And he looks as if he regrets every single one.
Everett fills that hole back up and Noah grabs a pitchfork from the garage as they land a mound of snow over the unmarked grave, making it look as if nothing had ever happened in the first place.
Carlotta and I make our way down from the porch and the five of us look down at the spot where Florenza Canelli lies buried underneath the frozen earth.
“I’d like to say something.” Carlotta clears her throat. “God rest ye merry gentlemen.”
“Carlotta.” I wrinkle my nose her way. “That’s a Christmas carol.”
“All right, fine.” She turns to the hot pink apparition among us. “How about you and I get schnockered with whiskey, kiddo?”
Flo shudders at that nefarious mound of snow. “I thought you’d never ask.”
She and Carlotta take off, and it’s just Everett, Noah and me.
Everett collects the shovels and pitchfork. “I’ll hose these off and put them back.” He takes off, and Noah wraps his arms around me. His eyes hold a supernatural glow, and it makes this entire scene feel like a very bad dream.
“I’d do anything for you, Lot.” His voice is threadbare. “And this helps everybody in Vermont. Don’t forget that. We did it for the greater good.” He lands a brazen kiss right to my lips and pulls back slowly. “If anything goes wrong, I was the only one involved.”
Everett comes back and quickly puts his clothes back on in haste.
“No.” I shake my head at Noah. “I would never let it go down that way,” I say as Everett navigates me to the front and we move our cars back where they belong.
By the time we get in the house, all of Evie’s guests are gone, the house is dark, and both Pancake and Waffles are asleep on the ridge of the sofa.
Everett takes me by the hand and walks me straight to our bathroom. He runs a hot shower and peels off both his clothes and mine and pulls me in with him.
The steam rises around us as Everett lands those cobalt eyes over mine and he holds me for a very long while, no words, just the deep penetrating, heavy, heavy stare that says so much all on its own. It says what have we done? What have I done for you? Who are we? What have I become?
Everett takes a breath—first one it seems like in hours—and his hands ride over my back before he floats a hand over my belly and the idea of a smile crests his lips. In that moment, the questions in his eyes disappear. He has his answer.
Everett lands his mouth to mine and gives a careful kiss that quickly burns as bright as the sun, just as hot and dangerous.
Everything about me is dangerous these days.
It begs the questions what kind of a wife am I? What kind of a mother?
My downfall feels as inevitable as gravity.
The only real question left is who will I take down with me?
The Hearst curse has nothing on me and my bad luck. I should cut and run—spare both Noah and Everett the horror of prison—the humiliation of losing their careers forever. And poor Evie…
What have I done?
What have I pulled us into?
When will this all finally come crashing down around us?
And it will.
Cosmic justice demands it.
Chapter 9
The Ashford County Courthouse is quickly becoming the bane of my existence.
The irony in that being it’s the very nexus of what Everett loves, or at least in part.
Everett and I clear security and head in the general direction of his courtroom. He came in a little later than usual so I wouldn’t have to sit around for hours waiting for the trial to start. He usually likes to pour over his cases, and any briefings he may have, but he did it all remotely from home this morning. He says he plans on doing a lot of that once he gets back to work after the baby is born.
Both Noah and Everett have told me they plan on taking paternal time off regardless of whose baby it turns out to be. When I think back to last June, a part of me wants to cry despite the fact it’s sponsored what will be one of the greatest joys in my life.
Back in June, I had just told Noah that I was going to give Everett and me another shot—upon his insistence, but it was ultimately my decision. Let’s just say Noah and I shared a rather heated goodbye.
And well, Everett and I shared a rather heated hello all within a very short span of time. And now, in just a little over two months, I’ll be a mother. As excited as I am to finally meet my little sugar cookie, I’m terrified of what the outcome of those paternal results will do to one of those men. Both Noah and Everett already love this child so much. They have spent nights reading children’s books right to my belly. They’re emotionally invested, and the last thing I want to do is emotionally devastate one of them.
