Page 14 of Defend Me

“Thanks,” I croak. My voice is raspy from lack of use and I feel clumsy holding it with my hands linked together.

“Get inside,” Von says in a clipped tone. Her eyes dart to the handcuffs and her nostrils flare.

We enter the cool marble foyer, and I gulp at the coffee, the caffeine an instantaneous relief. The courthouse is an old relicfrom the late 1800s. Our footsteps echo as we walk toward the security guards, Ben and Letitia. I’ve known them for years. Ben is just a kid, younger than me, and he looks like he doesn’t know what to with himself. Like I’m suddenly a stranger to him. Letitia is in her fifties, ex-military, with close cropped black hair and a strong build. I’m grateful when I see a flash of sympathy in her eyes.

Von plops her briefcase on the table and Letitia runs the wand over her. Ben does the same with me, still seemingly unable to make eye contact.

“You okay?” Letitia asks me quietly.

“I’ve definitely been better.”

She grimaces. “You’re all set,” she says, stepping aside. “Courtroom three.”

There are only four courtrooms total in this building. Three is the largest.

My heart starts to thud an urgent, heavy beat in my chest. I polish off my coffee and toss it in a nearby bin. Von and I head down the hall toward the courtrooms.

“When we go in, the judge is going to read the charges against you,” she says. “Then the prosecutor will give a statement of the facts that support the charges, and you will enter a plea.”

“I know how arraignments work,” I say, unable to keep the bite out of my tone.

“Don’t get snippy, I do this with all my clients. You will say ‘not guilty’ and those are the only two words you will speak. You will not look at anyone except for me or the judge. Keep your expression as neutral as possible. There will be cameras everywhere.”

“Yeah, no shit,” I grumble. I feel like my skin is itching from the inside out. Being snippy with Von is the only thing keeping me from breaking apart. We can hear the doors to the courthouse being opened behind us along with the swell of voices as the reporters enter the foyer.

Then I hear a voice that almost brings me to my knees.

“Noah!”

I turn and see Pop, hurrying through security and toward me. Caden and Isla are just behind him. The swarm of reporters fills the security area and cameras click-click-click as Pop crashes into me, enveloping me in a bear hug. He smells like wool and Old Spice, and I wish I could hug him back. I have to blink away the tears in my eyes. I don’t know how the press will interpret anything. Von is right—I’ve got to keep my expression neutral.

“Oh, my boy,” Pop says. He releases me and wipes his eyes. “You look tired. Why did they put you in handcuffs? That’s not right.”

Before I can answer, Isla throws her arms around me. “We believe in you,” she whispers in my ear.

I cannot express how badly I needed to hear that. My throat is so swollen, it would hurt to speak. It was only a day and a half, but right now, it’s felt like years that I was in that jail cell. I keep staring at Pop, his wild gray hair, his rumpled khakis, his bifocals hanging from a chain around his neck.

“Noah can’t go into the courtroom crying,” Von says.

“I’m not crying,” I snap, my anger only slightly undercut by the way my voice trembles. Pop puts a calming hand on my shoulder.

“Take a breath,” he says. “This is all going to work out. Siobhan is an excellent lawyer.”

“Thank you, Mr. Patterson,” Von says, then glances around. “Where’s the rest of the family?” she asks Caden.

Suddenly, there’s an eruption of clicking and shouting from the entryway and I see the Everton siblings arrive. Letitia lets them through. I scan their faces. Daisy gives me a worried smile. Finn looks as slick and polished as always. Alistair keeps glancing back at the throng of reporters.

“Where’s Dad?” Von says as they walk up to us.

“On a call,” Alistair says.

“He needs to be here,” Von hisses.

“Don’t worry, he’s coming,” Finn says. “He knows the optics. A united front.”

Pop and I exchange a look. We love the Evertons, but man, they are not like most families.

Alistair shoots me an encouraging grin. “How’re you feeling?”

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