days. Am I seriously meant to stay here all weekend?
Tap tap tap tap.
When I hear footsteps, it’s not just the hard slap of a cop’s shoes against the cement floor, but the distinctive click of high heels as well. My head turns at the sound, my ears pricking .
Derek Davis, one of my fellow deputies, appears on the opposite side of the bars.
“Hey Noah,” he says, looking at me with a mix of sympathy and discomfort. Derek is a nice guy, and I think he might believe in my innocence too. It’s a small consolation, though, when I’m still on this side of the bars. “There’s, um, someone here to see you.”
I sit up as Von walks into view. She’s changed from the strapless gold number she was wearing at the Everton event, in favor of a black pencil skirt and a silk, sleeveless blouse. I wonder if she even owns a pair of jeans anymore. I remember making mud pies with her on rainy days in Marion’s garden. She was never squeamish, like a lot of other girls. She’d happily slap together thick wads of mud and then gleefully pelt me with them.
Her auburn hair is pulled back in a low ponytail and her cinnamon eyes are laser focused on me. “You can go,” Von says to Derek in a clipped tone. He seems relieved to escape her presence.
Von crosses her arms over her chest. For a moment, we just stare at each other.
“Hi,” I say. “Come here often?”
It’s a terrible joke and Von does not acknowledge it.
“I’m here to represent you,” she says.
Even though I assumed as much, her words still surprise me. “You are?”
She frowns. “Isn’t that what you and Caden decided together?”
It’s faint, but there’s the slightest irritation in her voice when she says Caden’s name.
“I was not involved in any decision making,” I point out. “Caden said he was going to ask you to do this. I told him you’d say no.”
One eyebrow raises in a quizzical fashion. “You thought I’d say no? ”
“Well, yeah. It’s not really a secret that we haven’t always gotten along.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s kid stuff. This is serious.”
I sweep my hand out toward the bars, trying to suppress the tightness in my stomach. “I am aware.”
She takes a step toward me. “Do I like you as a person? No. You’re infuriatingly na?ve and optimistic when it comes to human nature, you have this ridiculous black and white view of the world, and you act like the cops are always the smart, competent good guys, which—as I hope this arrest will finally enlighten you to—they are not.”
“Gosh, thanks,” I say dryly. “Got any more salt you’d like to rub in my wounds? Maybe some lemon juice too?”
“But,” she says, raising a finger. “Mom loved you. You were part of our family. And I don’t believe for a second that you killed her.”
A strange tingling sensation runs through me, from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes. “You don’t?”
“Of course not. Did you think I would?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “The world feels pretty upside down right now.”
She purses her lips. “The longer you sit in here, the longer the real killer gets away with it.”
“That’s exactly what I said,” I say, bemused. “Look at us. On the same page.”
The corner of Von’s mouth twitches. “Well. There’s a first time for everything.”
“Thank you,” I say sincerely.
“I’m not doing this for you,” she says. “I’m doing it for Mom.”
There’s the Von I know and love.
“The sheriff says you’ll be arraigned Monday morning at the county courthouse. You will be held here until then. If you need anything, you will request it through me. You will not speak to anyone unless I am present. You will?— ”
“Have you ever tried a murder case before?” I ask.
At that, her expression turns to one of exasperation. She suddenly looks less like the polished lawyer and a lot more like my best friend’s little sister.
“Are you seriously questioning my credentials?” she demands. “I graduated summa cum laude from Columbia. I work for one of the top corporate defense firms in New York City. I?—”
“Okay, okay,” I say, holding up my hands before she can give me her entire resume. “I get it. You’re good.”
“I am,” she says. Then she eyes my rumpled shirt and pants. “You can’t wear these clothes to the arraignment.” The sheriff took my blazer along with my keys, wallet, and phone. “Do you have a suit?”
I gesture to myself. “This is my suit.”
“Another one, I mean.”
“This is my only suit,” I say.
Von closes her eyes briefly in impatience, like I’m being stupid on purpose. “How can you have been friends with my brother for so long and not have more than one suit?”
“He doesn’t buy my outfits,” I snap. My already frazzled nerves are fraying even further. “Can’t you get me out of here now? If you’re such an amazing lawyer, isn’t there some way to force the sheriff to let me go? Or just do the arraignment now?”
“I thought you understood the criminal justice system,” Von says, her words laced with sarcasm. “Courts are closed on weekends.”
“I do understand,” I shoot back. “It just seems pretty unfair. I don’t belong in here.”
“We’ll get you out,” Von says. “There’s no way you won’t get bail. It’s your first offense. You’re a cop, for god’s sake.” She cocks her head. “Do you know the prosecutor?”
I nod. “Wilbur Jenkins. He’s tough but fair.” That brings me some comfort. Surely, someone like Wilbur will see that I’m innocent. This will all be over on Monday. The judge, whoever gets assigned this case, will see that the evidence is so flimsy, that the sheriff never should have made the arrest, and more importantly, that there is no way I could have killed Marion Everton. He’ll dismiss it outright.
Von’s gaze strays down to my shirt again. “I’ll see if Alistair has something that might fit you.”
“No,” I say. “I have another pair of slacks and some button downs at my house.” I’m not showing up to court in Alistair’s clothes. I know it’s not the most important thing at the moment, but I need to feel like myself. I don’t want to walk into that courtroom in a borrowed suit.
Anger flares in my chest. I should not be walking into a courtroom at all. Because I didn’t fucking do this.
“Fine,” she says. “I’ll tell Caden to get them for you.”
“Can you please ask him to check on my grandfather?” I ask. “And Penny.”
Von frowns. “Who’s Penny?”
“My dog.” My throat tightens and my eyes fill with sudden tears, as a desperate panic crawls up my chest. I just want to go home.
Von’s face remains expressionless. She seems to pause for an eternity before giving me a curt nod. “I’ll see you Monday morning.”
She turns and her heels click down the hall. I hear the door open and close. The silence she leaves in her wake is deafening.
I stumble back down onto the bench, sink my head into my hands, and let the tears fall, where no one can see.