“Olivia,” Colton said again through gritted teeth. “Enough. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Dismissing him with a gesture, I stayed focused on the judge. “I went there myself,” I said, shrugging apologetically. “I wanted to see the place where he—”
“Olivia, for crying out loud, stop!” Colton urged me. He approached and grabbed my elbow, dragging me away from the bench. “You’re incriminating yourself.”
“Your Honor, the room didn’t smell of lavender anymore. The hotel can confirm!” I yanked my arm free of Colton’s hold and turned to him, a seething rage swelling my chest. “How did you know the room smelled of lavender when Winston was there?”
“Son of a bitch,” I heard Billy Ray muttering behind me. I threw him a quick glance over my shoulder. He was pale and tense, his jaws clenched tightly, his white-knuckled hands holding on to the bar as if it were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
The judge yanked his glasses off. He sat there for a moment, just staring at me, probably weighing his options. The audience was frozenstill, perfectly silent, with the tension crackling in the air like static electricity. “All right, Ms. Taylor, I heard your concern, and it’s a doozy. Now, we have to—”
“Your Honor,” I interrupted, choked, feeling my heart break, “before Claire Donovan went to see Winston at the hotel that day, about two hours earlier, a man visited with him. The police are looking into it.”
Oh God, please tell me that man wasn’t Colton. Please, tell me he didn’t do this.My thoughts raced angrily, desperately looking for other explanations, no matter how far-fetched.
The courtroom reeled from my statement, but the judge didn’t seem to care about the noise anymore.
“Ms. Taylor, please go back to your seat.” His cold, firm glance told me I’d run out of leeway with him.
“Yes, Your Honor,” I said, taking my seat quickly. My heart drummed inside my chest so loudly that I could barely hear my own thoughts.
The judge stared at me for a long moment. “I don’t think there’s too much precedent for this kind of mess. I will appoint temporary counsel for Ms. Taylor, because the trial attorney is clearly conflicted in this matter. Mr. Blake, at this time, I would suggest you retain counsel of your own.” He took off his glasses and folded the arms, slipping them into their case. “Mr. Mitchell, I don’t need to tell you we’re probably looking at a mistrial.” He grabbed the gavel and lifted it. “We’re adjourned until nine tomorrow.”
The gavel strike set everyone in motion, but I didn’t move, and neither did Colton. He stared at me with a look of infinite sadness on his face.
59
Jealousy
A mistrial?
As the thought sank in, my stomach plunged. I couldn’t go through it again. I buried my face in my hands, trying to settle my racing thoughts, but I couldn’t. Frustrated and aching for fresh air, I stood, searching for Billy Ray. He was talking with Colton by the bench, his expression wary, threatening. His shoulders were hunched, fists clenched tight. My brother was about to punch his best friend.
I pulled out my phone, finishing my search on Colton’s recent cases. The last one had been a murder trial, not commercial. He’d won, securing a not-guilty verdict for Benny DiMarco.
The name resonated in my mind like a thumping loudspeaker. Stunned, I kept scrolling through articles and looking at pictures. In one of them, taken when the defense team had been leaving the courthouse, Colton was handing some documents to another man.
That man was Frank Holford, whom I’d nicknamed Jack. The man my private investigator had said was a DiMarco family enforcer.
My head was spinning.
“Hello, Olivia,” Claire said, making me jump out of my skin.
I smiled nervously. “Hello, Claire. Your hair looks ... interesting.”
She pulled me to the side and lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “If you’re going to repeat what I’m about to tell you, I’ll deny it.”
I nodded, surprised. “Oh?”
“You’re onto something with the lavender. Stick with that.” She patted me on the shoulder with a perfectly manicured hand, adorned with a ring that looked disturbingly like mine.
My smile widened. “And you’re telling me that to get yourself off the hook, of course. For Emelda, and for your husband. It’s quite convenient for you.” I looked straight into her eyes and saw nothing but ice in those dark irises—the type of coldness you see in the slit pupil of a venomous snake.
She chuckled and tilted her head, as if flirting with the idea. “No. I’m saying it because it’s the truth.” She opened her purse and pulled out her phone, then quickly displayed a security video taken in her backyard. Distant and a bit blurry, the video showed the patio table, and the bottle ofVisinewith my fingerprints on it, right where I’d left it. About twenty seconds into the video, a man snuck by quickly, took the bottle ofVisinefrom the table, and then disappeared. He was the same man I’d seen knocking on Winston’s door. Black jacket with raised collar, ballcap, and sunglasses.
Now, I knew who that was.
Colton.
