Molly glanced at Sophie and Brooke. But those books offered sensible, if not sometimes unattainable, solutions. In fact, those books had failed to offer an actual stain-removal suggestion that worked.
Sophie shrugged. “It’s true.”
“Besides.” Brooke walked over to Molly and linked arms, then turned her to face Hazel’s makeshift nursery. “You don’t need books now. You have us.”
“Just look at the baby nook we created tonight.” Nichole turned on the moon-and-star light they’d set on a small table out of reach of the playpen. The old dresser from Brooke’s attic they’d turned into a usable changing table. And the thick yellow plush throw rug Sophie had borrowed from Ella added a much-needed pop of color and a burst of sunshine in the windowless space.
“Cozy and comfortable,” Sophie offered.
“I like it,” Brooke said. “A lot. I want to stay here and absorb all the happy.”
“It’s really perfect for her first nursery.” Molly hugged the blanket against her chest. “Thank you.”
“No thanks are necessary.” Brooke squeezed Molly’s arm. “It’s what friends do.”
Friends. Molly soaked in that one word. Marveled at the instant welcome she’d received. How they’d readily given support. And immediate acceptance.
“Friends also finish wine together.” Nichole picked up the bottle and refilled their glasses. “The school dance ends soon.”
“And that means our girl time is almost up.” Sophie snuggled Hazel into her side and then set her other hand on her stomach. “And I really need to discuss this whole giving-birth-to-two-little-people-at-the-same-time thing. My body isn’t ever going to be the same, is it?”
The women laughed, gathered around Sophie and offered their encouragement. For the first time that Molly could remember, she readily joined in.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SHOWERED AND BACK in clean clothes after his basketball game, Drew walked from the Sawyers’ house to Molly’s apartment. The cold night chilled his still-damp hair. He balanced several packages on top of a large box and knocked on, then opened Molly’s apartment door. “I have deliveries for you. They were left on the front porch.”
“Perfect. I ordered more baby supplies.” Molly grabbed the two soft-sided packages and dropped them on the kitchen counter. She touched the large box Drew held. “This is a new walker for Hazel now that she has more space than a hotel room.”
“Want me to put it together now?” Drew set the box in the family room.
“It can wait until tomorrow.” Molly pointed to his file boxes. “I’d like to start going through your files tonight.”
“Do you really think there’s some kind of smoking gun in there?” Drew eyed the office boxes that held more than office supplies and books.
Inside, too many memories lingered. His handwritten notes from every case. His law books highlighted and bookmarked for every one of those cases. Those boxes were a timeline from his first case to his last at the district attorney’s office. A road map of his victories and losses. And Molly wanted to search through them. But they brought his past into sharp focus. And made him question himself. If he’d erred on the Van Solis trial, had he made a misstep on other cases too?
“I think this is all part of my job.” Molly lifted the first box onto the square kitchen table. “We have to be thorough.”
“I’ll let you get started.” He never imagined one allegation, even a false one, would have the power to shake the foundation of his core beliefs. “I’m going to check on Hazel.”
“She’s asleep.” Molly watched him.
“What if she woke up?” And was scared. No one so little and so very innocent should be afraid. Not even for a minute. If he could protect Hazel, he wanted to.
“I’d have heard her.” Molly released the tape and removed the cover from the first box. “She likes to announce herself when she wakes up.”
“Still, she could be lying there awake with nothing to do.” He knew that feeling all too well. He walked toward Hazel’s alcove. His voice deepened into a whisper. “It’s only her third night here.”
Charges had been levied against him more than a week ago and he still hadn’t found his balance. Except with Molly.
Drew peered at Hazel. She’d turned over onto her stomach, pressed her left cheek into the mattress and tucked her knees underneath her. The little girl had turned her pseudo-yoga pose into the most comfortable-looking sleeping position ever. Drew pressed his fingers against her neck, checking to make sure she wasn’t too cold or too hot. Molly and Ella had already lectured him about the no blankets in the crib rule. Hazel looked small, fragile and entirely peaceful in the otherwise empty crib.
He watched the lamp swirl soft glowing stars across the ceiling. Shooting stars in a slow-motion arc down the wall. The background faded from pale pink to pale blue to pale lavender. Every color change quieted Drew, evening out his own pulse. Calm. Hazel and her tiny nook gave him that. He wanted to linger.
But the rustling in the kitchen could not be ignored.
Somewhere between the kitchen and Hazel’s nook, the tiniest hint of hope looped around him. Hope that Molly might uncover something. Yet he was afraid to grab on to that thread, only to have it unravel in his hand.
Back in the kitchen, the open box on the floor revealed the titles of various law books, from a law dictionary to a thick volume on courtroom etiquette. Molly sorted through the files. Restless, Drew walked into the kitchen and started to load the plates and wine glasses from earlier into the dishwasher.
“I knew it.” Accusation dusted the amusement in Molly’s voice.
Uncertain, Drew practically croaked, his voice was hoarse and dry, “What?”
“That you would have candy.” Molly held up the apothecary-style candy jar. Empty candy wrappers filled the glass container. “You always liked those butterscotch candies.”
