“With all due respect,” Ms. Aronson says, “I appreciate what you’re trying here, but I have serious reservations about letting Mr. Evans off so easily after what he did two weeks ago. No one is denying he drove with a suspended license, are they?” She looks to the sea of Wallingford uniforms, but each cadet remains still. We can’t deny what he’s already admitted.
“I’d be willing to drop it to ninety days of jail time after graduation,” she continues. “Along with the twenty-five-hundred-dollar fine.”
I can’t believe it. Even after everything I’ve done, and Alex has done, it still might not be enough.
Mr. Needleham checks his watch once more before whispering something in Logan’s ear. Logan stares straight ahead for a moment before slowly nodding. Mr. Needleham says, “May I call one more witness to the stand?”
The judge reluctantly agrees, and then Lora Mitchell shuffles her way to the seat I was just occupying. It’s the blond girl Logan focused on a few minutes ago. My earlier hatred for the prosecutor pales in comparison to what I’m feeling right now. Lora needs to fix this. She’s the only one who can.
She keeps her eyes down the entire way, even while being sworn in.
“Please state your name for the court.”
“Lora Mitchell,” she whispers.
“A little louder, please.”
She clears her throat and repeats herself.
“What’s your relationship to Mr. Evans?”
“F-friend.”
“What about at the time of the accident? What was your relationship then?”
“Girlfriend.”
“In all the time you’ve known Mr. Evans, had he ever gotten into a car accident before the night in question?”
She shakes her head.
“Had he ever used marijuana?”
She shakes her head again.
“You must have been surprised when you heard of the accident, then.”
She nods.
“What was your first thought after you heard?”
“I—I hoped everyone was okay.”
My Needleham fiddles with his watch as he glances toward the door. After a moment, he says, “When did he tell you about the accident? That night? The next day?”
“Um … I’m not sure. That night, I think.”
“How did he tell you? In person? Phone call? Text?”
“Um … t—actually in person, I think.”
“Do you remember what time it was?”
She gulps and licks her lips. “It was late. Maybe three or four in the morning.”
“Okay, I’m just trying to get the timeline straight,” he says slowly. “The accident occurred at eleven thirty-four. His abandoned car was found at”—he checks a piece of paper in his hands—“eleven fifty-two. At twelve ten, police went to his home, but he wasn’t there. At two thirty, he returned home and was arrested. Then you’re claiming h—”
“Is there a point to this?” the judge asks.
“Yes, I—”
Just then, the door opens again and a younger man in a suit along with a sweaty teenager in ripped jeans and a hooded sweatshirt rush through. The man is holding a small manila envelope.
“What now?” the judge asks as they go straight to Mr. Needleham.
“Give me one more minute, please,” he says with a smile.
The two newcomers huddle around Mr. Needleham and Logan. The teenager is animated and whatever he says causes Logan’s whole body to relax.
The guy in a suit sits next to Mr. Needleham while the teenager comes back to the benches. He squeezes past me and practically plops himself on my cover. I glare at him as I draw it onto my lap.
He says, “I can’t believe you’re here, Paige. I’ll bet you ten bucks he’s already forgiven you.”
I give him another glare. It’s not appropriate to be talking in a courtroom. Plus, how does he know who I am? But does he really think Logan’s forgiven me? He won’t hate me forever? I want to ask him about it, but I bite my tongue. I will not be as disrespectful as he is.
“I have no further questions for the witness,” Mr. Needleham says.
“Ms. Aronson?” the judge asks.
She shakes her head.
As soon as Lora clears the gate, Mr. Needleham holds up the manila envelope. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, Your Honor, but this envelope contains exculpatory evidence for Mr. Evans. It clearly proves he could not have been the driver of his vehicle at the time of the accident.”
Ms. Aronson throws her hands up. “He confessed!”
“He was coerced.”
“In my chambers, both of you.”
The lawyers stand and follow the judge through a door at the back of the courtroom. It’s initially silent; then everyone starts murmuring at once.
“What’s in the envelope?” I ask the guy next to me.
“A flash drive showing my live stream of Overwatch the night of the accident. I focused the webcam on Logan a few times. The ladies like when I include him. Anyway, it shows him playing both right before and after the time of the accident.”
“What’s Overwatch?”
His mouth drops open. “Do you live in a cave or something? Overwatch is only the best hero shooter game out there.”
“A video game?”
“Yeah.
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah. Why?”
It’s truly laughable. Video games, the biggest waste of time there is, might save him? It almost makes me think I should reconsider my stance on video games. Almost.
“I’m Paige,” I say, holding out my hand. He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Yeah, I know.”
This guy has got the manners of a cockroach. “And you are?”
“Gordy.”
Oh. “Logan’s best friend,” I say.
“Yeah. So I know all about you. He gave met the full rundown on our way back from Wallingford. You need to loosen up.”
“You need to gain some manners,” I mutter.
With a grin, he says, “We’re going to get along great.” Then he puts his sweaty arm over my shoulder. A perfectly placed squeeze at his elbow makes him rethink his decision. He winces, then laughs. “You’ll be a lot more fun to have around than Lora.”
CHAPTER 32
LOGAN
Five minutes.
They’ve already been in the judge’s chambers for five freaking minutes. What’s taking them so long? Mr. Needleham said the evidence was foolproof. If it were foolproof, wouldn’t they be done already?
I stare at the tabletop, wringing my hands together. Every couple of minutes, I have to wipe my sweaty palms on my khakis.
I’m still shocked Mr. Needleham was able to find evidence. Apparently a junior lawyer from his firm worked with Gordy to get video footage from Twitch, the online streaming service Gordy is convinced is his path to fame. I’m not sure who came up with the idea—Mr. Needleham, the junior lawyer, or Gordy—but I’m impressed. It never crossed my mind.
Still, I wasn’t going to use the evidence if I got a good plea bargain. As long as my punishment was limited to something reasonable, I was willing to continue covering for Lora. Jail, not so much. She’s going to kill me. I glance behind me, and she looks even more nervous than I feel.