Everett pulls me to the side and takes up both my hands in his. His dark coat makes his eyes sing an electric blue, and that smile flirting on his lips is all for me.
“You’re going to do amazing, Lemon.” He lands a kiss to my lips and lingers. “I’m not going to lie, having you in my courtroom is the first treat of the year.”
I make a face. “Everett, you know I’ve been nothing but a curse to you.”
“Don’t go dark on me.”
“Dark? You and I both saw the news this morning.”
Right there on our television set, with Evie in the room no less, we watched as a crowd gathered around the mortuary in Leeds due to the disappearance of the body belonging to mafia princess, Angel Face Flo. To make matters worse, they showed Noah and his partner down at the homicide division, Ivy Fairbanks, as they were headed inside to inspect the scene. Ivy is a leggy redhead who isn’t so hot on me, but I’m still willing to bet money is very hot for Noah.
“How do you like that?” I whisper. “Noah is investigating the very crime he perpetrated. It’s all coming to a very dark full circle. I’m cursed, I tell you.”
Everett shakes his head. “I’m going to chalk that cursed talk up to all those hormones going haywire inside of you. You have been nothing but a blessing. You’re my wife. I jumped in with both feet and I’m still in. I’ll always be in. Court will be fun, interesting in the least. How about afterwards I take you somewhere nice?”
A spray of hot pink stars erupts to our left, and Florenza Canelli appears in all her bubblegum pink glory.
“How about you take your wife out to a nice place in Scooter Springs?” She bumps her ghostly hip to his. “I think it’s high time we pin down Nicky and show him our knuckles.”
“Florenza?” Everett turns to his right. “Maybe I’ll do that.”
“You will?” The words swim from me with a tiny laugh embedded in them.
“Only because I have a feeling you’re already headed that way.” His brows bounce.
“Essex?” a female voice pitches from behind, and we spot Fiona Dagmeyer speeding this way, briefcase in hand. Her dark hair is pulled back into a low bun and holds a mirror shine. She’s donned a blue blazer and matching pencil skirt, and her red-rimmed glasses match her crimson lips. “What’s this I hear you may not be the father of this child?” She scoffs as if she was just let in on this little bit of gossip. “Sounds like Lolita Lemon strikes again.”
“Watch your step, Fiona. She’s my wife,” Everett says it with an edge. “And, regardless of the genetics of this baby, it’s fully mine. Is there anything else counsel would like clarification on?”
“I’ll admit, I’m mystified.” She hikes a brow and examines the two of us. “For as long as I’ve known you, Essex, I’ve yet to see you so smitten. I suppose congratulations are in order.” She squints my way. “And if I’m not mistaken, you’ve been involved in more than one homicide investigation out in Honey Hollow. Something tells me you’re going to need a defense attorney in your future. Just know I’m only a phone call away.” She sheds a wicked smile to Everett. “Or perhaps it’s you who will need my services.” She takes off with a spring in her step.
“Well”—I take a deep breath—“she may not be wrong.
At least we have counsel lined up.”
“We won’t need her.” He dots my forehead with a kiss. “See you inside. It’s going to be a wild one.”
A wild one.
It seems to be we’re always involved in something wild.
An hour later, I’m locked in that jury box seated next to Annie Steal Your Man with her bright low-cut red dress and blonde hair teased so high she’s genuinely closer to God. And to my right is a man with thick glasses—we’re talking Coke bottoms that make you dizzy just glancing at them. He’s thin, wearing a baggy suit, looks mid-forties at most, and has a halo worth of hair and lots of facial fuzz. Seems nice enough. If I’m going to suffer through this, I might as well make a few friends.
“Dillard,” he whispers my way as we wait for Everett to make his entrance. “I’m an accountant. I’m just about to head into my busy season, and I have extreme anxiety. If I pass out, don’t make a big deal out of it. I’m not one who likes attention.”
