Believe Me
When I emerged from the shower with my hair still moist, tied up in a loose ponytail, I was greeted by the faint smell of barbecue. It tugged at my stomach, making it growl loudly.
In the backyard by the sliding door, Billy Ray tended to the grill, whistling a melody with his ballcap on backward, wielding his spatula to the music like a fly swatter.
I loved the man my little brother had become.
All that hardship—our father, me leaving, and him being alone all those years—hadn’t broken him.
It had chiseled him into a strong, self-reliant man.
“You must be hungry,” Colton said, abandoning the garbage and the broom in a corner, and washing his hands quickly at the kitchen sink. “Let me get you something.”
I smiled weakly. “Nah, it’s okay, I’ll wait for the steak.”
He opened the fridge door and stared inside with a dazzled, disappointed look on his face.
“Um, how about another beer?” He didn’t wait for my reply—just picked a bottle from the shelf and uncapped it, then offered it to me.
“You eat out a lot, huh?” He opened another one for himself and downed half of the small bottle thirstily, still standing in front of the open fridge.
I took a sip, savoring it. “It’s empty, isn’t it?” Looking at him, I smiled, a bit of sadness still lingering. “Billy Ray didn’t fill it to the brim?”
He closed the fridge door, laughing. “Nope, not yet. He got the essentials, I guess. Beer.”
My smile waned. I looked away, hesitating to say the things I desperately needed to say. “Colton, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve what happened. What I did to you. None of it.”
He walked over to me with a rush in his steps, then set his beer bottle on the table and wrapped me in his arms. I let myself become lost in the embrace, knowing it couldn’t last. It couldn’t lead to anything more. “Oh, baby, I missed you so much,” he whispered, his lips close to my ear.
I rested my cheek against his chest for a moment, then pulled away and took a step back. “Can you forgive me?”
His eyes locked on to mine. “I already have.” He looked away for a moment. “I knew life was hard for you, living with your father. People talked . . . I knew he was—”
I pressed two fingers to his lips, shaking my head. “No,” I whispered.
He nodded, silently, his eyes touched by sadness and a glimmer of anger that wasn’t aimed at me. “We won’t talk about it, I promise. But we need to talk about your defense. We don’t have much time. We have pretrial motions to prepare, then jury selection.”
I nodded, reaching out and squeezing his hand. “You don’t owe me anything, Colton. I hope you know that.”
He propped his hands on his hips and paced slowly. “I don’t owe you anything, but I want to be there for you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. “I’d be lost without you.” The silence grew uncomfortable for me. I didn’t want him to think we could be together again. Didn’t want him to believe that. “By the way, I meant to ask you, the judge said something I didn’t understand. He knew you, right?”
“Yes, I’ve appeared in front of Judge Harding before.”
“He said I wasn’t your usual type of case, or something like that. What’s your specialty?”
“Civil litigation,” he replied, shifting his eyes away for an instant. “Contracts, real estate, that kind of thing. But I’m quite good at criminal defense. Nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not worried about your skill as an attorney, Colton!” I laughed bitterly. He was a thousand times better than that guy from Legal Aid. The judge had released me on bail because he was my attorney. That had to mean something. “You know I didn’t do this, right?”
The sliding door opened, sending a whirl of barbecue smoke inside the living room. “You guys ready to eat?” Billy Ray asked. “Come outside.” He beckoned with the spatula. “Bring plates and everything.”
Without answering, Colton opened a cabinet and pulled out some plates. I got in his way and put my hand on his forearm. “Do you believe me?”
“Believe what?” Billy Ray asked from the doorway.
“That I didn’t do this,” I said, raising my voice, frustrated. “I need you both to believe me.” Tears crept up in my voice. “I didn’t kill Winston Donovan. I swear I didn’t. If you two can’t believe me, how can I expect it from a bunch of strangers?”
Both men looked at me reassuringly.
“Of course, sis,” Billy Ray replied quickly, shooting the grill a concerned look. “The steak is done. Very well done. Come on, you guys.”
But I didn’t budge, my eyes locked on to Colton’s. “Do you believe me?” I asked again, in just a whisper.
“Of course I do,” he replied, his voice level and reassuring. “Why do you even doubt it?” His voice sounded honest, albeit a bit worried.
“Good,” I said, opening a drawer and pulling out some silverware. “Because I know who killed him. His wife, Claire.”
The statement made Colton stop in his tracks, halfway through the door with the stack of plates in his hand. “Why do you say that?”
I almost spilled everything out that moment, but I stopped myself in time.
Some things were better left unsaid. If the sordid story of Winston’s ransom ever came out, it would do me a world of damage with a judge and jury.
They would find me contemptible, and that was just another word for guilty as charged.
And Colton would never look at me the same way again. He’d be disgusted by what I’d become.
“Because she had motive. I didn’t,” I said, instead of offering the whole truth.
I walked outside and yanked the plates from the stack he was holding, setting them down with sharp clinks that echoed in the quiet.
Napkins were abandoned at the center of the table in an unsightly pile.
The silverware clattered as I dropped it beside the plates without care.
Each movement was quick, almost jerky, as if keeping my hands busy could quiet the storm inside me.
Colton looked straight at me, serious, his pupils dilated and intense. There was something chilling in his gaze, for a split second, and then it went away. “Did you love him?”
Instinctively, I touched the engagement ring. I’d slipped it back on my finger the moment the police had given it back to me when I’d made bail, and hadn’t taken it off since.
Colton’s eyes searched mine. I looked away, fighting the threat of tears.
“Yes. I did.”
Lying would’ve been so much easier.