Page 58 of Defend Me

I stalk to the cabinets and grab a mug. He’s already made coffee.

“Why are you making that face?” I ask, pouring myself a cup.

Noah glances down at his phone. “Everly Harris wrote another article about me. She interviewed an ex-girlfriend of mine who says I was quote “obsessed” with your family. Everly claims that the fact that I’ve fled town means that I’m guilty. Never mind she’s basically the reason we had to leave in the first place.”

I clench my jaw. Everly Harris is a dagger in our sides, and I fear she’s only going to get worse as the trial date approaches.

“Forget about her,” I say. “We’ve got work to do.”

“She talks about you too,” he says.

I wave him off. “I’ve been written up in papers since I was, like, fifteen. Whatever she brings, I can handle it.”

“Right,” he says. But his brows furrow and his jaw clenches as he reads the article again. I’ve got to talk to Alistair. He needs to do more to stop these attacks on Noah. I wonder if we could file a cease-and-desist order. Noah is finally going back to Magnolia Bay, the place he loves more than any other in the world, and he looks like he’s attending his own funeral.

Suddenly, I get a flash of inspiration. As Noah is focused on his phone, I take my coffee out onto the terrace. It still feels like summer, the September sun beating down on the streets below. I take out my phone and call Daisy.

“Hi Von!” she chirps. “How’re things going?”

“Fine,” I tell her. “Noah and I are coming back to Magnolia Bay today for a few hours.”

She gasps. “Oh yay!”

“We have a meeting this morning, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“Sure,” she gushes. “Anything.”

As I tell her what my plan is, she squeals so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear. “That’s a great idea, Von. Wow. I bet Noah will really appreciate it. I’m on it, don’t worry. I’ll talk to Caden now!”

I finish my coffee as my phone pings again, letting me know my car service is downstairs. Benito opens the door for us with a jovial wave and we ride to the Seaport and get in the helicopter. Noah’s leg jiggles the entire ride, to the point that I have to put my hand on his knee to stop him from driving me mental.

He grimaces. “Sorry. I’m a little nervous.”

“Yeah, I caught that.”

“I just hope there’s something Stan tells us we can use,” he says.

“I know,” I say. “But we won’t know until we get there.”

“That’s very zen of you.”

“You know me,” I say. “In touch with my inner chi.”

That gets a nervous chuckle out of him. I realize my hand is still on his knee, the warmth of his skin seeping through the denim, and I quickly pull it away, looking out the window at Long Island Sound.

Deputy Derek is waiting for us at the helipad. He drives a minivan—Noah lets me sit in the front as he gets in the back next to a car seat.

“We appreciate your help,” I say to Derek as he starts the ignition. He shoots me a wary glance, like he can’t tell if I’m being sincere.

“No problem.” He meets Noah’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “I don’t think you had anything to do with Marion’s murder.”

Noah flashes him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Derek.”

“Wilbur Jenkins has been talking to everyone in town, setting up all these “interviews”,” Derek says, using air quotes. “It’s obvious he’s trying to find dirt on you. Asked me if you’d ever shown up late to work, ever been written up—he even tried to imply you were incompetent and only got the job because of your connection with the Evertons.”

“Those are normal tactics that every prosecutor uses,” I say.

“In our experience,” Noah says, “the defense usually puts the victim on trial.”

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