Page 33 of Mistletoe and Malice
“Why did you take that case? I thought Caitlyn Mulaney was your friend.”
She glanced at her father, then her mother sitting with her head down. She understood why that would be hard to comprehend and was all too aware of the problems her decision had already caused her family.
The Mulaneys had been long-time friends, but the judge wasted no time letting her father know his opinion on the matter. A day later, Priscilla Mulaney uninvited Mom to a Christmas tea at their home the week after Thanksgiving—a tea her mother had been attending for over a decade. And Caitlyn’s sister hadn’t spoken to Alex’s wife Delia since the newsconference about Riley taking over Shane’s case almost two weeks ago.
All three situations were painful and disconcerting, but her family, to a person, had encouraged her to be true to her convictions.
Her gaze went back to Colton. “I was never convinced the cops got it right. And that was before I sat through every day of the trial. There were … a lot of holes. Yes, Caitlyn was my friend. That’s why I want to be sure the right person pays for what he did. I don’t believe that person is Shane Everett.”
Those cool blue eyes considered her for a long, silent moment. “Were you ever involved with Everett?”
She pulled her head back. “What? No. Of course not. I didn’t meet him until after he and Caitlyn started dating. About three months before her death. And was never alone with him until I interviewed him at the prison last month. Why would you ask that?”
“One of the phantom posts was a photo of the two of you. Let’s just say it was a little more than friendly.”
Her face heated. “Show me.”
With a wince, he pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and brought up a screenshot of the post from the now-deleted page.
Her skin crawled as she scrutinized it. “That’s Cait. It looks like me, but that’s definitely Cait.” She put her hand on her stomach, where the breakfast she’d been so enjoying now stirred violently. “That’s really sick.”
“Agreed.”
“What else was posted on there that I may have to answer for?”
Her father sat back and crossed his arms across his stomach, drawing her attention.
“What? Was it about you? The family?”
He shook his head. “Remember when we let Arman Fletcher go a year or so ago?”
“Of course. Major stink.”
“Somehow, this … person pulled up that old photo of Arman with one of our interns. The one that broke the camel’s back after she posted it.”
“Don’t tell me. He doctored it to look like me.”
Mom’s eyes widened. “That sounds very tech-savvy. To clone someone’s page and doctor images?”
Colton nodded. “It does take some tech know-how. I don’t think your average user could make images that credible to the general public. Our techs know what to look for to determine authenticity, but most people would take it at face value, unfortunately.”
Dad sat up and folded his arms on the table. “Hopefully, anybody who might’ve seen it will remember he was fired due to his indiscretions with that intern. That it had nothing to do with you.”
Yesterday’s phone call made sense now. She hadn’t recognized the voice—obviously altered—but the message appeared a bit more focused.
“I told you,”the man had hissed on the other end of the line.“Your confidence is actually your weakness, Miss Hudson, misplaced as it is. I’m trying to keep you from making a big mistake. One there’s no coming back from. How much is your reputation worth to you?”
He’d hung up before she could come up with any words, but it had left her stunned and confused.
A mistake there was no coming back from? Did he mean the loss of her career? The loss of her credibility?
Or something even worse?
“I want to see those cards.” Colton studied her with that furrow in his forehead that told her he saw more than she wanted him to. “Is there anything else I should know?”
She swallowed hard. “Um, well, he … he called. Yesterday at the office.”
Gramps’ mouth gaped open. “You actually spoke to this person?”
