Page 9 of Warped

Chapter Five

V

I sat in an interview room in the courthouse, opposite the prosecution lawyer, Caroline Bailey. I was trying to focus on everything she was saying to me, and not zone out. I’d not slept well the previous night, worrying about what was going to happen today, and if someone would try to do something to stop me getting to the courthouse. Between my palms, I cupped a now almost cold mug of bitter coffee, which rested on the table between us. A large file of paperwork sat in front of the lawyer, which she referred to repeatedly as she asked me question after question.

My stomach churned with nerves, and I felt lightheaded, as though I wasn’t really there. I hadn’t expected this part to be so hard. I’d been preparing myself for the moment in court when I’d be forced to face my father again and tell a room full of people all the details I knew about the bad things he’d done, but I hadn’t thought this part would be difficult. I wasn’t someone who was easily intimidated, but everything about this place felt intimidating—from the massive stone pillars outside the entrance to the huge marbled interior.

Two of Tony’s men, Paulie and Warren, had driven me here. They’d had to leave their firearms in the car, but I knew they waited for me outside. Tony wouldn’t allow me any chance of meeting with someone else, or have someone approaching me without him knowing about it.

I kept feeling like the lawyer was going to trip me up and I’d make a mistake. Caroline Bailey went through the same questions over and over again, asking the same thing in different ways, until I felt like I didn’t know what I was saying anymore. I needed to get a grip on myself. This wasn’t like me. I needed to remember the person I’d become—the cool, hard bitch who would kill someone if necessary.

“I’m sorry,” said Ms. Bailey, who, with her dark skin, corkscrew curls, and beautiful chocolate brown eyes, looked too pretty to be the bulldog everyone made her out to be. “I know this is hard for you, but this is what the defense is going to do when you’re on the stand. You know that, right? They’re going to twist every little thing you say in order to make it look like you’re either lying or you’re omitting the truth. They will want to discredit you and will bring up any tiny thing to make you look like an unreliable witness. If you’re finding it hard with me now, it will be a hundred times worse when you’re in a courtroom full of people, and your father sitting right across from you.”

I nodded. “I understand. I’m fine, I promise.”

But beads of sweat had broken out across my forehead and my armpits grew damp, my shirt clinging to my skin. I kept my arms clamped to my sides, not wanting the lawyer to notice. The truth was I had a ton of stuff in my past, which, if brought up on the stand, would make me look like a terrible witness. But I was relying on people either not knowing about those things—such as the man I had killed, who had raped Nicole when she was fourteen—or else that people would be too scared to get involved. I hadn’t lived an innocent, careful life. Far from it.

“Okay, good,” she said, looking back down at her paperwork. “Now, how about we talk about the main thing that brought you here,” she glanced back up at me, “the death of your mother.”

I nodded and swallowed hard again. My stomach was churning and the room felt distant.

“That’s right,” I said. “My father shot my mother, and I saw the whole thing.”

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