Page 91 of Defend Me

Grayson stands. “I’ll have Alex help me.”

He heads out the door and I start pacing around the room.

“Why would he frame me?” I ask. “I’ve never done anything to him. I idolized him, for fuck’s sake.”

“Noah, slow down,” Von says.

“Slow down? He’s out to get me, Von.”

“Listen to me,” she says slowly, putting her hand on my chest. My heart races, my adrenaline pumping. “As your girlfriend, yes I agree, this does make the sheriff look guilty. But as your lawyer, I can tell you this is not even close to enough evidence to prove it. And I deal in facts, not feelings. But this logbook just created a lot more reasonable doubt. And that’s a good thing for our defense.”

I pause, momentarily stunned, my brain caught on one word. “Girlfriend?”

She flushes. “Well, yeah. I mean…what would you call me?”

“Definitely girlfriend,” I say quickly because honestly, I hadn’t really thought about it. Von and girlfriend seem like two words that have never gone together. Plus, no one is allowed to know about us, which doesn’t seem very relationship-y.

But do IwantVon to be my girlfriend? Hell yes I do. Even if we’re the only two people who know.

“This is what we’re going to do,” she says, cracking her knuckles. “You’re going to look into the sheriff. Check his social media. Check Mom’s too. See if there’s anything that might hint to him obsessing over her. I can pull her phone records. Maybe he sent Mom texts as well as those letters or called her more than usual orsomething. But I still have witnesses to interview—it’s more important right now to find someone else besides Patrick who can put you away from the scene of the crime that morning.”

God, she’s so sexy when she goes into full lawyer mode.

“Okay,” I say. “I’m on it.”

Von heads out to Magnolia’s Petals to interview Joni Lewis, and I spend the rest of the day in the guesthouse, looking through the sheriff’s Facebook page.

It’s the only personal social media account he has—no Instagram and definitely no TikTok. I go back to a few years before the murder. There are pictures of him with Marion, but never just the two of them. It’s usually at the annual Everton Christmas party, or at one of the booths on Magnolia Day, or at the Fourth of July fireworks celebrations on the green. There are also photographs of him with Wilbur Jenkins and Judge Warner, at various fundraisers for the department or other legal-type events, increasing my suspicions that the sheriff is pressuring them for my speedy conviction. I even check Cody’s social media to see if he may have posted something of value, some background image with his dad and Von’s mom, but Cody’s Instagram is almost exclusively focused on cars. Marion’s social media is a bust too—it’s all very carefully curated, mostly supportive announcements about town events or family photos.

I decide to try and do a deeper dive into Judge Warner. I wonder if maybe the sheriff has something on him, something that he can use to tilt the scales in the prosecution’s favor. The judge seems to have a fondness for brandy and cigars, which makes him pretty cliché but not criminal. He donates to Catholic charities. I see one photo of him and the sheriff and a priest, all smiling on the steps of a large, stone church.

Great day to support Father Simmons and the St. Catherine’s soup kitchen!the post declares.

There’s a faint knock on my door and I look up. It’s past midnight. I can lose myself when I go down a rabbit hole like this.Penny is sleeping peacefully on a blanket by the fireplace. I walk over and open the door.

“Hi,” Von says, slipping inside.

“Hey,” I say, closing the door behind her. She’s wearing a pair of soft gray sweatpants and Ugg boots, along with a puffy coat. She looks so cozy.

“Find anything?” she asks.

“No,” I sigh, sinking down on the couch. She unzips her jacket and takes it off. She’s wearing an oversize, off the shoulder sweater, tantalizingly soft and thin. She sits next to me, peering at the screen and resting her chin on my shoulder.

“So the sheriff and the judge give to Catholic charities?” she says.

“Yup,” I say. “I can’t find anything that shows any sort of unusual relationship with your mom yet. I’ll keep looking. How did the interviews go today?”

“Feels like this whole town was asleep that morning,” she grumbles. “And the rare people who weren’t aren’t helpful.”

“It was a pretty wild night,” I point out. “Makes sense for folks to have slept in.”

“You didn’t.”

“Yeah. But I’m weird.”

She chuckles and rubs her eyes. I love Von without makeup. I love her soft and exposed. Her hair tumbles over one shoulder and my eyes snag on the curve of her collarbone where it peeks out from beneath her sweater. She tilts her head up to look at me from beneath thick lashes. Her warm pink mouth curves into a smirk.

“Are you checking me out, Patterson?”

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