Page 36 of Craving Venom

“So why isn’t Christopher Valehart here today, testifying on behalf of his son?”

“Christopher is a grieving—”

“Grieving. That’s one way to put it.” She turns toward the jury, spreading her hands. “Christopher Valehart has taken on over twenty-eight thousand cases in the last two decades. Of those, he brought two hundred eighteen to trial and won every single one. Every. Single. One.”

“This is the man who once defended a client accused of fourteen murders. There was DNA evidence tying that client to the crime scenes, fingerprints, and even multiple eyewitnesses. And yet, Christopher Valehart managed to win that case. He’s decorated, celebrated, practically untouchable in the courtroom. But he couldn’t be here today. For his own son. Isn’t that a little shocking, Mr. VonKrauss?”

Yvette leaps to her feet. “Objection, Your Honor. The prosecutor is editorializing and attempting to sway the jury with irrelevant details.”

The judge nods. “Sustained. Ms. Loeser, please stick to the facts.”

“Let me rephrase. Mr. VonKrauss, wouldn’t you agree it’s odd that Christopher Valehart, a man known for his unmatched dedication to his clients, couldn’t find time to defend his own child?”

“Christopher… has always had a complicated relationship with Zane. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t support him.”

“Doesn’t support him? Or can’t bring himself to look Zane Valehart in the eye while he sits in this courtroom, pleading not guilty to the deaths of his wife and son?”

Yvette slams her hand on the table. “Objection, Your Honor! Speculative and inflammatory!”

The judge nods again. “Sustained. The jury will disregard that statement.”

Carrie lets a small, satisfied smile play on her lips as she turns back to the judge. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

I’m about to close the screen when my phone buzzes on the bed next to me. My heart jumps, stupidly, and I grab it so fast I almost drop it. But the excitement fizzles out just as quickly as it came.

It’s not Zane.

It’s an email.

From Dr. Harrington.

My eyes scan the subject line: Project Approval Reminder. I try to push away the disappointment as I open the email.

Apparently, the ethics board still has issues with my proposal, and if I don’t fix it and resubmit by midnight, it’ll get delayed again.

“Fuck.” I toss the phone onto the bed. Of course, I forgot. Between this trial and Zane’s ridiculous radio silence, it’s a miracle I remember my own name, let alone deadlines.

My eyes turn to the laptop in front of me, still open to the trial feed. Zane’s face is frozen on the screen.

The idea hits me all at once. I sit up straighter, setting the wine glass on my nightstand and clicking over to my project folder. Psychological Case Studies. The cursor blinks at me, almost daring me to type.

Zane Valehart.

It’s not just an idea, it’s the idea. The perfect one. He’s everything this class is about: deviant psychology, moral dissonance, environmental influence. He’s the perfect case study. The only problem?

He’s not returning my messages.

My brain starts arguing with itself, the way it always does when I’m about to do something that’s probably a bad idea.

This is insane. You don’t have enough access to him.

But what if I can get it?

He’s ignoring you.

So? I like a challenge.

I type his name into the document anyway. The second it’s written, I pause and read it over, biting the inside of my cheek. The title alone feels like I’m biting off more than I can chew. Zane isn’t exactly the open-book type, and without his cooperation, I don’t have a lot to go on that isn’t public knowledge. The court records, the interviews, the media circus, they’re a starting point, sure, but they’re shallow. Surface-level. And if there’s one thing I hate, it’s shallow work.

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