“I’m sorry, too,” I whisper to him. “There are no words to convey how terrible I feel.”
“Don’t.” His brows pinch in the middle, and it’s a vexingly sexy look on him. Everett can’t help it. He’s sexy if he does, sexy if he doesn’t. It’s his good-looking cross to bear. “At the end of the day, I accept full responsibility.”
“Don’t say that in court,” a female voice chirps, and we turn to see his wise counsel, Fiona Dagmeyer, looking sharp as the dagger she is in a navy pantsuit, her dark hair pulled tightly into a bun and a swath of red lipstick. Fiona is as gorgeous as she is dangerous. And her track record in the courtroom is impeccable. “Essex, you look ready and willing to get this over with.” She frowns. “I realize it goes against your nature, but try to look affable to the jury.” She glances at the baby. “Good. I see you took my advice and brought the most potent weapon in our arsenal. Lottie, you’re to sit directly behind your husband. Weep silently, give the jury forlorn looks once every ten minutes, and be sure to latch eyes at least once with all of them before the day is through. This is a one-shot deal. We have one day to save your husband from a prison sentence that could cut him out of your life for years—and will forever end his career. Everything is riding on this. Every look you give, every move you make, can cost your husband everything. Don’t ruin this.” She looks to Everett. “You either. Now get inside.”
She takes off ahead of us, and soon it’s just Everett, Lyla Nell, and me standing in the hall.
“Lemon.” Everett bores those blue eyes of his into mine, the exact color of the deep end of the ocean. He warms my back with his hands as his lips curve toward the ceiling. “I love you.”
“I know.” I press a kiss to his lips and linger. “I love you, too.”
He takes a deep breath, his gaze still penetrating mine. “Let’s do this.”
“And if I say no?”
“Sometimes in life we have no choice,” he says. “Things are out of my hands, and I have to accept my fate.”
I shake my head. “If I don’t like it, I won’t accept it.”
Lyla Nell reaches her tiny hand his way and he takes it and presses a kiss to it, eliciting a husky gurgle of a laugh from her, still no smile. She certainly is serious. And I suppose these are serious times.
Everett leads us into the grand courtroom, comprised entirely of dark mahogany and creamy marble.
Everett walks me to my seat, right between Noah and my mother, before taking his place next to Fiona.
Noah takes up my hand and gives it a squeeze just as the bailiff asks us to rise for the honorable Judge Macalister.
We do just that, and Judge Macalister steps in, a tall beefy man with white hair and dark-framed glasses. He offers Everett a solemn nod and a tired smile to go along with it.
I’m sure they’re friends. What an awkward position for the both of them to be in. What a horrible position I’ve put everyone in this courtroom in.
The jurors file in, seven women and five men. All of them feast their eyes on Everett, and I can tell by the way a few of them nod that they’re already familiar with this case. It would be hard not to be. We made all of the headlines a few months back.
The judge greets the jury. “The People of Vermont against Essex Everett Baxter.” He nods to the jury before introducing Fiona and the DA. Opening statements come and go in a blur.
The district attorney, a man by the name of Dan Mitchel opens, with the fact he has all the evidence the jury will need. He lets them know it’s an open-and-shut case.
Fiona asks the jury not to form any opinions until they’ve heard all the facts. She tells them that she has confidence they will exonerate the good judge and this entire nightmare will be behind him soon.
The DA calls the coroner, a man by the name of Seymour Schwartz, to the stand and quickly pulls out of him the state in which he found the morgue.
“It was a mess.” The coroner is an older gentleman, pudgy cheeks and balding.
“A few of my workstations had been knocked over, and there was a puddle of condensation found near the opened refrigeration unit. That’s initially what tipped me off that something was afoot. I opened the drawer in which Ms. Canelli was supposed to be in and found it empty.”
“What did you do then?” the DA asks.
“I called the sheriff’s department. They came out right away. And that was it.”
“Did you check the security footage to see what may have happened?”
“Initially, I thought the camera was off. The security system had become disabled by whoever did this. But as it turns out, a few days later I remembered I had one of those nanny cams running.”
“And what did you find on that nanny cam, Mr. Schwartz?”
“I saw a face. It was clear as day. I didn’t know who it was, but I turned it over to the sheriff’s department right away. And a couple of days later, I saw that they arrested both Detective Fox and Judge Baxter. I’ll admit, I know Detective Fox, so I was stymied by what was happening.”
The DA picks up a remote and points it at a large screen TV set near the jury box, and soon we’re treated to that nanny cam footage. There he is, Everett, with the body of Angel Face Florenza Canelli slung over his back. Everett looks fiercely into the camera as if he were posing.
“Mr. Schwartz, can you please point out that man in this courtroom today?”
“I can,” he says. “He’s seated right over there.” He points directly at Everett, and it feels like certain doom.
“Thank you,” Mr. Mitchell says to the man. “That’s all I need.”
Fiona gives a rather weak cross-examination that doesn’t seem to do a single thing for Everett’s case. In fact, it almost feels like a formality.
The DA is up again. He calls Noah to the stand and he’s quickly sworn in.
“Detective Fox, I understand you were once the stepbrother of the defendant. How did that stint work out for the two of you?”
Noah shrugs. “As well as it could have gone considering we were two young men with big egos.”
“Is it true that you are both vying for the hand of the very same woman? And that recently she gave birth to a child in which the paternity has yet to be determined?”
Noah glances my way. “Yes, that is true.”
Lyla Nell perks up and looks from me to the stand where Noah sits and she vocalizes something that sounds like why why?
A titter of laughter circles the room before the DA looks back at Noah.
“And would you say that Judge Baxter wanted you out of the picture when it comes to this woman, romantically, of course.”
Noah takes a moment to look over at Everett, then me.
“Maybe. I don’t know. But I know that Everett wouldn’t have planted a dead body in my yard to pin something like that on me. At least not while he was in a clear state of mind.”
“Would you classify your feud with your old stepbrother as bitter?”
Noah’s lips twist. “Yes.”
“Would you say this feud was volatile at times?”
“No.”
“Have you ever come to blows with one another over the woman who is now Judge Baxter’s wife?”
How I hate that our dirty laundry is being aired for all to see—yet again.