“Still do.” Drew dried his hands and reached for the candy jar, lifted off the top and sorted through the empty wrappers. He’d always had two things in his office: a full candy jar and a robust supply of pencils. “I always work more efficiently with butterscotch.”
“Duly noted.” Molly laughed. She peeled the tape off another item, unrolled the wrapping and revealed an oversized coffee mug.
“Best Uncle in the Universe,” Drew read the inscription and grinned. Ella hadn’t wanted to wait for Christmas morning to give Drew his present. He’d been the only one in the family allowed to open his gift two days early. “Christmas present from Ella. She made me promise to use it.”
“So, you brought it to work.” Molly tipped the mug toward him. “Have you started drinking coffee then?”
He shook his head, wanting to shake away his satisfaction that she remembered something inconsequential about him. He remembered so much about her. Too much. “I set my coffee mug on a bookshelf in my office to keep it safe. Ella also gave me skeleton-shaped flash drives that year.”
“Skeleton,” Molly repeated.
“Ella picked them out.” Drew smiled and shrugged one shoulder. The skeletons were squat and comical. Whenever he had used one, clients and coworkers had laughed, and then he’d been given an opening to talk about his favorite niece. Bringing Ella into his workday always relieved the tension.
Much like Hazel had been doing for him recently. He backed away from that thought. Hazel wasn’t his family. Or his kid. She belonged to Molly, his attorney. And he wasn’t about to get attached to either one. He hadn’t been cleared and there was still a substantial risk for Molly and Hazel.
Besides, once he got his life back, his career would come first. It always had. “Thanks to Ella, I always know which flash drives are mine. It was sort of genius on her part.”
“I’m going to ask her for a flash drive recommendation for myself. I like the way she thinks.” Molly walked into the family room and placed th
e candy jar and mug on the coffee table. “I’ll put these back in the box after I finish sorting through your files and paperwork.”
Drew fiddled with the child lock on the cabinet door. Finally he succeeded, opened the cabinet and found the dishwasher pods.
“Before you start the dishwasher, add these please.” Molly picked up one of the soft-sided packages. “I ordered more baby spoons and forks in fun colors. They can go on the top rack.”
She opened the soft-sided envelope and frowned. One shake and a red-and-black flash drive dropped onto the counter. Drew closed the cabinet door and stepped closer to Molly. “What is that?”
“I have no idea.” Molly reached inside the envelope, pulled out a folded piece of paper and read out loud. “I kept this for insurance to protect my daughter. Drew needs it more. Please don’t contact me again.”
Drew reached for the paper. That hint of hope spread through him, but he cautioned himself. Hope could prove to be disappointing. “Gina?”
“No return address. And she didn’t sign the note.” Molly checked the envelope, then picked up the flash drive. “But it’s from Gina.”
Molly went into her bedroom and returned with her laptop. She sat on the couch and opened her laptop on the coffee table.
He sat beside her, close enough that his thigh connected with hers as if Molly were that thread of hope he needed.
She logged in and inserted the flash drive into her computer. Glancing at Drew, she said, “Ready to find out exactly what Gina sent us.”
Drew leaned forward, propped his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers under his chin. Anticipation roared through him, but he forced himself to breath normally. “Please let it be more than vacation photographs.”
Molly double-clicked on the drive and file folders populated the screen. Her finger tracked down the screen and stopped. “Van Solis.” One double click to open the folder and she read out loud, “Witness statement.”
Drew leaned in and studied the screen. The disappointment felt overwhelming. His hope crushed. “These are just files from the trial.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe there were files you weren’t given access to.” Molly opened the witness statement folder and once again used her finger to track the list of document titles.
Drew touched his stomach and convinced himself a late-night snack would relieve his sudden indigestion. What if seeing Gina Hahn yesterday had somehow put her in jeopardy too?
Molly rose, walked over to the dry-erase board, then examined something on her legal pad. She returned to the laptop, cross-checked something on the screen to the legal pad. Triumph widened her gaze. “Look at the date of the witness statement file at the bottom of the list.”
Drew read the date twice, then rubbed his hand over his jaw. His pulse picked back up. A new kind of energy—the kind that claimed him when he knew he’d persuaded a jury to the side of justice—recharged him. “That’s not the date of the witness interview I have on my calendar. That’s ten days earlier.”
“Exactly.” Molly sat on the couch and clicked the relevant file open.
Her movie player window launched, and the video filled her computer screen. An older gentleman, his head covered by a Bay Area Angel’s baseball cap and a matching windbreaker bunched around his lean frame, gripped a soda can in one hand. He ran his other fingers over the conference table as if tracing a scratch. Reuben Cote—the only eyewitness for the Van Solis murder trial.
Drew had spent hours with Reuben during discovery, preparing him for the witness stand. Reuben had always requested orange soda and only ever drank two sodas no matter how long their pretrial sessions had lasted. Reuben had been instantly likeable, humble and believable. His dry wit and down-to-earth manner had endeared him to everyone on the case from the paralegals to the court reporters to the entire jury.
