Trouble

If I’m lucky. She has no idea.

I’m about to make a comment when my phone buzzes in my pocket. She texted me last night, but she didn’t want an answer.

Now when I see her words, my shoulders tighten. “Sorry, Heather. I’ve got to go.”

Sliding the ring into my pocket, I make a quick call to the airport and arrange the private jet. The rest I’ll handle on the flight home.

Chapter 29

Joselyn

“He asked if I would meet him for coffee.” Courtney’s voice is so small in this enormous conference room.

She sits across a wooden table from a team of lawyers led by an older woman in a St. John suit.

The day after the incident, we took Ollie to stay with my mom in Fireside. Tom suggested it to get him away from the news and the reporters. Then Courtney and I moved to a penthouse suite in a downtown Westin, supposedly in case there was a backlash. Courtney and I were both confused, since as far as she knows, Ozzy has no family in the States.

She was taken before a judge for arraignment, and now we’re meeting with Spencer’s team of lawyers in preparation for her preliminary hearing.

All these things are happening at his direction, but I haven’t seen or heard from him.

I’ve become an expert at pretending I don’t care.

The female lawyer glances at a yellow legal pad. “You agreed to meet your ex-husband for coffee knowing he had a history of violence?”

“It was in a coffee shop. Tom was always with me. I didn’t think—”

“Exactly, Mrs. Clayton. You didn’t think, which is precisely why you won’t speak in your defense. They’ll rip you to shreds.”

Courtney’s chin drops, and I want to scoot forward in my chair and hold her hand, give her my reassurance. It’s just the two of us here at this meeting.

“He said he wanted to talk about Oliver.” Her voice is a bit louder, a touch angrier, and I’m surprised by her sudden show of strength. “I thought I could get him to leave us alone.”

“And how did that go?” The woman’s eyes never leave her notebook. She’s impatient, and I want to throw something at her.

My friend’s shoulders droop, and she exhales. “He told me I was moving home with him. He said I couldn’t hide forever.”

One of the younger male lawyers sits forward. “Tell me, Mrs. Clayton—”

“If you don’t mind,” Courtney interrupts him, “I don’t go by that name anymore. I use my maiden name now. It’s Shaw. You can call me Miss Shaw.”

“Sorry.” The guy makes a note. “Miss Shaw, can you tell me how the gun was introduced into the situation?”

“I didn’t mean to take it out. I was leaving, going to my car, and he followed me.” Courtney talks fast, like she’s embarrassed. “He grabbed my arm, and my bag fell. It hit the ground and he saw it. That’s when he lunged for it, but I beat him to it.”

“So he saw the gun in your bag and tried to take it from you?” The guy repeats.

“Yes. I didn’t want him to get it because it’s registered to me. I didn’t trust him.”

“So you never at any time intended to kill your ex-husband?” The older woman is back in the lead.

Courtney’s eyes go to her lap again, and she doesn’t answer right away. I want to jump in at this point and show them the pictures I took of her neck. I want to show them the pictures she took of my eye after Ozzy chased me into the women’s restroom, but they have all the evidence.

“We’re your lawyers, Miss Shaw. Whatever you tell us is protected by attorney-client privilege.”

She still hesitates, and this time I do scoot forward to hold her hand. She glances at me, giving me a weak smile.

“The last time Ozzy came to my apartment and threatened to kill me, I bought the gun. So I guess you could say I bought it specifically for him. I just never knew when I’d use it.”