Page 87 of Trust My Bodyguard

She sighs, eyes closed and face peaceful.

I allow us to catch a breath before speaking again. “That took a turn.”

She giggles. “Yeah, it did.”

“So, have you reconsidered?” I keep my tone neutral so she doesn’t take offense. “Are you still going to be bait?”

Her eyes open and there’s a serene smile on her face. “Yes, I’m going through with it.” She pats my cheek. “And no more conversations about it. I’m done arguing.”

Of course. I expected nothing less.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Ivy

I’ve been holed up in the media room for two hours since the hearing for the Olwen case commenced. I was first examined by the attorney representing the Olwen kids and then cross-examined by the attorney for Daryl, and then one last time by the attorney for the children. Revisiting the details in such a grim, matter-of-fact manner leaves me cold inside.

“What did you see when you went to bedroom for the six-year-old, Miss Ross?”

I was asked this question before. I don’t want to think about the event, much less recount it but it’s the only way to ensure the children are kept out of their abusive father’s hands.

My voice comes out weak and strained. I’m not thirsty. A half-drunk bottle of water sits next to my laptop. But I really don’t want to talk about this.

“Tell the court about the details of her condition,” the lawyer says.

The girl’s wide brown eyes flashes behind my closed eyelids. She’s not in court today. None of the kids are. I have seen her twice since the day I found her. She’s better than she was but I’ll always remember her that way.

I narrate what I saw, closing my eyes for a second, trying to put the image out of my head. It persists, torturing me. By the time I’m finished with my testimony, I’m a shaky mess.

“Thank you, Miss Ross,” the attorney says. “That’ll be all.”

I grab my water bottle and drain it but it’s not enough to fill the hollowness in my chest. More witnesses are brought to the stand: a teacher who missed her in school, a neighbor who heard strange noises, one whose kids used to play with her.

Finally, the judge is satisfied with what he has heard. He postpones the judgment until a future date.

My shoulders sink with relief. It’s over. Even though the shooter prevented me from being present in person, Myrtle helped in allowing me to keep the children from the monster that is Daryl Olwen. Based on the evidence laid out, I can already guess what the ruling will be.

“Thank you, Ivy.” The attorney enters my line of sight. “You did very well.”

I try to smile but my face can’t form the full motion. “I’m just happy the kids won’t be handed back to him.”

He nods. “We’re all hopeful. I’ll inform you when the judgment comes.”

I nod a thank you and end the video feed.

I drop my head and release a sigh. The shit people go through.Kids, in fact. I can complain about my parents and rightfully fault them, but they never thought beating Iris and I up or tying us in our bedrooms without food or water was a good punishment for “talking back.” I don’t know if shooting at us when we’re grown is any better though. I just can’t get Daryl’s arrogant face out of my head when I confronted him and he said what he put the poor child through was discipline.

“It’s over,” I tell myself.

I get on my feet and stretch my arms above my head. The beautiful view out the window catches my eye. That’s certainly a better place to be than within these four walls where my thoughts would remain gloomy.

I head back to Brody’s room and stash my laptop away and then I put on more appropriate clothing for taking a walk outside.

Ten minutes later, I’m crunching snow and dirt under my boots. The sun is bright but muted by the fog in the atmosphere. Its warmth is pleasant on the skin. I lift my head and pull in a deep breath of that crisp mountain air. It tingles my nostrils and fills my lung. This would feel heavenly on any other day, but I still feel lost somehow.

I can’t stop thinking about the Olwens, Luke, and the trap I’m meant to set for him. What if I’m wrong and Brody’s right? What if putting myself in danger is the wrong step? What if I fail?

“Nice day for a walk, isn’t it?” Brody’s voice stops me short. He’s marching uphill behind me. How long has he been following me? I take in his sharp features. Certainly long enough for his nose to be tinged with pink from the cold air.

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