Chapter 29
I drove through the pass, aware of every bump and hitch in the road.
The car rattled like my sweet little Fiat shared my nerves.
Pine trees pressed close on either side of us, heavy with rain, their needles dripping in slow rhythm.
The air smelled sharp and clean but held the kind of cold that sank into bone.
Low clouds hugged the mountains, gray and swollen, muting the light to a dusky silver.
More rain loomed. No question about it.
Aiden didn’t say a word. His shoulders drew tight, his jaw flexing now and then, giving me the only sign he wasn’t carved from stone. The man didn’t do passenger well.
We finally reached Silverville, the road widening as the trees gave way to the small downtown, and always, I felt like I was coming home.
I glanced at him. “Is it the fact that you’re not driving, or are you in pain?”
“I’m not in pain,” he said, voice clipped.
Oh, he was in pain. His knuckles were white where his hand gripped his thigh.
“Why are you so stubborn?”
That cool tough-guy muscle in his jaw clenched. “It’s a gift.”
“I can take you to the hospital here real quick.” The one in Silverville wasn’t much compared to Timber City’s, but it existed.
“I’m fine.”
We pulled up to the sheriff’s station, the tires splashing through a shallow puddle before I parked. The old brick building looked solid with the flag snapping lazily in the breeze.
Sheriff Franco stood at the top of the steps, cane in hand, guiding Nana toward the door. My heart eased a little when I saw she wasn’t cuffed and that Bampa was right by her side.
I hustled out of the car and hurried to hug her. Her long wool coat smelled faintly of lavender and rain.
“Hello, dear.” She rose on her toes to kiss my cheek, then her eyes went wide as she looked beyond me. “Aiden Devlin, you are not supposed to be out of the hospital.”
He winced. Nobody wanted to face my grandmother’s wrath. She was too sweet when she got angry. That combination was terrifying.
“I came in to make sure you were okay.” He limped around the car and up the wet sidewalk. He leaned down to kiss the top of her head.
Her hands fluttered. “Oh dear. I’m fine. I’m sure this is just a big mistake.”
I looked at Sheriff Franco’s face—jaw locked, eyes hard. Oh no. This wasn’t good.
The door to the station opened, and Jolene O’ Sullivan stepped out, her gaze taking in everyone.
She wore gray slacks pressed to perfection, maroon boots gleaming under the weak light, and a matching sweater that hugged her narrow frame.
Smooth blonde hair framed her pretty face, and she practically purred with satisfaction.
“Now really, Mrs. O’Shea,” she said, her phone raised and the microphone glowing red. “Wouldn’t you like to defend yourself?”
My temper snapped, heat rolling up my spine. Aiden’s hand shot out and caught my arm, the very one I would’ve swung with. Probably a good thing. “We have no comment. Leave us alone,” I said.
“Oh, please. It’s not every day that a pillar of the community gets caught selling shrooms.” Jolene’s voice dripped with glee, her perfect smile sharp as glass.
Aiden smoothly stepped between us, putting his back to her. “What’s going on now?” he asked Sheriff Franco.
“We’re going in front of the judge, just like last time,” Nana said, looking at me. “Honestly, Anna, I had no idea—”
“Nana.” I cut her off, jerking my chin toward Jolene, who still had her phone aimed. “Please don’t speak right now.”
Nana pressed her lips together and then gave me a slow, unapologetic wink.
My head dropped a little. I’d wanted Nana to be terrified, just a little, but she wasn’t. Then I caught the faint pinch at the corners of her eyes, that tiny tightening she couldn’t hide. Okay. She was taking this seriously and just trying to reassure me.
“What are the chances?” I asked Sheriff Franco, knowing he’d understand what I meant about bail.
He shrugged. “Dunno. Okay, let’s go.”
That didn’t sound good. I brushed hair out of my eyes. “How’d you get a judge to come in so fast?”
“I called in more favors,” Franco said quietly, voice low so Jolene couldn’t catch it.
He tightened his grip on the cane and pressed into it, pain flickering across his face.
I nearly told him to turn around, but that would’ve gone about as well as telling Nana to skip dessert.
We headed down the sidewalk toward the courthouse.
The rain had left the air fresh and cold, the faint scent of cedar and wet stone clinging to everything.
Silverville’s courthouse rose at the end of the block, a proud holdover from the mining boom, its marble steps slick underfoot.
We made our way up to the district court instead of the magistrate one we’d visited last time.
Inside the bigger courtroom, the place still carried a ghost of wealth and ambition.
White marble veined with gray lined the walls, and the carved cedar trim glowed golden under the overhead lights.
Dust motes drifted in the colored beams of sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows, turning the air almost holy.
Our footsteps echoed as we walked up front, where Brad Backleboff already waited at the prosecutor’s table. He wore a slick gray suit with a silver tie that probably cost too much, and his blond hair was combed back into perfect arrogance.
He smirked. “I’m willing to plead this out.”
“Let’s get this over with,” I said, sliding into my seat beside Nana.
