Page 5 of Defend Me

Not me. You don’t make junior partner at Phillips, Brace, and Horowitz by age twenty-nine without cutting a few throats. Metaphorically, of course. My mentor, Howard Horowitz, has taught me well. I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am. I want to make partner by age thirty-five and start my own firm by forty.

The grandfather clock on the wall ticks loudly as we wait for Caden’s return.

“What’s taking him so long?” Alistair wonders.

“Maybe they won’t let him talk to Noah,” Finn says. With his jet-black hair slicked back, and his ice-blue eyes, Finn looks nothing like Alistair, whose sandy hair is always flopping into his hazel eyes. Their personalities couldn’t be more different either. But there’s always been this energy between them—that “twin thing” as Alistair calls it.

“Please,” Alistair scoffs. “He’s an Everton.”

“They should never have arrested him so publicly,” Finn grumbles. “And on our property no less.”

He glances at Dad, likely hoping for some sign of agreement, but our father doesn’t acknowledge him.

As if on cue, we hear footsteps and then Caden enters the room.

Daisy jumps to her feet and rushes over to hug him. Al and I both stand. I feel like an arrow strung on a bow, my body quivering with tension. Finn is looming by the window.

Dad doesn’t move, sitting in the armchair by the fireplace, still as a statue.

“He’s innocent,” Caden declares, and I feel the tension drain from the room in a palpable way. Somehow, Caden has always had this aura that all of us siblings have followed. A natural leader, Mom used to say. I’ve resented it while also finding comfort in it, which is an annoying place for a younger sister to be in.

“I knew it,” Daisy says.

“But they’re keeping him in jail until his arraignment on Monday,” Caden says.

At that, Dad’s eyes flicker to life.

I immediately step in. “Who is representing him?” I ask.

Caden grimaces. “Well,” he says. “I was hoping you would do it.”

I feel everyone’s gaze swivel to me. “Me?” I say.

I glance at Dad. He looks…intrigued. I have to admit, it’s a good idea. Keeps this whole thing in the family. We don’t have to call in outside help.

“Yes,” Daisy gushes.

“That’s a great idea,” Alistair agrees.

“It sets the right tone,” Finn says. He’s all about tones and optics now. He’s planning to run for Congress in the next election.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Daisy says. “Noah isn’t a murderer.”

I privately agree, but the lawyer in me can’t help but argue.

“What did he say about the fingerprint?” I ask Caden.

“He can’t explain it,” Caden admits. “But as for the rest—knowing about the entrance in the garden, having firearms training—those could apply to lots of people.”

“I can’t picture Noah writing love letters to Mom,” Alistair says. Dad seems to freeze in his chair. He hasn’t talked at all about the stalker letters—only me and my siblings have discussed them among ourselves. I have no idea what Dad thinks about them. But I bet he’s pissed she didn’t tell him. I know I am. Ever since we found them, I can’t help feeling this slow burning anger at Mom for not saying anything toanyoneabout something so important. Dad would have moved heaven and earth to find this person and destroy them.

“And don’t you think it’s strange,” Caden says, “that there were no prints on the door handle, no prints in the shed at all, no prints on the letters…but then suddenly, boom, prints on a casing found five years later.”

Finn cocks his head. “Yeah,” he says. “Thatisstrange.”

“So he forgot to wear gloves when he loaded the gun,” I say. I love my family deeply, but they do not think like lawyers.

Caden frowns at me. “He was training to be acop,” he says. “And he just happened to forget about fingerprints when he was loading the gun?”

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