Page 24 of Defend Me

“Sorry,” I snap. “I didn’t realize I was going to be charged with Marion’s murder five years down the line.”

Von bristles. “Well?” she says.

“Well what?”

She grits her teeth. “I said every detail, no matter how small.”

“You want to know about the advice I gave Caden?”

She sighs heavily. “No, I do notwantto know about my brother’s love life. But Ineedto know every detail you remember from that party. And the two appear to have a joining line, so let’s get it over with, shall we?”

I guess I can appreciate how thorough she’s being. “Caden wanted to ask Isla out and your dad was being an asshole about it. Telling him he had to get married before he could take over thecompany, which is insane, but also par for the course with your dad.” I wait for Von to snap at me for insulting her father, but she doesn’t react. “I told him to get Russell out of his head for one damn minute and do the thing he’d been talking about for nearly a year.”

That seems to take Von by surprise.

“He liked her for that long?” she asks, then shakes her head. “Never mind. After you and Caden finished your Gossip Girl session, what else do you remember?”

“Well, I do seem to remember seeing you,” I point out.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes. What else?”

I struggle to bring the images of the party up in my mind. They’re faded and worn, with blank spots in places. It hadn’t occurred to me to try and remember that night—we never suspected the murderer was at the party. “I know I hung out with Franco Amercini a bit.”

“Who?” Von asks, prepping her pen against the legal pad.

“He runs Osteria Fortuna. The Italian restaurant in town,” I add when Von looks blank.

“Right,” she says, her pen scratching against the paper.

“And I talked to Charlotte.” The pen scratches again. “Von.” She looks up. “You know Charlotte. Right?”

“Sure,” she says dismissively. “Isla told me about her.”

“Oh my fucking god, Von. The two of you were in the same class together all through elementary school.”

She huffs. “Do you remember everyone you went to elementary school with?”

“Yes,” I retort. “I’m still friends with most of them.”

Or at least, I was. Silence wraps around me, thick and uncomfortable. Have I lost all my friends now? Will anyone in town ever speak to me again, or see me as anything but a man accused of murder? I picture Cody’s face, and Mike’s, as they left the courtroom. Judging me. Suspicious. But there were people there on my side too. I have to hold onto that.

Von clears her throat. “Moving on. You talked to…” She checks her notes. “Franco, and Charlotte.”

“And some of the deputies. And my friends—Jake, Cody, Linda May, Emily, Mike…”

Von looks exasperated. “Do you have a yearbook or something? I need faces for these names.”

“If you spent ten minutes in town, you’d see them all.”

Von mutters something under her breath. “Okay, so your friends Jake and Mike?—”

“Mike’s not really a friend,” I interject. “He’s kind of the town troublemaker.”

Von’s head whips up. “Troublemaker how? Are you saying he could be a suspect?”

I frown. “Mike? Stalking your mom? I don’t think so. He mostly gets drunk and does dumb shit, like starting fights or knocking Mrs. Greerson’s trash cans over. I can’t imagine him writing those letters, using words likeeternal loveand all that. Plus, your mom was so much older—if Mike was going to be obsessed with someone, I would think it would be someone our own age. We were all in our mid-twenties then and your mom was in her fifties.”

“Plenty of younger men find older women attractive,” Von points out.

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