Reuben Cote had recently recanted his testimony from the Van Solis case, so Van had hired one of the top appeals attorneys to get his verdict quashed. Reuben’s claim, that he didn’t see Van, was responsible for the witness-tampering charges that Drew now faced. Drew tucked away his emotions and focused on the computer screen.
Another man sat across from Reuben, but only his left arm was visible in the video frame. He gripped a pen that he pressed into a legal pad, but said nothing. Reuben went on to describe exactly what he saw on the night of March 17, detailing the crime scene and the victim’s body. Yet he never provided a description or any specific information about the shooter. He offered nothing that matched the description of Van Solis. He offered no real proof that Van had shot and killed a local store owner in an apparent robbery gone wrong.
Thirty minutes into Reuben’s account, Molly pressed pause on the video. She waited another beat, then spoke softly into the silence. “I very much want to assume that’s not the same testimony the witness gave on the stand, under oath, during the trial.”
“Not even close.” Drew’s own voice was hazy, as if he spoke through the smoke of that smoking gun. “Nor was it the statement Reuben gave to me.”
“Your witness falsified his testimony.” Molly closed the video. “You know what this means?”
Drew’s head fell forward. A numbness overtook him. “I knew I was innocent.”
“We have exactly what we need to win your hearing.” Molly clicked open another folder on the screen. Her disbelief and curiosity framed her next words. “Look at this. There’s information about other prior cases in here as well, Drew.”
Drew set his hand over hers and stopped her from scrolling through the other folders. “First, let’s concentrate on Van. Once the DA is exposed, then we’ll determine if there were other wrongful convictions.”
“We need the last known address of your witness.” Molly grabbed her legal pad. “We need Reuben Cote to testify at your hearing. We need his verification that the other man in the video is Cory Vinson. As it stands, the other man could be anyone. His voice is too quiet to hear on the recording and he never reveals more than his arm.”
Drew and Molly remained on the couch, hip to hip, for another two hours. They checked Reuben’s statement changing his original testimony to the statement supplied by the appeals attorney who was now leading Van’s attempt to overturn his conviction. Without success, they dug into Reuben’s past, trying to find possible reasons for his lying under oath. Then finally they opened another bottle of wine and the container with the last of the brownies.
Molly finished her brownie, brushed her hands together and reached for Drew’s Best Uncle mug that she’d set on the coffee table earlier. “There’s something inside here.”
“More candy wrappers most likely.” Drew stuffed the last bite of his brownie into his mouth, savored the chocolate and the welcome release of so much stress from his shoulders. It felt like the weight had been lifted.
“A picture.” Molly unrolled the photo and pressed a hand over her mouth. Her smile reached her eyes. “I cannot believe you kept this after all these years.”
Drew snatched the photograph from Molly and shook his head. Two college kids, each perched on one of Santa’s knees, laughed into the camera. Actually, the photographer had instructed them to shout, Candy canes rock. They’d been young, full of dreams, wishes and absolute certainties about their futures. Two friends who’d discovered a connection and shared a moment. He’d been grateful to spend that Thanksgiving week with Molly all those years ago. He was more than grateful now to have her on his side, fighting for his innocence. Without Molly, it was unlikely he would’ve discovered the evidence they’d found. He owed her.
Drew leaned back against the couch and stared at their Santa photo. “This is still one of my favorite Thanksgivings ever.”
“Seriously?” Molly sipped her wine.
“It’s one of the few I didn’t spend with my nose in a law book the entire time,” Drew admitted.
Molly swirled her wine in her glas
s. “We were good that way, weren’t we?”
“What way?”
“We balanced the school and work with the fun,” she said. “Remember flag football.”
“And trivia nights.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “You always hated when you lost.”
“I still hate to lose.” She laughed and finished her wine. “I don’t miss those late-night burrito runs when we left the library after a study session.”
“Best burritos in town.” Drew touched his stomach. “You always ate half of mine even after you complained you weren’t hungry and didn’t even want a burrito.”
“It always looked better when you were eating it. I don’t know why.”
“Everything is better together.” Drew wanted to swallow those words but it was too late. They were already out. In the sudden quiet, he realized a truth. Things had been better with Molly in his life. What happened to us?
Drew cleared his throat. They’d been friends and grown apart. He wouldn’t mistake the gratitude and respect he felt for Molly now to be anything more than that. But his gaze returned to the picture and thoughts of Molly as something more rumbled inside his chest.
“I bet you never knew you were my only real friend.” Molly scooted into Drew’s side, set her head on his shoulder and traced her finger over the picture. “I’ve really missed you.”
He had to admit it. “I’ve missed you too.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MOLLY ANSWERED HER PHONE, greeted the caller and pulled her gaze away from Drew. He stood on the other side of Hazel’s stroller, leaning casually against the elevator wall. The elevator that was taking them to the twenty-fourth floor of a high-rise in the financial district and the location of Brad Harrington’s offices. Drew had texted his brother last night, letting him know they’d be coming by in the morning.
Hazel had been Molly’s sunrise wake-up call. She’d prepared for work between diaper changes, the introduction of a new food texture in the form of oatmeal and an unscheduled bath.
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