Page 96 of Defend Me

“Ms. Everton, over here!”

“Noah, did you kill Marion?”

“Why’d you do it, Noah?”

“Von, any comment? How are you feeling about the trial?”

I keep my head down, expecting to plow through them, but to my surprise, Von turns and faces them down.

“Noah Patterson is innocent of these charges,” she declares as a hush falls over the reporters. I see Everly Harris pushing her way to the front. “We intend to prove this well beyond a reasonable doubt.”

“What do you say to the rumors that a key defense witness is no longer available to testify?” Everly calls.

I glance at Von, whose face reveals nothing. I quickly try to hide my panic. How the hell did Everly know about Patrick?

“I don’t know where you’re getting your information,” Von says. “But the defense is well prepared to go to trial.”

She turns on her heel and stalks up the steps and into the courthouse.

“I’m tired of that horrible woman,” Von growls.

“How could she know about?—”

Von silences me before I can finish that sentence. “I don’t know and I can’t prove what I suspect.”

But her glance confirms her thoughts are in line with mine. The sheriff must have tipped her off when he found out that Patrick died.

We go through security and head to the courtroom. Von pauses before opening the doors.

“Remember,” she says.

“Blank slate,” I say, before she can finish.

She gives me a tight grin. It feels like a different universe, all those months ago when we came to this courtroom for the arraignment. When we were a grudging partnership rather than the team we are today.

Von straightens my tie, gives me a nod, and opens the doors to the courtroom.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

VON

There’s nothing like the first day of a trial.

It’s almost like that first day of school feeling. The air seems to crackle around me, mixing with the scent of wood polish, as Noah and I walk down the aisle toward the defense table. Anticipation sets jitters in my stomach, every nerve ending alight, my mind working like a crisply run machine. I know this case inside and out. I was practicing my opening statement well into the night.

I’ve been hyper-focused since Patrick’s death. I’ve missed my nights with Noah so badly it’s like a permanent stomachache. But there’s too much at stake—I can’t risk Noah’s freedom by being taken off the case.

“Hey,” I say to Grayson, setting my briefcase on the table.

Grayson looks at Noah and whistles.

“Well, hello gorgeous,” he says. “Look at you, all clean shaven. Love the suit. Is that vicuna?”

“Um, it’s expensive,” Noah says, looking down at himself with a shrug. He really does look good—Gianni outdid himself. The material hugs his muscular frame, the color complimenting his skin. And without his beard, you can see the angular lines of his jaw and chin. The women on the jury aren’t going to be able to keep their eyes off him.

I glance at Wilbur, who’s setting up at the prosecution table. “I’ll be right back,” I say.

I walk over to him and he looks up, startled. “Ms. Everton,” he says.

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