Page 102 of Defend Me

“You may make your point on cross,” Judge Warner says gruffly. “Objection overruled.”

What?The judge is clearly giving the prosecution an unreasonable amount of leeway. But it’s his courtroom, he can basically do what he wants.

I’ll be damned sure to bring it up on appeal, though, if it leads to Noah’s conviction.

“Well, he hung out with Caden Everton all the time, of course,” Mike says. “But I always felt he had a special sort of relationship with Marion. She used to pay for his things in school, cause he couldn’t afford them himself.”

I glance at Noah, whose face is burning. How humiliating this must be for him—to act like he was some kind of leech sucking away at our family. Mike keeps going.

“And I always thought he had a thing for older women, you know,” he says.

“Objection!” I cry. “Relevance.” Surely even Judge Warner has to uphold this one—what evidence does Mike even have of this supposed “thing”?

“Overruled,” the judge says.

This is unreal. Unprecedented. I have never been before a judge so obviously biased. I try not to let my outrage show.

“Why would you think that?” Wilbur asks.

“When we were younger, he always had crushes on olderactresses, not the popular ones most of us guys were hanging pictures of in our lockers. And he followed Marion around a lot—he would look at her with those sort of puppy dog eyes, you know? I always felt it was more than just because she was his best friend’s mom. It weirded me out.”

“Thank you,” Wilbur says. “No further questions.”

I’m on my feet like a shot. “Mr. Cochran,” I say, “before her death, when was the last time you had a conversation with my mother?”

Mike shifts in his chair. “I mean, I saw her around town that summer.”

“That is not what I asked. Before she was murdered, when was the last time you spoke with Marion Everton?”

“I, uh…”

“The day before her murder?”

“Well, no.”

“Two days before?”

“No.

“A week?”

Mike’s face turns blotchy. “I don’t remember.”

“Could that be because you have never had a conversation with my mother?”

“She came into my dad’s shop to rent a kayak once,” he says defiantly.

“Ah,” I say. “And when was that?”

Mike clears his throat. “I don’t know. A while ago.”

“A while ago,” I say dryly. “It’s been five years since my mother’s death, so I’m going to go out on a limb and say a “while” was quite some time.”

“Objection,” Wilbur says. “Is there a question in there somewhere?”

I move on quickly before the judge can sustain. “And during thisoneinteraction you had with my mother, while she wasrenting a kayak at your father’s shop awhileago, did she mention Noah Patterson?”

Mike blinks. “Uh, no, I don’t think so.”

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