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Hank had given her the name, and Phil Marshall looked just like his picture on the website. Megan took great pride in her steady voice when she stepped in his way outside the door to the courtroom and said in a clear voice, “Excuse me. My name is Megan White. I have some evidence I think you need to see.”
CHAPTER46
Troy walked into the courtroom and sat where he was supposed to, grateful to be able to speak with his lawyer and hear the charges for himself. As much confidence as he had in the Constitution and rule of law, he was surprised it had gotten this far. While he sounded confident to his dad, he was really starting to get nervous. He might need to disclose his actual whereabouts on the night of the attack today.
The idea of spending another night in jail made his head pound and his stomach clench. And if this kept going, he could run the risk of obstructing justice or withholding evidence by tying up resources while the real person who attacked Keira was still at-large.
He needed to talk with his lawyer about those possibilities first before it all went any further. Either way, he was screwed, wasn’t sleeping, and was so deep into overthinking he was seriously starting to question his sanity.
He had considered everything from every angle. What was he doing? Where was he going? What did he actually want?
In the long, dark hours of night, Troy had found the answers to those questions were changing.
Before, he had wanted to run away from bad memories, see something different, build up a retirement and sense of security.
Now, he was exhausted, physically and mentally. His scars were too tight and dried out from the jail soap. Nightmares plagued him. Going back to Ft. Campbell didn’t feel right at all.
He wanted peace. He wanted to visit with his dad at McDonald’s and argue over the answers toJeopardy. He wanted to go to the barn every night and check on the horses, at least twice when it got too hot or too cold. But most of all, he wanted Megan right next to him in the middle of the night and in the kitchen the next morning. He wanted to know how her day was. How her work was. How her vet classes were going. He wanted to know everything about every moment of her day. And missing out on that for the next eight years was too much to bear.
He had to come clean. At least get out of this mess in such a way that he could recoup some of his benefits. Get what he could out of the army. He would call his therapist and see if she could transfer her notes to the new mental health clinic in town. Maybe that bed and breakfast dream could work after all. He had a little bit of savings. It would be hard, but he could start now and see where it took him. His great-grandfather had come here looking for gold, starting from nothing. He could do the same.
First, he needed to beg for Megan’s forgiveness and tell her everything.
Troy had endured another nightmare last night and had hardly slept afterward. He felt like hell, probably looked worse, and…
There in the first row, he saw her hair. The beautiful red curls were tossed up in some sort of messy bun like she’d had a late night too.
Troy digested the whole picture. She looked thinner, paler too, with dark circles under her beautiful, clear blue eyes. Her perfect lips turned upward slightly as she gave him a small, encouraging smile.
He smiled back until he realized where she should be and where she clearly was not. Today was Monday. Why hadn’t she gone to her interview? She had been so excited when they had talked about it at dinner.
Guilt flooded him. After the way he had lost control, she had no reason to be here or to give up her dreams for him. He wished like hell he could talk to her, tell her to go, but he could only speak with his lawyer now.
Speak of the devil. Phil Marshall wore a blue suit today and was a man on a mission. He slapped a folder down in front of Troy.
“Why in the hell didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”
Oh shit.
Troy pulled his hands over his face as the fight went out of him. He was so tired. So exhausted from the sleepless nights, the shame, the fear, the grief, the masking, the anxiety. All of it. This was how it was going to go.
“I’m sorry, I just didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Know that you’re innocent?”
“Did Megan tell you?” Of course she did, but the question was how did she know? What did she think of him? Was that pity in her smile?
“Gave me printouts and everything. Troy, I really wish you would’ve just come out with this sooner. Could’ve saved us all a lot of trouble. Doesn’t matter now. Let me go talk to the prosecutor and the judge.”
“Let me take a look at these first.” Better to know what kind of shit circus this would cause. The counselor said everything was confidential, but then again wasn’t there some clause or something?
Troy sat down, flipped open the folder, and saw…maps.
There was no appointment reminder, no notes, no damning evidence or anything about mental health. All he saw was time-stamped maps with his location, tracking his phone on the other side of town, parked at the Brightrock Clinic right when the attack occurred.
“It may not be enough. The prosecutor will argue you could’ve given your phone to your girlfriend over there—”
Troy broke into a broad grin. “She’s not my girlfriend.” Officially…yet.
