I smiled sadly. No mystery there. “Thank you, Detective. I hope you find out who that man was, but I still believe his wife killed him.”
He paused, his expression shifting—eyebrows lifting slightly, lips pressing together in a half smirk, half consideration. “Huh,” he said, tilting his head. “It’s always the wife, right?” A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, the kind that carried both amusement and skepticism.
Turning to leave, he added with a glance over his shoulder, “Word is, you’re getting an acquittal. No way they’re finding you guilty after Claire Donovan’s testimony.”
I nodded, feeling the grip of dread once more. “Let’s hope so.”
“Well, in any case, you have more than enough cause for an appeal. And one hell of a lawyer. By the way, how did you score Blake for your defense? He’s only taking, um, certain cases.”
The change in his tone of voice made me frown a little. “What do you mean? Like, commercial cases?”
His hearty laughter echoed on the silent street, silencing the chirping birds for a moment. “You mean you don’t know?” He looked at me as if he’d never seen me before and I was the funniest thing ever. “Ha! Next thing you’ll tell me is you found him in the Yellow Pages.”
I laughed quietly, more to hide the tension I was feeling. “No ... he and I go way back. We grew up together, in Texas.” My frown returned. “What am I missing, Detective?”
He laughed some more. “I’ll be damned ... Ask your old friend what the last case he defended was. The name of his client.” Then he climbed behind the wheel and drove off.
I pulled out my phone, ready to search the internet. I didn’t want to tell Colton about this conversation. No reason, just instinct. I was just typing in the search string when the door opened and Colton came out, neatly dressed for court.
“Ready?”
57
Closing
The courtroom smelled of aftershave, sweat, and fear, as it usually did so early in the morning. The audience was packed, people lining the walls. Claire sat in the front row behind ADA Mitchell, and Detective Stanek stood by the door.
ADA Mitchell rose from his seat, adjusting his tie as he approached the jury. The room was silent, every eye fixed on him. Despite Colton’s reassurances, I was scared. So many things could still go wrong—including the verdict itself.
With juries, you never knew. Or so I’d been told.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Mitchell began, his voice steady, intense, “we’ve spent days in this courtroom, sifting through evidence, hearing from witnesses, and piecing together the truth. Now it is time to look at the facts—cold, hard, irrefutable facts.”
He paced slowly, letting silence fill the room for a moment before continuing. “We know that Winston Donovan was killed by a highly concentrated dose of methamphetamine, administered through spiked eye drops. A method as cruel as it is cunning. The evidence points clearly to the defendant, Olivia Taylor.”
Mitchell’s eyes scanned the jury, ensuring he had their full attention. One juror tapped his foot impatiently. Another, a younger woman,bit her fingernail. “We have the murder weapon—a bottle ofVisinelaced with methamphetamine, bearing Olivia Taylor’s fingerprints. We have video footage showing her coming and going from the hotel garage, her demeanor distraught. The autopsy findings align perfectly with the time Olivia was last seen on that footage.”
He paused for a loaded moment. “Now, the defense argued that Olivia had no motive to kill Winston, that she had more to gain by marrying him. But, as Dr. Leishman testified, Olivia’s history of childhood trauma made it impossible for her to truly commit to a relationship like that. She couldn’t let Winston in, couldn’t cross that final threshold. And that reality, ladies and gentlemen, is what shattered her fragile psyche. That is her motive for murder.”
His words made me shudder. Again, he’d twisted things around and painted my hands with Winston’s blood. Fear grew inside me, unfurling in my gut and spreading like wildfire.
Mitchell’s voice grew stronger, filled with conviction. “Olivia’s actions weren’t driven by greed or jealousy—they were driven by fear, by shame, by the scars left on her by a past she could never escape. Winston was getting too close, and Olivia, in her damaged state, saw only one way out: to end his life before he could truly see her for who she was.”
He let the silence that followed his words linger, probably seeing that the jurors were hanging on his every word. The foot tapping had stopped, and so had the nail biting. They were gripped.
“And let’s address the defense’s attempts to introduce doubt into your minds. Yes, it was proven that Claire, not Olivia, was the one knocking on that door, but let’s not be distracted. Claire found Winston already dead.”
Mitchell looked at the jury, his expression somber. “Ladies and gentlemen, Olivia Taylor’s story is tragic, but that does not excuse her actions. The evidence is clear. I urge you to find Olivia Taylor guilty of the murder of Winston Donovan.”
He stepped back, his final words resonating through the courtroom like a verdict already handed down. “This is about justice, aboutensuring that no one, no matter their past, can get away with murder. Thank you.”
Mitchell returned to his seat, seeming confident that he had done everything in his power to sway the jury. He shot me a quick glance in passing, and I withered under it.
Without waiting for the judge’s invitation, Colton stood slowly and fastened his jacket button, then walked over to the jury with a confident demeanor. It was the last chance to reach them. To persuade them of my innocence.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Colton started, his voice steady but filled with passion, “you’ve been entrusted with a solemn duty. It is your responsibility to weigh the evidence, to review the arguments presented by both sides, and to determine whether or not the prosecution has proven—beyond a reasonable doubt—that Olivia Taylor committed the crime of murder in the first degree. And I emphasizebeyond a reasonable doubt. If there is any doubt in your minds, you are obligated, by the law and by your conscience, to return a verdict of not guilty.”
He let the words hang in the air for a moment, while looking at each of them as if to make sure they understood. Some jurors nodded; others muttered words I couldn’t hear.
