I paused for a moment. “You’re a good litigator, aren’t you?”
“I like to think so.”
“And you always win your arguments?”
“Not always, but most of the time.”
“Then let me quit this argument while I’m behind, and take a glance at the case file instead.”
His smile waned, and the grim look in his eyes returned.
“But first, tell me, how does a farm boy from Abilene end up this hotshot lawyer in Las Vegas?”
The darkness dissipated as he leaned back against the couch cushions, crossing his legs and interlacing his fingers in his lap. Within a split second, he’d gone from tense and gloomy to seemingly relaxed. Perhaps that ability was what had made him successful in his work, that mental and emotional flexibility.
“Well, if I have to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, I did it by waiting tables and getting really big tips from women of a certain age.”
My hand flew to my mouth. I couldn’t help a chuckle. “What? You didn’t—”
“Oh, no, I didn’t sleep with them!” he quickly pushed back. “But waiting on the right tables makes a lot of sense in this town. Knowing what these ladies want, and pretending to play their games.” He paused for a moment, his blue eyes lost in the distance of memories. “When you left, I’d just been hired at the gas station. I didn’t last there a week!” He laughed. “The following weekend, I was waiting tables at the Dusty Spur. Remember that hellhole?”
“Yeah, I do. It was nothing but a truck stop, the parking lot always smelling of manure from livestock haulers. Swarms of black flies ...” The place had been terrible, and yet I was remembering it fondly.
“Yeah, that’s the one. I lasted about two weeks, and left the night a trucker told me what kind of tips someone could get in Vegas. I just took off my apron, threw it over the counter, and hitched a ride out of there with the same trucker.” He winked at me. “That old man ate for free that night. Best ten dollars I ever spent.”
Colton’s story made me feel relieved. He’d moved on quickly after I’d left. “I’m glad you didn’t wait around for me to return. I—I couldn’t face my father again. I was afraid.” Afraid I’d turn into a killer the next time he laid a hand on me, but that part I left unsaid.
Colton leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “I left word for you everywhere, you know. With my parents, with Billy Ray, even with the old pastor, Elias.” He paused for a beat, looking at me with a sense of longing that was overwhelming and endearing at the same time. “I never gave up on you.”
I bit my lip, looking at my fidgeting fingers. “I’m so sorry, Colton.”
“It’s okay, I understand,” he replied, his gaze shifting into the distance. “So, yeah, that’s how I paid my way through law school, one overpriced steak dinner at a time. I graduated prelaw in two and a half years, sleeping four hours a night. Law school took me the full three years, and then I took the first high-paying job that came my way.” A shadow darkened his eyes for a moment. “It’s corporate law, mostly. Boring.”
His words faded into silence. It was almost dark, and perfectly quiet. The sky was lined with a disappearing swath of deep purple. I counted a few stars to summon the courage to ask him another question.
“What’s going to happen to me?” I eventually asked. “Give it to me straight.” I pointed loosely at the thick file on the table. “I need to know where I stand, so I can prepare myself for what’s coming.”
When he looked at me, his eyes were stern. “They have a lot of evidence, and more is pending. You don’t have an alibi for the time of the murder; quite the opposite, they have video putting you at the scene. There’s a note about your laptop—it’s still with their technical analyst.” He cleared his voice and clasped his hands together. “I don’tknow what’s going to happen ... But I promise you I will do everything in my power to get you a not-guilty verdict.”
Fear enveloped me like an icy shroud. Things were about to get even worse. “My laptop ...” Despair choked me, shattering my voice. “Colton, they’ll discover I was obsessed with him! I researched him online, tracked him, stalked his socials. Collected articles about him, about his business interests. I’m so screwed. I can’t possibly explain all this to a jury and hope they’ll see it my way. Not with what’s on that laptop.”
He didn’t comfort me. He stared into the distance instead, his jaw clenched and his lips pressed into a tight line, his hands steepled in front of his mouth. I sat there silently, terrified, trying to make sense of what was going through his mind. He’d said he’d never given up on me ... and now he knew I had given up on him. I’d fallen in love with another man, after becoming obsessed with him. Could he move past that?
“Why did you change your name?” he asked again, taking me by surprise.
I hesitated, with each second of silence knowing I was sinking deeper into a web of lies. Perhaps he’d never find out about the other cities and the other men. The other names. He only knew about this one.
“I just hate my given name,” I eventually said, my voice betraying me.
He shot me a sideways glance as if telling me he didn’t believe a word I was saying.
“I had to get rid of it.” I managed a quick laugh. “You didn’t have to go through life named after a piece of clothing.”
“I see.” Another long moment of silence. “If we’re going to win this, you have to tell me everything.” He paused for another beat. “You know, it’s hard for me to call you Olivia. It takes some getting used to, I guess, after all these years of loving a girl named Hattie.”
I held my breath, afraid of his questions. Of his feelings for me and how they could mess things up. When he looked at me, his eyes wereintense, a glimmer of what we used to have still lingering. Dangerous. Complicated.
“Our conversations are protected by attorney-client privilege,” he added. “But you and I go way beyond that. You have nothing to be afraid of, except lying to me. I can’t defend you with lies.”
