“And since the bribes were for a conviction rather than an acquittal, my dad’s appealing on the grounds that his defense attorney was actually working against him.” I followed the facts to their obvious conclusion.
“Two days ago, Internal Affairs found the payments. They were verified and submitted as evidence in your father’s appeal. This morning, the judge granted him a new trial.”
Even though I’d been expecting this outcome from the moment Clay had started explaining things, it still felt like I’d gotten hit again. My chest tightened, and my lungs constricted, making it difficult to breathe. With everything that had happened today, I wasn’t sure I could take anything else, but I couldn’t show that side of myself to Clay. Not when we needed to keep some space between us.
“They’re going to need you to testify.”
I nodded, unable to speak just yet. That wasn’t a surprise either. There had been other people involved, other victims, but nothing had been more damning than his thirteen-year-old daughter sitting in the witness stand and talking about what he’d done. I’d been old enough and strong enough to stand up to the defense attorney’s questions, but young enough that it had been difficult to find a way to discredit me without getting a sympathy vote from the jury.
“I know it’s been nine years, but–”
“It’s not something you forget,” I interrupted quietly. “I remember every detail.”
He touched me now, taking my hand and holding it between his. “I wish I could tell you that you wouldn’t need to do this, but it’s out of my hands.”
“It’s all right,” I lied.
“No, it’s not.”
I managed a partial smile. “No, it’s not,” I agreed. “But I survived it then, and I’ll survive it now.”
“You had Anton then,” Clay said, squeezing my hand. “And you’ll have me this time. I already put in a formal request to be involved with making sure you’re protected and that you get where you need to go.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I protested.
“You’re my friend,” he said simply. “And it’s what Anton would’ve wanted me to do.”
I nodded because I didn’t have it in me to argue. My choices were simple. Testify and relive that awful day, knowing that some suit was going to pick apart every single thing I said and try to make me out to be unreliable. Or option two, refuse to testify and watch as my father went free.
No way in hell was I going to let that monster out.
“I can stay for a while,” Clay said, “so you aren’t alone. No funny business, I promise.”
“Do you have a room reserved somewhere?”
“I was planning on driving back tonight.”
“No,” I said, removing my hand from his. “You’re staying on the couch.” I pointed at him. “And no arguing.”
He held up his hands in surrender, and I went to find bedding for the couch. Saying that I didn’t want him driving back tonight was true, but it also gave him an excuse to stay and keep an eye on me.
As much as it pained me to admit it, it also meant I didn’t have to be alone tonight, and we could keep pretending that things between us were the same as they were before we’d started sleeping together.
I needed that right now because things were going to get worse before they got better.