Page 49 of Defend Me

There’s everything you could ever want, right at your fingertips. I always thought New Yorkers were standoffish, but it turns out, there are lots of really nice people in Von’s building. I met a Rick, in 6A, at the gym—he’s going through a divorce, and I let him vent his feelings as we spot each other doing bench presses. The gay couple in 11C have asked me to join their book club. I find out that Benito works two jobs, putting his kid through college, and Sam knows the stats of every single player on the Mets roster. I’m a Yankees fan, so we razz each other a bit every time I go out for groceries.

With Patrick willing to testify and Von and Grayson prepping for the pretrial hearing, I’m feeling extremely confident that this whole thing will be over by the holidays. They can’t put me in jail if I have an alibi. With that dark cloud no longer hovering overme, I dive into the assignment Von gave me. Someone murdered Marion and it sure as shit wasn’t me. So in between making new friends, working out, and making sure Von gets a homecooked meal at the end of every day, I start to go through the case files again.

Wilbur finally sent over the discovery. It’s nothing I haven’t looked through before, but I try to approach it with fresh eyes. By Friday, I feel like I’m beginning to have it all memorized—the 911 call Russell made, the interviews with the family, the lack of forensic evidence collected in the pottery shed where Marion was shot. Except for the shell casing. How did the MBSD miss it, all those years ago? And why my print? Was that an accident? Or did the person who shot Marion use my gun on purpose?

But why frame me?

The questions circle my mind like water circling a drain.

I reread the letters the stalker sent. There were three of them that Caden found, locked inside a desk drawer in a small study at the Everton mansion, each of them tagged as evidence in the files.

Letter 1:

Marion—

I think about you all the time. The look you gave me yesterday told me you think of me too. Do not deny our love.

Letter 2:

Marion—

Why can you not accept we were meant to be together? I would do anything for you. Did you receive my gift? No one understands you the way I do.

Letter 3:

Marion—

Our love is eternal. Why do you resist it? I know you feel the same. Surrender to the inevitable. I can’t wait another day. I must be with you.

There were no fingerprints on the letters, no DNA. They’re unsigned and undated. But two things stand out to me: the lookMarion supposedly gave this person, and the gift. I wonder if she kept that too, hidden somewhere in the house. I note the person doesn’t really use contractions either—just that onecan’tin the third letter. It makes the writing sound overly formal. I’m not exactly sure what that might mean, but I’m making notes on everything, no matter how small or insignificant.

I wake on Saturday morning and lie in bed for a moment, listening to the now-familiar sounds of traffic coming in through my open window. I wonder what Von does on the weekends. She strikes me as someone who works nonstop. Maybe she’ll go into the office like it’s any other day. I don’t know why the thought pricks at me. She’s working on my defense so I should be glad she’s focused.

But I’ve come to enjoy her company over this week. Being on the same team with her hasn’t been as frustrating as I imagined. She’s whip-smart—I knew that already—but she’s also got a cutting sense of humor and sometimes I think I see a softer side of her peeking out from beneath her armor. The way she folds herself onto the couch at the end of a long day. The unexpected patience in her voice when a junior associate calls her in the evening for advice. She’s even started doing the dishes after dinner. I didn’t think Von knew how to do dishes.

I throw my covers back and head down the hall to the bathroom. The sink in here drips sometimes. I should do something about that. I turn on the shower and let the hot water flow over my back.

The weather will start to change soon, now that we’re entering September. In a few weeks, the leaves on the trees will turn red, and orange, and gold. By the time we return to Magnolia Bay for the hearing, the smell of woodsmoke will fill the air and I’ll get to feel a crisp breeze on my face.

I towel off and dress in my usual jeans, grabbing a black tee and scratching at the coarse hairs that cover my jawline. I’ve never gone this long without shaving, but I kind of like growingout a beard. It makes me feel like I could be a different version of myself here. Even if just for a short time.

I head into the kitchen to make coffee and Von’s green juice and nearly walk right into Von herself.

My brain screeches to a halt as my knees lock. I’ve only ever seen Von in work clothes—pencil skirts, high heels, silk blouses. I’ve grown so used to her attire it almost feels like a part of her. A second skin. I’ve only known Weekday Von.

Saturday Morning Von is a whole other thing entirely.

She stands in the kitchen wearing a pair of sky-blue athletic leggings and a matching crop top, with a yellow zip-up jacket folded over one arm. Her skin is taut and smooth across her stomach, her leggings showcase the swell of her hips, hugging her toned thighs, her feet laced up in a pair of bright yellow Nikes. Her hair is pulled up in a high ponytail and it swings over one shoulder, brushing the tops of her breasts.

I can’t catch my breath. I don’t know where to look. Everywhere I want to look, I feel like I shouldn’t. This isVon.This is Caden’ssister.My cock twitches against my thigh and it makes me jump. Christ, what am I doing? She’s mylawyer.

But fuck, those legs…

“Morning,” Von says, and I realize my face is slack and I’m gawping at her like an idiot.

“Morning,” I say, hurrying to grab a mug from the cabinet, grateful to hide my face for a minute. I need to pull myself together.Caden’s sister, Caden’s sister,I think on repeat as I pour myself a cup of coffee. “Where are you, um, legging? I mean, going?”

“I thought…” There’s a pause, and she clears her throat, a delicate sound that echoes over my skin. I feel too-awake all of a sudden. “I have a surprise for you.”

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