“Oh.” My hand presses to my chest. “Good to know.” As if I’m going to let his body slump to mine for two hours straight. Fat chance, buddy. I will be making a very big deal about it. “I’m Lottie. I’m a baker. And this is Annie.” I point to my left. “She’s a stunner.” I shrug because I have no life details on her whatsoever.
The bailiff steps forward. “All rise for the honorable Judge Essex Everett Baxter.”
About six women behind me all sigh in unison as we stand to our feet.
Annie groans as Everett walks in. “Holy buckets. How do you keep it together?” She flicks my hand with her own.
And to be honest, right now I’m not all that calm myself.
Everett floats up to his seat, looking every bit like the deity he is, body put together just the way God intended, shock of dark hair juxtaposed against those serious blue eyes. That stern expression on his gorgeous face lets us know he’s not here to play nice. And he is certainly not going to smile for us, maybe ever.
We’re seated once again as Everett does a quick once-over of the jury box, the prosecution, then the defense.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” he says. “Calling the case for People of the State of Vermont v. Allison Gray. Are both sides ready?”
I’ve got a clear shot of both the prosecution and the defense.
Mr. Wolfe is looking dapper with his gray suit and his facial fuzz. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that Annie is equally mesmerized with him as she is with Everett.
Fiona has a legal team of what looks to be a couple of interns seated behind her, a young man and woman who I saw her conferring with earlier. And next to her sits the star of the show, the defendant. She’s a young woman, about my age, with her shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair combed straight, gold-rimmed glasses, dressed in a blush pink button-down top with a tweed blazer over that. She looks milquetoast, scholarly, as if I might bump into her at the library. She definitely has an air of innocence about her.
The prosecutor, Mr. Wolfe, nods to Everett. “Ready for the People, Your Honor.”
Fiona nods as well. “Ready for the defense, Your Honor.”
Everett motions to the woman seated to his left. “Clerk, swear in the jury.”
The tall brunette has us stand and swear under oath that we will return a true verdict. We say I do and take a seat.
Honestly, as much as I’d like nothing more than to focus on the case, my stomach is already rumbling, and about halfway through that swearing in process, I lost track of what she was asking us to do. I knew I’d make a lousy juror, I knew it.
“Hey, Lottie!”
I glance up in horror to find Flo seated on the edge of Fiona’s table, swinging her legs like a kid.
“This is fun!” She reaches under the table and holds up a glob of something pink. “Gum!” she pops it into her mouth and starts to chew frenetically. “Oh, don’t look so green. What’s it gonna hurt? I’m already dead.”
She’s got a point there.
“Let’s try to speed this along.” She offers up a stern look. “We’ve got a real case to solve—mine.” She turns and makes a face at the defendant. “Whatever she did, she looks innocent enough. Let’s hope this moves quickly. A courtroom is the last place I want to spend my free time.”
“You and me both, sister,” I mutter, and suddenly all eyes are on me, including Everett’s.
He offers a quizzical look as if to ask if I was okay and I nod for him to proceed.
Everett leans in. “Would the deputy DA begin, please?”
Mr. Wolfe stands and meanders our way. He hoists up a large frame with a picture of a man with dark wavy hair and sets it on an easel. The man in the picture holds all the charm of the quintessential boy next door—the boy who follows all the rules. There’s a warmth in his smile that seems genuine. “Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the defendant has been charged with the murder of Carter Cameron, a car salesman from right here in Ashford. There is not an argument of how or even who killed Carter this past August in his own home while in his kitchen looking to make dinner for the woman who would ultimately take his life. She’s right here in this courtroom. Allison Gray.” He takes a moment to point to the woman with the strawberry blonde hair, and she looks down at the table as if she were trying not to listen in on someone else’s private conversation. “Carter was well-loved and respected in the community, within his family. He was a good person who often gave his time and resources volunteering down at the Ashford County homeless shelter. He had a bright future in front of him. Carter loved Allison. He flaunted her proudly to his friends and family. There were even whispers of a proposal in the works. And how did she return his love and affection? By plunging a knife into his heart—repeatedly.”
