“Well, look here, the star witnesses have arrived. Happy Friday, my friend,” Kendrick said, patting Julian on the arm before turning to Mena. “Looking lovely as always, Mena. How are you?”
“Ready to get all of this over with,” Mena said, leaning into Julian’s arms.
“Star witnesses?” the woman asked, tilting her head toward Kendrick.
“These are my friends, Julian Montgomery and Mena Nix. They are also two of the D.A.’s witnesses in the Priscilla Dumay trial,” Kendrick explained to her, then made introductions. “This is Stella Young. She works at the courthouse.”
“As a court reporter … covering the trial of Priscilla Dumay,” Stella added with a sheepish, apologetic look.
“Nice to meet you, Stella,” Mena said, regarding the demure woman. She was petite and pretty, but in an almost forgettable way. Dressed in a conservative, plain tan suit that almost matched her skin tone, her only striking feature was the long column of straight, cinnamon brown hair that cascaded down her back.
“Guess we’ll be seeing a lot of you today. Are you ready for the trial of the year?” asked Julian.
“Never in a million years did I think anything this salacious would happen in St. Basil. Being assigned to the most high-profile case in our courts is surreal. I thought this kind of stuff only happened in St. Killian.” Stella said, taking a handkerchief out of her purse and dabbing it against her neck. “The Palmchat Gazette has people here, of course, but the number of international reporters covering the case is staggering. At least cameras won’t be allowed inside the courtroom.”
“I hadn’t even thought about reporters being inside, listening to my testimony,” Mena admitted.
Mena cringed at having to dodge intrepid reporters trying to get a soundbite for the evening news. The last thing she needed was for Michael to see her on television or read about her testimony in the news, although she supposed that was inevitable. Keeping him far away from Julian was her only priority until his conference ended and he went back to NYC.
Mena frowned and looked ahead, noticing for the first time that Kendrick and Julian had stepped away, onto the emerald manicured lawn. The conversation between them looked intense.
Stella noticed as well. “Looks like the boys don’t want us to hear what they’re saying. Want to get out of this heat?”
Mena gave another quick glance to Julian, then glanced down at the sweat stains starting to show through her shirt. “Let’s go. They’ll catch up with us later.”
“You know, when you think about it, the jury really has the toughest job in the trial. There are so many people who don’t believe the allegations against Priscilla Dumay,” Stella said.
Mena bristled at the islanders who’d given statements in the news supporting and defending Priscilla, refusing to believe she could do something as horrible as kidnap women and force them to be surrogates. Even with the mountain of evidence against Prissy, many on the island still revered her.
Stella continued, “It sounds too far-fetched and crazy. This is the woman who brought an internationally renowned gallery to the island, finally helping us to step out of the shadows of St. Killian and St. Cera. Was she really worse than the PC-5?” Stella fell into step next to Mena as they ascended the steps to the courthouse.
“Trust me, she is. I’ve been kidnapped on her orders multiple times with the wounds to prove it,” Mena said, sliding her hand over the scar from the gunshot wound to her arm. She and Stella joined the growing crowd of people in line to go through security.
“I must sound so insensitive right now. Gossiping about all of this when you lived it. I’m sorry,” Stella said.
Mena waved away her concern. Stella expressed what many were thinking. Mena just hoped the testimony at the trial would be enough to convict Priscilla.
Reaching the door, Mena stepped inside the air-conditioned courthouse. Stella hadn’t been lying when she said Prissy’s trial was getting a lot of attention. Journalists and other onlookers swarmed the hallway outside the courtroom beyond the security checkpoint.
Anxiety flooded Mena. She needed a distraction. “How long have you known Kendrick?”
Stella blushed. “Don’t get me started about the detective. He’s such a sweet man, but completely clueless.”
“What do you mean?” Mena rested her bag on the rolling conveyor that inched toward the x-ray screening machine.
“We run into each other almost weekly at this food truck that we both love and always have good conversation. That’s been happening for almost six, seven months now. I flirt and try to show him I’m interested, but he still hasn’t asked me out. The more I get to know him, the more I realize that he’s a friendly guy … to everybody. I was reading more into it than there was. Still, I wouldn’t mind if he asked me out,” Stella said, sliding her bag onto the belt behind Mena’s.
“Kendrick believes that good guys finish last in matters of the heart. He may not be trying anymore,” Mena explained.
“Julian seems like a good guy and he got you. Why can’t Kendrick see that as proof that it’s possible?” Stella asked.
Mena scrunched her face. “I wouldn’t say that Julian falls into the typical good guy category. Not that he isn’t amazing. He truly is. But he’s a bit of a magnet for danger. He doesn’t back down in life or death situations. He goes on the offensive and faces them head on. A real badass, military type.”
“Is that what attracted you to him?” Stella asked.
“Actually, no. It was his gentleness that did it. He has this silly side to his personality that counters all the toughness. He cares deeply and protects the ones he loves fiercely. But in the end, he just gets me, and I get him. When you have that, it’s hard to not fall in love,” Mena said. She slipped her bracelet from her arm and placed it into the holding bucket and watched as it disappeared into the machine.
“That bracelet is stunning. Let me guess, a gift from Julian?”
