Only problem was, I was only half that monster.
Brad continued, “Now that we’ve heard the evidence, I want to hear your version of events because it’s not as black and white as the prosecution suggests.”
I swallowed again, preparing to be honest about my life for the first time. When Brad had walked me through how things were going to go and what he expected me to say, I’d been against it. Why did they need to know my past? What did my high-school years have to do with now? But he’d insisted and...I’d agreed.
Scanning the sea of angry, judging faces, I did my best to stay unaffected. To deliver what was needed and accept the consequences.
O.
I froze.
I did a double take.
Olin Moss sat in the middle of the audience.
My gaze snagged with hers.
I locked in place and was owned entirely by her.
Fuck, seeing her here.
What...what is she doing here?
She bit her lip, her eyes wide and worried. How long had she sat there, obscured by the crowd? Why had she come?
She shouldn’t be here supporting me. I’d set her free, goddammit.
“Mr. Clark? Can you inform the court who Jeffrey Clark was and why you killed him?”
A murmur went around the silent jury, tearing my gaze from O’s. I had so much to admit. Why had it been easier confessing to total strangers than it did to someone I loved?
My eyes sought hers again, and I found strength that I should’ve found years ago.
She was here.
She hadn’t left me.
Fuck, I loved her.
Sitting taller, I balled my hands and prepared to answer.
To admit...everything.
“Jeffrey Clark was my father’s brother. I’d never met him until a few years ago. He came looking for me when my father died.”
“Your father who died of alcohol poisoning and raised you in a whore house?”
I didn’t flinch. “Yes.”
“And Jeffrey gained your trust?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Why did he go out of his way to make you trust him if his sole intention was to kill women?”
“At the time, I thought it was because he was family. I didn’t know he was a psychopath who killed my father’s whores. I didn’t know who he truly was and wanted to believe not all my family was bad.”
“But what he told you turned out to be a lie, correct?”
“Not everything. He said he was a car painter and detailer—that was true. He said he shared my drive to create art—that was also true. But everything else was just a ploy to take my money—money I only started earning because of his tutoring and pushing me into a business idea that I would never have had on my own.”
“And what business was that?”
I avoided looking at O, feeling suddenly seedy. “Painting mostly naked women for large advertising campaigns.”
“Why didn’t Jeffrey just do that himself?”
I shrugged. “Not sure. He had the talent to do it. He painted the fourth girl, after all.”
An electrified murmur shot around the court. Brad held up his hand for quiet, continuing his line of questioning.
I added before he could speak, “When my business became successful, he wanted what I had. What he didn’t realise was I would’ve shared it all with him. I was unbelievably grateful for his guidance. He didn’t have to take it by force.”
“How did Jeffrey Clark take it by force, even when you ran out of income?”
“He kidnapped my daughter and blackmailed me.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“Because I didn’t want them to know Olive’s origins.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t want them tracking down her birth mother and forcing me to give up custody.”
O flinched. But she never looked away. Never left me hanging or alone.
Brad consulted his notes for a second, asking, “The mother of your child is called Jane Tallup, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And who is Jane Tallup to you?”
“Your honour, what is the point in dragging up the past?” The prosecution’s lawyer interrupted. “This isn’t relevant to the case.”
“I beg to differ, your honour. It has everything to do with the case.” Brad scowled.
The female judge peered at both lawyers then me before finally nodding, “Carry on, Mr. Clark.”
I cleared my throat. “Jane Tallup was my teacher at high-school.”
“And she’s the mother of your daughter.”
I nodded again, annoyed at his repetitive question but aware of why he did it. To add more power to the punch line.
The court moved restlessly, no doubt thinking I’d forced myself onto her.
That I was a rapist as well as a killer.
Brad paused, then said, “She raped you when you were a teenager, correct? She alienated you from your friends, forbid you contact with the girl you were in love with, and molested you.”
I curled my hands. “I was a stupid kid who should’ve spoken out but didn’t.”
“That sounds like you’re blaming yourself for what happened.”
“I’m blaming myself for the consequences of not telling people when I had the chance.”
“Hurry it along,” the judge muttered. “Get to the point.”
The jury shifted on their chairs, their attention fully on me. My eyes stayed on O’s hazel ones, safe as long as I just focused on her. I wanted to do this. I needed to be honest. To finally purge the rot inside me, to eradicate the poison I’d carried alone for so long, but it didn’t mean it was easy.
My life was full of regrets.
Today would not be one of them.
“So, not only were you raped in your youth, but your teacher—an adult in a position of power—stripped you of safety and dumped a baby on you...all because she didn’t want it?”
I nodded but then shook my head, unable to let Olive be talked about as if she wasn’t wanted. “Olive might not have been wanted by her mother, and I might have been a vulnerable son of a bitch, but the moment I held her, I knew I loved her. She was wanted by me with all my heart, I just didn’t know it until I met her.”
My lawyer strolled calmly around the courtroom, nodding as if what I said made perfect sense. “Once you met your daughter, you left your home and family behind.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t want anything to jeopardise Olive’s future. My father wasn’t a good role model; my family environment was abusive and unstructured. The only good thing in my life was my girlfriend who I’d hurt when I’d tried to do the right thing by breaking up with her. I was prepared to walk away so Olive had things I never did. Safety and good food and a father who cared about her.”
“Very noble,” the prosecution lawyer muttered.
I glared at him. “I just did what any father would do.”
“Not every father.” Brad pinned me to the chair. “Tell the court what happened the night you confronted Jeffrey with Olin Moss as his next victim.”
A rise of energy swept around the jury as I admitted, “He shot me in the back, leaving me for dead.”
“So your uncle tries to kill you and your father regularly used you as a punching bag.” Brad peered at the jury. “I’d say family hasn’t been kind to you, yet you did everything humanly possible to protect and claim back your daughter.”