Bampa, Aiden, the sheriff, and Jolene all found seats behind us on benches.
Judge Mahoney strode in, her black robe whispering over marble.
Thick dark hair framed a face ruled by sharp brown eyes that missed nothing.
She worked throughout the five northern counties of Idaho, and whatever town she called home, Silverville didn’t make the list. She settled into her chair and perched her spectacles on her nose before reading the charges.
Nana entered her plea, calm as ever, while Brad immediately requested that she be held at the jail.
I objected just as hard as last time, my pulse ticking fast as I caught sight of Jolene O’Sullivan behind me, phone raised, the red light glowing. She also furiously took notes while recording everything, and I couldn’t ban her from the courtroom. Darn it. She was such a jerk.
The judge flipped through the file, pages rasping in the quiet. “It looks like we have a couple of cases against this defendant.”
“Yes, Judge,” Brad said smoothly. “We fear that Mrs. O’Shea has been engaging in criminal practices for years, and nobody noticed.”
“You’d better watch yourself, Counselor,” I snapped. Out of the corner of my eye, Aiden sat on the bench behind me, shoulders broad, expression carved from steel. Was it my imagination, or was Jolene inching closer to him with each passing second?
My spine snapped into alignment. “I don’t care if we’re in a courtroom,” I said tightly. “You slam my client again, and we’ll hit you with a lawsuit.”
“Ms. Albertini, let’s stick to this case,” Judge Mahoney said mildly.
“So long as Mr. Backleboff does the same,” I shot back.
The judge’s eyes flicked between us. “Agreed. I can see the defendant has no criminal history, and the law regarding health supplements isn’t clear. However, the law regarding mushrooms is. Bail is set at fifty thousand dollars.”
My stomach rolled over.
“Please submit your ideal timeline and several available dates to my clerk,” Judge Mahoney said, her tone crisp. “I find it’s easier to schedule pretrial motions and trial that way. I expect that by the end of next week.”
Nana reached out and held my hand.
The judge pounded her gavel, and the sound echoed through the marble chamber. “Court dismissed.” She rose, gathering her papers in one clean motion, and swept out with her robe trailing behind her. The sharp click of her heels faded into the hallway.
I stood, the air in the courtroom oddly still now that the authority had left. The scent of lemon oil and polished cedar lingered, heavy and sweet, wrapping around the tension that hadn’t gone anywhere.
Nana turned toward me, her face pale. “I don’t have fifty thousand dollars.”
“I do,” Aiden said.
My head jerked his way. “We can go to a bail bondsman,” I started, but he was already gripping the back of the bench in front of him, pulling himself upright. His knuckles went white, and a shadow passed under his bronze skin.
“No, I’ve got it.” He reached into his back jeans pocket and pulled out his phone, thumbs moving fast.
Nana shook her head. “It’s too much money.”
He shoved the phone back into his pocket. “It’s done.”
“What did you just do?” I asked.
“I texted Saber.” His hand tightened on the bench again, the veins standing out along his wrist.
I swallowed. “Yeah?”
“He’s bringing over the cash.”
I rocked back on my heels. “You have fifty thousand dollars in cash?”
Jolene O’Sullivan edged closer, her maroon boots clicking on the tile, her expression a perfect blend of curiosity and greed. Her phone hovered like a weapon, recording.
Aiden didn’t answer.
Nana frowned. “That’s too much money to lose. I’ll go wait in the jail for trial. It’s okay.”
“He’ll get the money back, Nana,” I said quietly, gaze on him. “I need to talk to my boyfriend.” My voice was tighter than I meant. I had no idea he was that flush. Not that it mattered, but still—who just had that kind of cash lying around?
My frown deepened. How often did this man get arrested?
Sheriff Franco rose slowly from the back row, his cane clicking on the marble floor.
“All right, Fiona, let’s go back to my office until we get this sorted out.
Soon as we get the cash…” His gaze flicked to Aiden and back, something unreadable crossing his face.
“We’ll release you on your own recognizance.
I promise I’ll investigate this as well. ”
Aiden took a breath, his hand braced on the bench. “This might coincide with one of my cases,” he said, voice barely steady. “Mrs. O’Shea, we need to have a sit-down. We can go do that in the sheriff’s office now if you want.”
His voice had gone soft, almost gentle. The kind of tone that cracked straight through my defenses. Tears threatened, but anger burned hotter. Not now.
“Oh, Aiden, you’re such a sweetheart,” Nana said. “I told you to call me Nana, repeatedly.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured. He swayed slightly, color draining from his face.
“Aiden?” My voice came out sharp.
His blue gaze met mine. “This might be bad—”
Before I could move, his eyes rolled back, and he dropped, hitting his head on the bench as he went down.
Jolene yelped and scrambled back, her boots squeaking on the polished tile, phone still clutched in her hand.
“Aiden,” I gasped, stumbling forward. His body sprawled between the benches, shoulder twisted awkwardly beneath one. He was out cold. Completely gone.