Page 23 of Defend Me

Noah’s hand has moved to rest on the table. I hesitate, then reach out and give it a pat, like I did to Penny.

He frowns. “Uh, what was that?”

I flush. “I’m comforting you.”

He gives me a side eye. “Since when you do comfort anyone?”

“Since now.”

“Well, stop. You’re freaking me out.”

“Fine, forget it.” I shouldn’t have to comfort Noah anyway. He’s a grown up. Who cares if he looks all muscly and vulnerable at the same time? There’s work to be done. Focus on the task at hand.

“The plan,” I say, “is that you tell me what happened that morning. Every single minute detail. Do not leave anything out, even if it seems mundane. Do you understand?”

For the first time, I see a flash of unease in Noah’s eyes that immediately sets me on edge. He shifts in his seat. His gaze flits to the water and then to my phone.

I feel that prickle I’ve felt a hundred times before when interviewing a client.

There’s something about that morning that Noah does not want to tell me.

CHAPTER SEVEN

NOAH

Crap.

I knew this was coming. Pop and I were talking it over last night.

I’ll have to come clean about where I was that morning. The problem is the truth kind of makes me look like a stalker.

Not of Marion—god, no. This has nothing to do with her murder. It’s just…not a good look. And something I never thought I’d have to talk about.

Especially not with Von.

And by the way she’s looking at me, she knows I’m hiding something. But, ever the professional, Von presses the record button on her phone, stating her name and the date. “Interview one with Noah Patterson,” she says, then looks at me expectantly.

I rub my eyes and lean back in the chair. “Okay,” I say quietly.

“Let’s begin with the night of the party,” she says. “What time did you arrive?”

I relax a fraction, glad I have some time to ramp up to my confession.

“A little after seven pm.”

“And did you have any interactions with my mother at the event?”

“I said hello. Congratulated her on throwing another great party.” Marion’s parties were legendary. “I wasn’t doing anything that would come across as stalking her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“If that was what I was asking, I would have asked it,” Von says impatiently. “What else did these interactions entail?”

I sigh and rub my forehead. “I don’t know,” I say. “It was five years ago. I remember seeing her in the receiving line. She talked to me and the sheriff for a bit at one point. I saw her in the dining room when they brought the desserts out. But the thing I remember most about the party wasn’t your mom. It was talking to Caden about Isla.”

Von raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“What? He’s my best friend. It’s part of my job description to give him relationship advice.”

“That’s not particularly helpful.”

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