She pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. “Winston was already dead. You might have noticed on the video that he didn’t open the door for me; I had to use my card. I left only a few minutes later.”
My jaw dropped. Colton stiffened by my side, visibly upset with how things were unfolding. Mitchell was calmly asking questions, as if he’d had time to prepare. She’d seen our strategy coming a mile away and had already enrolled his support. She was gutsyandbrilliant; I had to give her that.
“Did you call the police?” Mitchell asked.
Seemingly ashamed, she lowered her head for a moment. “No. I was in shock. The scene was ... quite gruesome. I was scared ... I ran away. I know it was the wrong thing to do, and I am sorry.”
“No more questions, Your Honor.”
“Redirect?” Colton asked.
Antunez gestured. “Proceed.”
“Mrs. Donovan, are we supposed to believe that you snuck out of a carefully constructed alibi—”
“Objection!” Mitchell barked. “Facts not in evidence.”
“Your Honor, the witness testimony opened the door.”
“I’ll allow it,” Antunez said, leaning forward with his eyes sparkling with interest.
“So, Mrs. Donovan, you left the Miracle Mall dressed as my client, sneaking out of a carefully constructed alibi, only to find the victim already dead when you got there?”
“I—I don’t understand the question,” Claire replied, her eyes narrowed again. She was probably trying to buy herself time.
“I know it’s a bit complicated,” Colton replied, speaking more for the jury. He clicked the remote, and the screens displayed Claire as a blonde, dressed in a red top and black skirt, entering the apparel store. “If you follow the time stamps on these photos, you’ll see what happened. First, you entered the store. Then, minutes later, you left the store dressed as my client, whose picture you’d seen earlier, when news of Winston’s proposal to her was brought to your attention. From that store to the Cosmopolitan, it’s just a five-minute walk. We have you here entering the hotel, then taking the elevator up,” he continued, clicking the remote and displaying images of her at each juncture. “Later, you’re leaving the hotel, going back to the mall, changing, and emerging from the store in that red top and black skirt as if you’d been in there all that time. So ... you did all that, and you expect us to believe your husband was already dead?”
“Yes!” she cried loudly, despair coloring her voice. “That’s exactly what happened.”
Colton chuckled sarcastically. “No more questions, Your Honor.”
55
A Moment
That night, we celebrated with a long dinner at a French restaurant on the Strip. It was wonderful; I could breathe again. I even dared to take off my white scarf, relishing the warm breeze through my hair, though I kept my sunglasses on. We chatted, ate, drank, and laughed for hours, as if the trial were over—but it wasn’t. Despite the exuberance, remembering the upcoming closing arguments and jury deliberations sent a pang of fear stabbing through me.
Colton wasn’t concerned. “I could send my closing argument by mail tomorrow, and we’d still win this,” he said, showing off a little as he squeezed my hand. “The evidence against you is all but dismantled. Remember, we only need reasonable doubt for an acquittal.”
But later, at home, he showed the same diligence in preparing the closing statement, as if my life depended on it. And, to some unknown extent, it still did.
After a long shower, I found Billy Ray crashed on the sofa, snoring with the TV remote clutched in his hand. Colton sat at the dining room table, jotting notes. He stood when I approached.
“How are you feeling?”
I smiled shyly, afraid to jinx it. “Okay ... relieved, I guess. Anxious, too ... We still have tomorrow. What if something happens?”
He drew closer and tugged a loose strand of hair behind my ear, the way he used to do when we’d been young. The simple gesture warmed my heart. “It will be all right,” he whispered, pulling me closer. “I promise.”
I gazed into his blue eyes and saw the love I’d lost ten years ago, undamaged. “Colton, I—”
His lips found mine, and it felt like coming home. The weight of the courtroom, the tension of the trial ... everything melted away as I lost myself in the familiar embrace. His kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters of something long forgotten. With every passing second, it deepened, becoming more urgent, fueled by years of unspoken words. Of longing and regrets.
When we finally pulled apart, breathless, he stroked my cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Everything will be all right, sweet girl,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ll see.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them away, refusing to let the fear win. “I know,” I whispered back, my voice barely audible. “I trust you, Colton. You saved my life.”
As the warmth of the moment settled, a gnawing sense of dread began to creep back into my mind, freezing me to my core. Tomorrow was another day in court, and anything was possible. As much as I wanted to believe his promises, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something dark and terrifying still lingered on the horizon.
