Page 108 of Defend Me

“The defense asks for his statement to be stricken from the record,” Von adds.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Judge Warner says. “Sheriff, from now on, only testify to the facts, please.”

“Of course. My apologies, your honor,” the sheriff says.

Wilbur holds up the stalker’s typed protestations of love. “And these are the letters you took from Everton Estate that day, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

Wilbur projects the letters one by one up onto a screen. I can feel everyone in the gallery leaning forward to read them. This is sensational stuff, after all—love letters from a murderer. But I keep my eyes on the man in the witness box. If I’m right, the sheriff himself wrote those letters. I study his face, trying to find any trace of guilt or discomfort at having them read by a bunch of strangers. I try to imagine him actually writing them, his obsession growing day by day. It’s just so hard to picture. It flips everything I thought I knew about this man on its head.

The sheriff looks at each letter in turn as it’s presented with no discernible reaction.

“What did you think when you saw these?” Wilbur asks.

“I thought that Marion had a stalker and that this was the person who killed her.”

“Did you have any idea who this stalker might be?”

There’s the faintest thread of tension in the sheriff’s jaw, and he shifts almost imperceptibly in his chair. “Not at that time, no.”

“And did you come to have an opinion about the author of these letters later?”

“I did, yes.”

“And when was that?”

“When a bullet casing was found at the crime scene with Noah Patterson’s fingerprint on it,” the sheriff declares, like this is an episode of Perry Mason and he’s just revealed the real killer.

I see the jurors looking intrigued, glancing at me with suspicion. One leans forward in her chair, and another writes something down on his notepad. That damned shell casing.But the sheriff took my gun!I want to shout.

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

Von takes a moment, scribbling something on her notepad. The pause is noticeable. I bet this is a tactic. Make the sheriff wait. Finally, she looks up. “Sheriff, do you recall what you told my family on the morning of my mother’s murder?”

The sheriff looks at her sternly. “I said a lot of things that morning.”

“Do you recall telling us that this murder was committed by some random drifter, a thief motivated by greed?”

“That might have been a theory, yes.”

Von raises one slender eyebrow. “Mighthave been? Sheriff, I remind you, you are under oath. And I can bring up each of my siblings to testify as to what you said to us that morning.”

The sheriff clears his throat. “Yes, I did think robbery was the most likely motive at first.”

“And then you suspected my brother, Caden?”

“Only for a short period of time. Before he was alibied by Isla Davenport.”

“And then, as you say, the case went cold?”

“Yes.”

“You never suspected Noah at all?”

The sheriff purses his lips. “There was no reason to at that time.”

Von glances at the jury. “Right. There was no reason to.” Shestands and walks around the defense table then leans against it. “And once those letters were found, did you suspect him then?”

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