Page 3 of Defend Me

Why didn’t she tell anyone she was being stalked in the first place? Why keep those letters a secret?

Caden studies me. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything,” I say sincerely.

“Why were you so cagey about helping me? You kept throwing police procedure in my face, insisting you couldn’t give me access to your files or look up an address. But then other times you’d give me advice. Like you were trying to steer me in one direction or another.”

“I was trying to be a good friendandgood cop,” I say wearily. “And I guess I failed at both. The sheriff was being so strict. I wanted to help you more! But I’m not allowed to let you just peruse the files of an open investigation. And if it seemed like you were workingforthe police department, then anything you found might have gotten thrown out in court, if you didn’t follow procedure. Which how could you, you don’t even know what procedure is. You couldn’t be seen as acting as an agent of the department. And to be honest, Cade, I don’t think the sheriff ever thought you were going to find anything. That’s why he left the case open for a couple more months. He figured what could it hurt—your dad was pissed at him for coming up with nothing after all these years. He thought he could get back into Russell Everton’s good graces, show that he really had done everything he could, and then the case would get shoved down in the basement anyway.”

Caden seems to consider this. “Isla and I think that the killer had firearms training,” he says.

“Yeah, we thought that too,” I say. That was something we withheld from the press. “It’s Long Island,” I point out. “Half the county has firearms training.”

There are lots of hunters and gun enthusiasts in the North Fork.

Caden grits his teeth in frustration. “This is bad, Noah.”

“Yeah but…I mean, they’ve got to realize I didn’t do this,” I say, that uncomfortable flutter of panic returning. “Right?”

“The casing,” Caden points out. “You said yourself that was hard evidence.”

I agree that the casing does not look good. I’m racking my brain to think of how the hell my print could have gotten onthere. It doesn’t make sense. I didn’t even have a gun five years ago! I was assigned one for training but it was kept locked up at the shooting range. It wasn’t like the sheriff was letting me walk around with it.

“The longer I’m in here,” I say slowly, “the more whoever really did this gets away with it.”

There’s a long silence. Caden leans forward, a brooding expression on his face.

“What does Isla think?” I ask. Isla is from the townie part of Magnolia Bay, like me. She didn’t grow up in one of the huge mansions that line the bay like Caden did—the wealthy part of town, known as the Way.

Caden can’t help but give a warm smile at the mention of the woman he’s been in love with since we were teenagers. Did he know he was in love with her then? No. He’s a great guy but a big ole dummy when it comes to matters of the heart. I saw it though. I saw the connection they had, even back then. And Caden was never a snob about his wealth, like his sister, Siobhan. Von and I have been sparring with each other since we were kids, never seeing eye to eye, never agreeing on anything, from politics to music to the criminal justice system. She’s a lawyer—and not just any kind of lawyer, a corporate criminal defense attorney. She represents bankers and hedge fund managers and all manner of dickheads who defraud people like me out of their pensions and then get off with a slap on the wrist.

Wonder what she thinks about my arrest—the thought of anyone in the Everton family, even Von, believing I could have killed Marion is physically painful. For a second, it’s hard to breathe.

“Isla was certain you didn’t do it about ten seconds after they dragged you off,” he says. I feel relief wash over me, my lungs once again filling with air.

“And your family?” I ask.

“I came straight here,” he says. “I haven’t gotten a chance totalk to them yet. But I mean…we know you, Noah. Killing Mom?Stalkingher? Writing her love letters? That’s…”

“Gross,” I finish. “No offense,” I add quickly. “But it’s downright creepy to think I’d write her that stuff.”

“It has to be someone who knew about the entrance to her garden,” he says. “The secret break in the hedge that accesses the backyard with no cameras.”

“A lot of people know about that,” I point out. “Think about all the parties your mom threw over the years. All the investors that came for dinner with your dad, to bend the knee. I can’t explain the casing, but everything else…” Knowing about the garden, having firearms training…I’m not the only person who fits those categories. I slam my hands down on the table, the frustration boiling over. “This isn’tright! There’s someone out there laughing at this situation, getting off on knowing he got away with it.”

A new, terrible thought occurs to me.

“Does Pop know I’ve been arrested?” I ask.

Pop is my grandfather. He’s raised me since my parents died. I moved back in with him a few years ago, as he’s gotten older.

What is he going to think about his only grandson being charged with murder?

“Probably,” Caden admits.

My stomach sinks. He’s right. Magnolia Bay is a small town. The Magnolia Grapevine, as Pop calls it, is likely in full swing. This news is spreading around town like wildfire, I bet.

My brain starts churning, trying to find answers, something that’s provable.

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