The prosecutor hesitated a split second. “No, Your Honor, but the officers—”
“Well, then, you know the drill,” the judge said. “No signed waiver, no admissible statements. The defense’s motion to suppress is granted.” Colton shot me a quick triumphant glance. “Any other motions?”
“Your Honor, the defense moves for access to the crime scene to conduct our own examination. It is crucial for our case to have an unbiased view of the location where the alleged crime took place.”
“Mr. Mitchell?” the judge asked, shifting his attention to the prosecutor.
“Your Honor, the crime scene has already been thoroughly examined by the police and documented. Moreover, being a hotel suite, it has since been released and is now back in service. Granting access at this point would be impractical and disruptive to the hotel, and useless from a probative perspective.”
The judge pressed his lips together in a thin line. “Mr. Blake, given these circumstances, I must deny your motion for access to the crime scene.”
“But, Your Honor, the integrity of our defense depends on having access to the original scene.”
“I understand your concern, Mr. Blake. However, the situation as it stands does not permit reaccessing the scene. You will need to rely on the evidence and documentation provided during the investigation. Motion denied.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Colton said, sounding a bit frustrated.
The judge stood. “Jury selection in one week.” A strike of the gavel ended the court session.
I stood, feeling shaky and yet relieved it was over, at least for today.
Colton gathered his things and put them in his briefcase, then slammed the lid shut. “They were in a big hurry to release the scene,” he muttered under his breath.
The prosecutor stopped by our table on his way out. He stared at me with a deathly chill in his eyes. “You win some, you lose some, right, Blake? And this time, you’re all alone.”
Colton didn’t budge. He stared at the prosecutor and grinned. “As long as I win the critical ones, I’m fine with it.” Mitchell brushed off Colton’s shoulder with the tips of his fingers. “Careful there, Counselor. Some might say this is assault,” Colton added, grinning widely.
Mitchell took an immediate step back. The two men stared at each other for a long moment, but then Mitchell walked away. “Have a good day, Mr. Blake.”
“What was that?” I asked, walking by Colton’s side toward the exit. “Why does he hate me so much?”
He clasped my hand as if I were a child. “It’s not about you. We crossed paths in the past. He’s just a sore loser. You have nothing to worry about.”
The comment didn’t ring true.
36
A Spider
There was no talking Colton out of going to dinner—the three of us—to celebrate the exclusion motion we’d been granted. I hadn’t thought those initial statements were so important, and I could barely recall what I’d said when arrested, but Colton seemed to think it was a big deal, and I believed him.
Leaving the courtroom, though, a weariness seeped into my body, weighing me down like liquid lead.
I’d been avoiding the news, any kind of television, and the boys were shielding me from it. Regardless, I knew, considering who Winston used to be, that my case had to be a landmark case. Prosecution had a lot to lose, career-wise and politically, if they lost; it was an election year, and the state’s district attorney needed the win. The people of Las Vegas must’ve been demanding blood.
Mine.
Colton drove us to the Strip, despite my vocal protests. I wanted something quiet, a place where no one would recognize me, but he seemed adamant. And he was doing so much for me, and expecting nothing in return. The least I could do was give him the occasional ask. After parking his SUV at one of the hotels, we walked the Strip toward the restaurant he’d chosen.
“We’ll go to Prime,” Colton offered. “We can have an early dinner and watch the fountains.”
My heart sank. I couldn’t see the fountains. It was too soon. “Could we go someplace else instead?”
He gave me a quick look. His eyes were cold, scrutinizing. “Sure. How about Kassi Beach House instead? We’ll grab something on the patio lounge. I know you like to eat outside.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly, managing a faint smile. “Billy Ray, you okay with it?” I asked, more to deflect attention from me. He’d been increasingly quiet lately.
My brother shrugged. “Hey, wherever you wanna go, that’s fine by me. I ain’t never been nowhere.”
