Chapter 6
Monday evening
Sabre stepped inside just as someone laughed in the kitchen, followed by the sound of pots clinking against the stove.
The smell of garlic and roasted chicken drifted down the hall.
For a moment she stood still, enjoying the happy noise around her.
This was the part of life that never showed up in police reports or court transcripts. This was her family.
JP walked in behind her and set his black Stetson on the small table near the door. “Are you cooking tonight?” he asked.
Sabre shook her head. “Not unless you want cereal.”
JP smiled. “Then I’m very glad someone else is.”
They stepped into the kitchen.
Dené, Sabre’s fourteen-year-old cousin, stood at the stove, stirring something in a pan while Morgan dished up the vegetables beside her. Gene, JP’s brother and the father of Morgan and Conner, sat at the kitchen table with a bowl, tearing lettuce into a salad.
Dené glanced over her shoulder. “Perfect timing,” she said. “Five more minutes.”
Morgan looked up. “Wash your hands. Connor’s already circling the food like a shark.”
“I heard that,” Connor said from the doorway.
Gene chuckled quietly.
Sabre leaned against the counter for a moment, watching the scene.
Dené cooking with quiet concentration. Morgan moving quickly with the vegetables.
Gene calmly assembling the salad like it was the most important task in the room.
She thought about how just a few years earlier, she’d been living alone in her condo.
She wondered now how she ever got by without every single one of them.
It felt steady and normal, something Sabre hadn’t had much of lately.
Dené turned off the burner. “All right,” she said. “Let’s eat before Connor starts stealing things off the counter.”
Connor grinned.
“Too late.” Morgan swatted his hand away from a piece of chicken. “Sit.”
They gathered around the table.
JP took a seat and nodded toward the food. “This looks impressive.”
Dené smiled faintly. “Morgan did most of it.”
Morgan shrugged. “I like cooking.”
Gene set the salad bowl in the middle of the table. “And I like supervising.”
Connor laughed. “I saw you. You tore the lettuce.”
“Exactly.” Gene laughed. “While I was supervising.”
Dinner unfolded the way family meals often did, conversation drifting from one topic to another without much direction. Connor talked about an incident at school. Morgan complained about a group project. And Dené told a story about something ridiculous a teacher had said earlier that day.
JP occasionally offered a comment that made someone laugh.
Sabre found herself relaxing despite the knot that had followed her home. For a little while, the case stayed outside the house.
Eventually, the plates emptied. Connor gathered them first. “I’ll do cleanup,” he said.
Gene stood too. “I’ll help.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “You’re going to supervise again, aren’t you?”
Gene grinned. “Someone has to maintain standards.”
They carried the dishes to the sink. Morgan began stacking leftovers in containers. Dené wiped the counter. Sabre took in the moment.
She stared at her family. “You’re all being so good to help. Who are you? And what have you done with our teenagers?”
“They know you’re going through some stuff,” Gene said.
JP picked up his Stetson and turned it slowly in his hands. Sabre caught his eye.
“Walk with me?” she said quietly.
JP nodded.
They stepped out onto the back porch. The evening air was cool, carrying the faint scent of eucalyptus.
Sabre leaned against the railing. JP settled into one of the chairs, resting the hat on his knee. For a few seconds neither of them spoke.
Finally, JP said, “You’re still thinking about the girl.”
Sabre exhaled. “Yes.”
“Are you going to take the case?”
“I haven’t decided.”
JP waited.
Sabre looked out into the yard. “The hearing was continued for two days,” she said. “Judge Hammouri wants an answer by then. I either need to tell her I’m taking the case, or that I’ve convinced Bay to talk to someone else.”
“That sounds like Hammouri.”
Sabre folded her arms. “So, what do you think? Should I take this case?”
JP tilted his head. “I think that’s the wrong question.”
Sabre glanced at him. “How so?”
“You should be asking whether you want another case at all.”
Sabre didn’t know yet.
JP continued. “And that’s a decision you have to make yourself.”
Sabre sighed. “I knew you were going to say that.”
JP smiled. “But you still hoped I wouldn’t.”
Sabre turned toward him. “Forget the bigger question. Just tell me what you think about the case.”
“Bay isn’t telling the truth.”
“I know.”
JP raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t bother you?”
“Of course, it does.” Sabre leaned back against the railing. “But it doesn’t mean she’s guilty. In my line of work, I’ve met very few teenagers who are telling the truth. At least, in the beginning.”
JP didn’t argue.
Sabre continued. “She’s protecting someone.”
“That’s your theory.”
“It’s more than a theory. She almost said it today. Then she stopped.”
JP nodded. “Which means whoever she’s protecting matters more to her than saving herself.”
“Yes.”
JP turned the hat in his hands. “That kind of loyalty usually comes from somewhere. But it doesn’t change the fact that she’s lying to you.”
Sabre crossed her arms. “Clients lie to their attorneys all the time.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to represent them.”
Sabre gave him a look. “You’ve been around me long enough to know that’s not how this works.”
JP smiled. “I was wondering when the lawyer was going to show up.”
Sabre paced once across the porch. “So, debate me.”
JP shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not looking for a debate.”
“What am I looking for?”
“Permission.”
Sabre frowned. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s accurate.”
Sabre opened her mouth to respond, then stopped.
JP stood. “If you want a real argument, you might want to talk to someone else.”
Sabre tilted her head. “Who?”
JP laughed. “Bob.”
Sabre laughed too. Bob was her best friend and a juvenile court attorney. “Bob always argues with me.”
“Exactly.” JP opened the door. “And he won’t let you talk your way around the hard parts.”
Sabre watched him go back into the house. Then she looked out into the dark yard. Two days. That was all the time she had to decide. And the longer she thought about Bay sitting alone in that detention cell, the harder it was to walk away.