My body flinches just hearing it. It looks as if the innocent librarian might just be a viper in disguise.
Flo grunts as she pops a bright pink bubble, her legs still swinging wildly. “She’s guilty.” She winks my way. “Ten bucks says he cheated. I’ve had a few exes who deserved a knife to the heart themselves. Let her go, Lot. She’s a hero to all of us.”
Back in high school, Bear made it a sport of cheating on me, and even though I wanted to murder him at the time, I would have never gone through with it. And boy, am I glad. I’d be rotting in a prison cell right now if I did. I would have never met Noah or Everett. And I wouldn’t have this precious sugar cookie kicking me every now and again as if aerobics were in session.
Mr. Wolfe wanders over and looks me in the eye. “Carter Cameron’s body, however, was not found in the kitchen. He was discovered by police to be in the living room, slumped over in his favorite chair with what the coroner will call defense wounds on his hands. Carter Cameron experienced a horrific death, and we will prove that the killer went to great lengths to stage the crime scene in order to hide evidence. Towels and blankets covered in blood were discovered in a dumpster just down the street from here. Just a few paces away from where Allison Gray worked at a local boutique. Furthermore, the police noticed something else that was odd at the scene of the crime. Someone had taken the time to clean up Carter Cameron’s body, and although he had experienced significant blood loss and had multiple stab wounds, there wasn’t but a nominal amount of blood on the chair he was sitting in, nor was there any on his body. When police questioned Allison where she was that night, she initially said she was at the movies. Indeed, she has a credit card receipt for a movie playing at that time. Just one ticket was purchased and she claimed she went alone, but security footage revealed she never showed up. Instead, she stabbed Carter multiple times in the chest and back, then proceeded to cover it up by alleging there were perpetrators at his home—that she herself saw them. Allison Gray told this story to officers but has since changed her tune. Now she states she was there, there were no perpetrators, that she alone did it. And she wants to tell you yet another story. I can tell you this. She did kill Carter Cameron, but it wasn’t in self-defense. There were no other perpetrators—only the sch
emes of her own imagination. The People are seeking the death penalty in this case.”
Death penalty?
I blow out a breath at the thought. This is serious. Why in the world would I want any part in this? How can I sentence someone to die and then give birth as if it were the most natural thing in the world?
Fiona Dagmeyer nods to Everett and then to Mr. Wolfe as they change places.
“Judge Baxter, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, there is no question of what happened to Carter Cameron that day back in August. He died indeed by the hand of Allison Gray. We will not contest that. But we will demonstrate to you why she felt that needed to happen. We will demonstrate to you that Allison was once in love with Carter as the prosecution claims, but that quickly dissipated when he started exhibiting violent behavior toward her. At first it was verbal, a biting comment that would knock her down here or there, then it quickly escalated to something physical. Allison was ashamed of what was happening, as are so many domestic violence victims. She wanted to hide this from her family and friends. She tried to break it off with Carter, but he wouldn’t have it. He hounded her at work, at her apartment. He threatened her very life. Last August, she had enough and decided to return a box of his things. He invited her in and told her he would accept the fact she was leaving him. Allison had hoped they had turned a corner, but what she got was another argument—one that led him to hunt her down with a knife. And when she was lucky enough to turn the tables, she was forced to defend herself. And yes, it cost Carter Cameron his life. But it was necessary to save Allison. We will show you evidence of the mental and physical abuse Allison was subjected to, and you will see that anyone would have done what she did that day in order to save their lives in that moment. She knew what he was capable of. And she knew she wanted to live. She didn’t have a choice.”
Flo makes a moaning sound through the clicks and pops of her bubblegum.
“The guy made her do it, Lot. I say this girl walks.”
I nod her way. Now that we’ve heard what Fiona has to say, it’s clear this is open and shut. She said they’ve got proof. The poor girl was probably scared out of her mind when she saw what she had done. Not that I would move a body after the fact.
Waffles at the Wake Page 10