Page 84 of Defend Me

We take the back exit to avoid the few reporters who are probably still mingling around outside.

I’m glad it’s not a circus like the arraignment. But I bet that will change once the trial starts. Von texts Alex to meet us behind the courthouse.

“We’re going to the Crooked Screw,” she tells him, then turns to me. “Time to take back the narrative,” she says. “I’m sick of Everly Harris and her clickbait. We’re going to remind this town who you really are: a friend, a grandson, a neighbor, and someone who has always looked out for his community.”

God, I wish I could kiss her. If Wilbur thinks a huge witness list is all it takes to throw Von off her game, he’s got another think coming.

He who underestimates Siobhan Everton does so at his own peril.

“Should I call some reinforcements?” I ask.

“Yes,” Von says. “You try Charlotte. I’ll text Al.”

I take out my phone and bring up Charlotte’s thread.

Hey, I’m back in town and headed to the Screw with Von. Our plan is to remind people I’m not the person Everly Harris keeps making me out to be. Want to join?

She replies immediately.Fuck yeah! You bet your ass I’ll be there. See you in a few!

I chuckle. “Charlotte is a yes,” I say.

“So is Alistair,” Von says, looking pleased and slipping her phone into her purse. “Operation Welcome Home is a go.”

“Operation Free Noah?” Grayson suggests.

I laugh. “That makes me sound like I’m an orca.”

The Crooked Screw is a welcome sight, and my spirits lift. It’s comforting to see all the familiar shops and restaurants on Main Street: Perks and Magnolia’s Petals, Osteria Fortuna and the Grater Good. The Screw is fronted by large, industrial windows with an iron corkscrew hanging above the door. The inside is well-lit, with a long bar, some couches in the front, and high-top tables scattered around. Though summer is long gone, Magnolia Bay’s tourist season runs straight through Christmas, so there’s a healthy amount of strangers scattered among the locals.

Linda May Cheswick scurries up to us, holding some menus.

“Hi,” she says. Her eyes skitter between me and Von. “Table for, um, three?”

“Five, actually,” I say.

She ducks her head and glances around at the full bar. “We’ve got a table out on the patio.”

“Great,” I say.

She leads us past the bar where Mike and Cody sit, sipping beers and watching us. Mike is glowering at me, but Cody looks more timid than accusatory.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” I mutter to Von.

“Yes,” she says firmly. “They’ll get used to you and stop staring. Eventually.”

“How long is eventually?” I ask.

We pass Jake, behind the bar pouring wine, and he puts the bottle down when he sees us.

“Noah!” he cries, hurrying around the bar. “It’s so good to have you back.” He pulls me in for a one-pat hug then turns to Von. “Von, thank you again for handling that guy.”

“It was nothing,” Von says.

“It was not nothing,” Jake replies. “I was going to lose my shirt over that lawsuit. Are you sure I can’t reimburse you for?—”

“No,” Von says. “I was happy to help.” Her mouth tics up into a dry grin. “I’ve known a lot of his type in my work. He deserved to be put in his place.”

Jake chuckles and I notice Mike and Cody listening intently.

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