Chapter Twenty
Piedmont, Louisiana
I stop myself from yelling out an expletive on the spot as Grant walks toward the podium.
Grant who texted me this morning he had to leave town for a bit.
He had to have known who I was last night.
No way I’m letting him know I didn’t catch who he was.
I scold myself for such a rookie move. I should have known Johnny Adair would have a liaison of some type to help him reacclimate into society, and I should have known that man’s name.
Even though I’m hiding in the back and wearing a hat, Grant’s eyes still connect with mine as he scans the crowd.
I catch the look of shock on his face, but not a muscle in my face moves.
Next Emmy I’m rumored to be getting could be for acting.
And I’m glad to have Grant to focus on because he’s not the only one staring at me.
Johnny Adair gives me a look of pure hatred, and I hold my tote tighter to my side, wondering if the stun gun I carry is really enough to protect me.
They walk to the podium, and Grant speaks first. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Grant Greene. Thank you for coming out today. I’m here with my client and friend, Johnny Adair.
As you know, Mr. Adair has recently been exonerated of the charges against him in regards to the disappearance and murder of Heather Hadwick.
” A few people in the crowd murmur and shift.
“Mr. Adair is here to make a statement only. He will not be accepting any questions. If you would like more information, you can contact me or his attorney.”
I watch the police and sheriff watching the crowd.
Two officers start walking around the periphery as Johnny steps up to the microphones attached to the podium.
Cameras are focused on him, and he’s wiping his hands on the sides of his gray slacks.
I can see sweat stains on his white button-up shirt that looks two sizes too small.
Even though the temperature is hovering only in the mid-forties, Johnny looks hot and nervous. He looks to Grant, who nods.
“Hello.”
His voice kicks up my adrenaline. I hear his voice from years ago, yelling as Kat, Summer, and I were running for the trail to the lake.
What are you girls doing out here? I glance over to Summer and Kat.
Summer has gone pale. Katrina has sunglasses on now, so I can’t see her expression, but her body is stiff and unmoving. Neither of them looks in my direction.
“I want to set the record straight,” Johnny says.
“I am innocent. I served seventeen years in prison for a crime I did not commit. The men who sent me there wanted to believe I was guilty because that would be a lot easier than the truth.” The crowd is silent.
No more murmuring or shuffling feet. “The confession . . . was a mistake. I was scared and sleep deprived. And they kept telling me if I admitted to it, they’d let me leave the room. ”
A woman next to me covers her mouth with her hand and shakes her head. Another says, “Poor man.”
“So I told them whatever it took to get out of that room. I didn’t understand when I left the room, I’d be going to a cell,” Johnny says. “And they used it against me. Even when they knew the truth.”
His voice cracks. He shifts on his feet, and I wonder about that last statement, what truth he’s speaking of and if it relates to Crowley.
Grant nods at him again. “I’ve made mistakes,” he says, then pauses. He takes a breath. “But I didn’t deserve to be punished for a crime I didn’t commit.” He shakes his head but doesn’t finish the thought. Instead I catch him glancing at Summer and Kat. Then he looks at me.
I try to keep my shoulders square even though I want to shrink back into the crowd. This is not a feeling I’m familiar with at news conferences. But then again, I’ve never been to one that involved me.
Finally Johnny speaks again. “I just want to be left alone.”
I get the feeling Johnny had planned to say more but, for whatever reason, stopped.
Grant, to his credit, stays stoic. If this is a curveball, he’s not showing it.
“I ask for privacy for me and for my sister,” he adds.
His eyes dart to his left, and I follow his gaze.
There are several women standing on the same side as Kat and Summer.
I scan their faces and stop on one that looks familiar.
She’s wearing faded jeans and a purple NSU sweatshirt. Hello, Rosalie.
Another group of ladies catches my eye. One of them looks familiar. Grace from the hospital. She smiles as we make eye contact; then she waves. Terrific. Nurse Grace is going to have a lot to talk about with the flock of ladies hovering around her.
“What truth are you referring to, Johnny?” a reporter yells, and I snap back to the podium. It’s Erin.
Ballsy, Erin, I think. None of the other reporters follow up. She’s on an island and has Johnny’s full attention, but it’s Grant who steps in and answers.
“Mr. Adair has nothing further to say.”
“Has the state apologized?” another reporter says.
They’re getting braver.
“Will you receive reparations?” another yells. “If so, how much? How much is seventeen years worth, Johnny?”
Idiots. They’re all after the wrong thing. I want to know if he changed his mind about what he planned to say today. And if so, why?
“Why did you insist on making this statement here, at the school?” Erin yells.
I look from her back to Johnny, who has started to walk off.
“This school,” Johnny says, and he spits on the ground.
Grant’s hand touches Johnny’s elbow. His client is going off script.
“Renovations aren’t going to cover up the past here.
You’ll see. This place should have been burned to the ground.
” People start murmuring again. Grant smiles and guides Johnny away from the podium.
I search for Kat and Summer, but they’re gone.
I grab my phone and text Katrina.
We need to meet again.
Grant stands behind the microphones now, and the reporters start yelling questions at him.
He holds up both hands. “We are running late. These questions and more will all be answered in due time. For now, please give Johnny and his sister, Rosalie, the privacy they deserve.” With that, he walks off, and Johnny follows him.
The reporters trail them, yelling questions even after both men are inside the Escalade. Their SUV pulls away as cameras flash.
What the hell just happened here?
“Okay, folks,” Chief Duplantis says. “We still have a bit more to discuss. Hello? Can I get your attention please.”
The reporters make their way back, most on their cell phones.
The chief starts talking again after everyone is back in their places. “We have time for a few questions.”
I spot Rosalie Adair peeling away from the crowd and heading for a car parked off by itself. A white sedan.
I glance at the chief and weigh what I’ll gain staying here versus what I’ll gain if I follow Rosalie, and when nurse Grace starts walking my way, I know the answer.
Nothing. Erin is focused on the chief. The other reporters are as well.
And I’ve learned over the years always go with the bird in the hand.
Three minutes later, I’m back in my father’s truck following Rosalie’s white sedan out of the forest.